She'd be as fwift in motion as a ball, My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me. Enter Nurfe. O Heav'n! fhe comes. Oh honey Nurfe, what news? Haft thou met with him? fend thy man away. Nurfe. Peter, ftay at the gate. O Lord, why look'ft thou fad ? [Exit Peter, Nurfe. I am a weary, let me reft a while: Is thy news good or bad? anfwer to that. Nurfe. Well, you have made a fimple choice; you know not how to choose a man: Go thy ways, wench, ferve God- -What, have you dined at home? 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 haye I? It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces, back: My back o'th' other fide- O my back, my Where is your mother Nurfe. O our lady dear, Are you fo hot? marry come up! I trow. Is this the pultice for my aking bones? Hence-forward do your meffages yourself. Jul. Here's fuch a coil; come, what fays Romeo? B 4 Nurfe. cheeks Nurfe. Then hie you hence to friar Lawrence' cell, [Exeunt SCE NE VI. Fri. S9 The Monaftery. Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo. O fmile the heav'ns upon this holy act, Fri. Thefe violent delights have violent ends, And in the taste confounds the appetite : Enter Juliet. Here comes the lady. O fo light a foot ful. 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 Te To blazon it; then fweeten with thy breath: Jul. Conceit more rich in matter than in words, I cannot fum up one half of my wealth. Fri. Come, come with me; For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, [Exeunt. ACT III, SCENE I. I The STRE E T. Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and fervants. BENVOLI O. Pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire; The day is hot, the Capulets abroad; And, if we meet we fhall not 'fcape 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 should 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 quarrel'd with a man for coughing in the ftreet, becaufe he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain afleep in B 5 the the fun. Didft thou not fall out with a Tailor 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. If I were fo 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. Tib. Be near at hand, for I will speak to them: Mer. And but one word with one of us? couple it with fomething, make it a word and a blow. Tib. You fhall 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 fiddleftick, here's that fhall make you dance, zounds! confort! [Laying his hand on his Sword. Ben. We talk here in the publick haunt of men: Either withdraw into fome private place, Or reafon coldly of your grievances, Or elfe depart; here all eyes gaze on us. Mer. Mens eyes were made to look, 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 your livery. No better term than this; thou art a villain. Tib. Tib. Boy, this fhall not excufe the injuries Mer. O calm, difhonourable vile fubmiffion! catcher. Tib. What would't thou have with me? -you rat Mer. Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal; Will you pluck your fword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make hafte, left mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tib. I am for you, Sir. Rom. Draw, Benvolio Gentlemen [Drawing. [Mercutio and Tibalt fight. beat down their weapons -for fhame forbear this outrage Hold Tibalt, good Mercutio Mer. I am hurt A plague of both your houses! I am sped: Is he gone, and hath nothing? Ben. What, art thou hurt? [Exit Tibalt. Mer. Ay, ay, a fcratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough. Go, fetch a furgeon. Rom. Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not fo deep as a well, nor fo wide as a church-door, but 'tis enough, 'twill ferve: I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world- a plague of both your houses!-What?---a dog, a rat, a moufe, a cat, to fcratch a man to death a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetick? why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. Rom. I thought all for the best. Mer. Help me into fome house, Benvolio, Or I fhall faint; a plague o' both your houfes! I have it, and foundly too; plague o' both your houses! [Exeunt Mer. and Ben. CENE |