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Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combin'd, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage: when, and where, and how
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us to-day.
Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here!
Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? young men's love, then, lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in mine ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;
And art thou chang'd? Pronounce this sentence then,--
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.
Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
And bad'st me bury love.
Not in a grave
To lay one in, another out to have.
I pray thee chide not: she whom I love now
Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;
The other did not so.
O, she knew well
Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.
O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
Wisely, and slow; they stumble that run fast.
Scene IV. A Street.
[Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.]
Where the devil should this Romeo be?--
Came he not home to-night?
Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline,
Torments him so that he will sure run mad.
Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
A challenge, on my life.
Romeo will answer it.
Any man that can write may answer a letter.
Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he
dares, being dared.
Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white
wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love song; the
very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft:
and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?
Why, what is Tybalt?
More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he's the
courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing
prick-song--keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his
minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very
butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of
the very first house,--of the first and second cause: ah, the
immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hay.--
The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these
new tuners of accents!--'By Jesu, a very good blade!--a very tall
man!--a very good whore!'--Why, is not this a lamentable thing,
grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange
flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnez-moi's, who stand so
much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old
bench? O, their bons, their bons!
Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo!
Without his roe, like a dried herring.--O flesh, flesh, how art
thou fishified!--Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed
in: Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen wench,--marry, she had
a better love to be-rhyme her; Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gypsy;
Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbe, a gray eye or so, but not to the purpose,--
Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your
French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?
The slip, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?
Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in such a
case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a
man to bow in the hams.
Meaning, to court'sy.
Thou hast most kindly hit it.
A most courteous exposition.
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Pink for flower.
Why, then is my pump well-flowered.
Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out
thy pump;that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may
remain, after the wearing, sole singular.
O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness!
Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.
Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I'll cry a match.
Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have done; for
thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits than, I am
sure, I have in my whole five: was I with you there for the
Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not
there for the goose.
I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
Nay, good goose, bite not.
Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp
And is it not, then, well served in to a sweet goose?
O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch
narrow to an ell broad!
I stretch it out for that word broad: which added to the
goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.
Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art
thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; not art thou what thou art, by
art as well as by nature: for this drivelling love is like a
great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble
in a hole.
Stop there, stop there.
Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.
Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.
O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short: for I was
come to the whole depth of my tale; and meant indeed to occupy
the argument no longer.
Here's goodly gear!
[Enter Nurse and Peter.]
A sail, a sail, a sail!
Two, two; a shirt and a smock.
My fan, Peter.
Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face.
God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman.
Is it good-den?
'Tis no less, I tell ye; for the bawdy hand of the dial is
now upon the prick of noon.
Out upon you! what a man are you!
One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar.
By my troth, it is well said;--for himself to mar, quoth
'a?--Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young
I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older when you have
found him than he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of
that name, for fault of a worse.
You say well.
Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; wisely,
If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.
She will indite him to some supper.
A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!
What hast thou found?
No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is
something stale and hoar ere it be spent.
An old hare hoar,
And an old hare hoar,
Is very good meat in Lent;
But a hare that is hoar
Is too much for a score
When it hoars ere it be spent.
Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner thither.
I will follow you.
Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,--
[singing] lady, lady, lady.
[Exeunt Mercutio, and Benvolio.]
Marry, farewell!--I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was
this that was so full of his ropery?
A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and
will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.
An 'a speak anything against me, I'll take him down, an'a
were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot,
I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his
flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates.--And thou must stand
by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure!
Peter. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I had, my weapon
should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare draw as soon
as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law
on my side.
Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part about me
quivers. Scurvy knave!--Pray you, sir, a word: and, as I told
you, my young lady bid me enquire you out; what she bade me say I
will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead
her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross
kind of behaviour, as they say: for the gentlewoman is young;
and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were
an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak
Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto
Good heart, and i' faith I will tell her as much: Lord,
Lord, she will be a joyful woman.
What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.
I will tell her, sir,--that you do protest: which, as I
take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.
Bid her devise some means to come to shrift
And there she shall at Friar Lawrence' cell
Be shriv'd and married. Here is for thy pains.
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