Jul. T

SCENE V.

Capulet's House.

Enter Juliet.

HE clock ftruck nine, when I did fend the nurle.

In half an hour fhe promis'd to return.

Perchance the cannot meet him-That's not fo-
Oh,, fhe is lame; love's heralds fhould be thoughts,
Which ten times fafter glide than the fun-beams,
Driving back fhadows over lowring hills.
Therefore do nimble pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore had the wind-fwift Cupid wings.
Now is the fun upon the highmoft hiil

Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve-
Is three long hours and yet fhe is not come ;
Had the affections and warm youthful blood,
She'd be as fwift in motion as a ball,

My words would bandy her to my fweet love,
And his to me.

Enter Nurfe.

O Heav'n fhe comes. O honey nurse, what news? Haft thou met with him? fend thy man away.

Nufe. Peter, ftay at the gate.

Jul Now, good fweet nurfe

Oh Lord, why look'st thou so sad?

[Exit Peter.

Nurfe. I am a weary, let me reft a while :

Fy, how my bones ake, what a jaunt have I had?
Jul. Nay, come, I pray thee fpeak--Good, good
nurfe, fpeak.

Is thy news good or bad? anfwer to that,
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
Let me be fatisfied, is't good or bad?

Nurfe. Well, you have made a fimple choice: you know not how to choofe a man: Go thy ways, wench, ferye God-What, haye you dined at home?

Jul

Jul. No, no,--but all this did I know before: What fays he of our marriage? what of that?

Nurfe Lord, how my head akes? what a head have I? It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces; My back o'th'other fide-O my back, my back: Befhrew your heart, for fending me about, To catch my death with jaunting up and down. Jul. I'faith, I'm forry that thou art fo ill; Sweet, fweet, fweet nurfe tell me what fays my love. Nufe. Your love fays like an honeft gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handfome, And 1 warrant a virtuous-where is your mother? Jul. Where is my mother? why, fhe is within Where should she be? how odly thou reply'ft? Your love fays like an honeft gentleman: Where is your mother?

Nurfe. Oh, our lady dear,

Ale you fo hot? marry, come up! I trow.
Is this the poultice for my aking bones?
Hence-forward do your meffages yourself.

Jul. Here's fuch a coil; come, what fays Romeo?
Nurfe. Have you got leave to go to fhrift to-day?
Jul. I have.

cheeks

Nurfe. Then hie you hence to friar Lawrence' cell,
There ftays a husband to make you a wife.
Now comes the wanton blood up in your
Hie you to church, I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Muft climb a bird's neft foon, when it is dark.
I am the drudge and toil of your delight,
But you shall bear the burden foon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner, hie you to the cell.

Jul. Hie to high fortune: Honeft nurse, farewel.

[Exeunt

SCENE

Fri. So

SCENE VI.

The MONASTERY.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.

O fmile the heav'ns upon this holy act,
That after hours of forrow chide us not!
Rom. Amen, amen, but come what forrow can,
It countervail th' exchange of joy,

That one short ininute gives me in her fight.
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then love devouring death do what he dare,
It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. Thefe violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder;
Which as they meet, confume. The fweeteft honey
Is loathfome in its own deliciousness,

And in the tafte confounds the appetite :
Therefore love mod'rately.

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady. Oh fo light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint;
A lover may bestride the gossamour,
'That idles in the wanton fummer air,
And yet not fall, fo light is vanity.

Jul. Good-even to my ghoftly confeffor.

Fri. Romeo fhall thank thee, daughter, for us both-
Rom. Ah Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it; then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich mufic's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd happiness, that both
Receive in either, by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his fubftance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth:

But

But my true love is grown to fuch excess,
I cannot fum up one half of my wealth.
Fri. Come, come with me;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
Till holy church incorp'rate two in one.

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

The STREET.

Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Servants.

BENVOLIO.

I Pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire;

The day is hot, the Capulets abroad;

And, if we meet, we fhall not 'icape a brawl.

Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his fword upon the table, and fays, God fend me no need of thee; and by the operation of a fecond cup, draws it on the drawer, when indeed, there is no need,

Ben. Am I like fuch a fellow ?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; an' there were two fuch, we fhould have none fhortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair lefs in his head than thou haft: thou wilt quarrel with a man' for cracking nuts, having no other reason, but because thou haft hazel eyes; thou haft quarrell'd with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath waken'd thy dog that hath lain afleep in the fun. Didft thou not fall out with thy taylor for wearing his new doublet before Eafter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling!

Ben

Ben. If I were as apt to quarrel as thou art, any man fhould buy the fee-fimple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

Enter Tibalt, Petruchio, and others.

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tib. Be near at hand, for I will fpeak to them;
Gentlemen, good den, a word with one of you.

Mer. And but one word with one of us? couple it with fomething, make it a word and a blow.

Tib. You fhould find me apt enough to that, Sir, if you will give me occafion.

Mer. Could you not take fome occafion without giving? Tib. Mercutio, thou confort'ft with Romeo.

Mer. Confort? what doft thou make us minstrels ! if thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but difcords: here's my fiddle stick, here's that fhall make you dance, zounds! confort? [Laying his hand on bis ford. Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men; Either withdraw into fome private place,

Or reafon coolly of your grievances,

Or elfe depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

Mer. Mens eyes were made to lock, and let them gaze, I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Enter Romeo.

Tib. Well, peace be with you, Sir, here comes my man
Mer. But I'll be hang'd, Sir, if he wear thy livery.
Tib. Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford

No better term than this; thou art a villain.
Rom. Tibalt, the reason that I have to love thee,
Doth much excufe the appertaining rage
To fuch a greeting: villain I am none,
Therefore farewel, I fee thou know'st me not.
Tib. Boy, this fhall not excufe the injuries
That thou haft done me, therefore turn and draw,
Rom. I do protest I never injur'd thee,
But love thee better than thou canst devife:
And fo, good Capulet, (whose name I tender

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