For this alliance may so happy prove,

To turn your household rancor to pure love. Rom. (Hastily.) O let us hence, love stands on sudden haste.

Lau. (Stopping him.) Wisely and slow: they

stumble that run fast.

SCENE IV.- The Street.

[Exeunt R.

Enter BENVOLIO and Mercutio R.

Mer. (c.) Where the devil should this Romeo be? came he not home to-night?

Ben. (c.) Not to his father's; I spoke with his

man.

Mer. (r,) Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Juliet, torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
Mer. A challenge, on my life.

Ben. Romeo will answer it.

Mer. (c.) Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabb'd with a white wench's black eye; run 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?

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer. (L.) 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 puncto reverso the hay!—

Ben. The what?

Butt-shaft-an arrow.

Sing prick-song-music pricked or written, in contradistinction to music sung by the ear, or from memory.

The immortal passado! the puncto reverso! the hay!-terms of a fencing school.

Mer. The plague of such antick, lisping, affected fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents!—Ma foi, a very good blade!—a very tall man! a very fine wench-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?

Ben. Here comes Romeo.

Mer. 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 gipsy; Helen and Hero, Hildings and harlots; Thisbe, a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose.

Enter Romeo L.

Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation for you.

Rom. (l.) Good morrow to you both.

Mer. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
Rom. What counterfeit did I give you?

Mer. The slip, sir, the slip ; can you not con

ceive?

Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtsey. [Crosses c.—All three go R.

Enter Nurse L.

Ben. (Looking L.) A sail, a sail !

Enter Peter L.

Mer. Two, two; a shirt, and a smock.

Nurse. Peter!

Pet. Anon?

Nurse. My fan, Peter.

Mer. (R. C.) Do, good Peter, to hide her face.

Slip-a counterfeit piece of money.

I

Nurse. 'Give ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mer. 'Give ye good den, fair gentlewoman.

Nurse. Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where may find the young Romeo?

Rom. (Meeting Nurse at c.) I am the youngest of that name, for 'fault of a worse.

Nurse. (c.) You say well. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.

[Goes up. Ben. She will indite him to supper presently. Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd!—So ho!

Rom. What hast thou found?

Mer. No hare, sir; but a bawd. (Crosses L.) Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner thither.

Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewell, ancient lady.—Peter, my fan.— Farewell, lady.

[Exeunt Mercutio, mimicking Nurse, and Benvolio L.

Nurse. I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his roguery?

Rom. A gentleman, Nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and will speak more in a minute, than he will stand to in a month.

Nurse. An 'a speak anything againt 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. Scurvey knave! I am none of his flirt-gills. (To Peter L.) And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure!

Pet. 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.

Nurse. Now, afore heaven, I am so vex'd, that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave!—'Pray you, sir, a word; (To Rom.)—And, as I told you,

Good den-good even.

Saucy merchant-a disrespectful term in contradistincti on of gentleman.

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 behavior, 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 offer'd to any gentlewoman. Rom. Commend me to thy lady and mistress. protest unto thee

I

Nurse. Good heart! and, i' faith, I will tell her as much.— Lord, Lord! She will be a joyful wo

man.

Rom. What wilt thou tell her, Nurse? Thou dost not mark me.

Nurse. I will tell her, sir-that you do protest; which, as I take it, is a very gentlemanlike offer.

Rom. Bid her devise some means to come to shrift This afternoon;

And there she shall, at Friar Laurence' cell,
Be shrived, and married.—Here is for thy pains.

[Offers her money.

Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny.

Rom. Go to; I say, you shall.

[nurse, looking a contrary way, takes the*

purse.

Nurse. This afternoon, sir? Well, she shall be

there.

Rom. And stay, good Nurse; behind the abbey

wall,

Within this hour my man shall be with thee,

And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair,
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
Must be my convoy in the secret night.

Farewell! (r.) Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains.
Commend me to thy lady.

[Exit R. Nurse. (r.) Ay—a thousand times.—Peter! Pet. (l.) Anon?

Nurse. (c.) Peter, take my fan, and go before.

[Exeunt L.

SCENE V.—Juliet's Chamber.

Juliet discovered L.— Two chairs.

Jul. (c.) The clock struck nine, when I did send the Nurse;

In half an hour she promised to return.

Perchance she cannot meet him :—that 's not so. ---
O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over low'ring hills;
Therefore do nimble-pinton'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill

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

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

O, heaven! she comes.—

Enter NURSE L.

(Runs to L.)—O, honey, Nurse, what news?

Hast thou met him?

Now, good sweet Nurse—

O Lord, why look'st thou sad?

Nurse, I am a-weary; (juliet runs for a chair.) let me rest awhile:

[nurse sits down L. C. Fie! how my bones ache ! what a jaunt have I had ! Jul. (r. of the Chair.) Nay, come, I pray thee, speak ;—good, good Nurse, speak.

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

Nurse. well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man.—

dined at home?

Jul. No, no;—but

-What, have you

What says he of our marriage? what of that?