Mercutio.
Pray, mark him Ben, behold this mournful Cupid;

Benvolio.
How wild the fellow looks!

Mercutio.
Quite wild and stupid;
Didn't I tell you that we here should find him.
He seems in churlish mood, but never mind him. Enter Romeo.

Benvolio.
Good day, my lad.

Romeo.
Ah! Cousin Ben, good-morrow.

Mercutio.
My friend, what fills thy youthful phiz with sorrow?

Romeo.
A certain inward pain, past all belief.

Benvolio.
'Tis love, perhaps; would I could give relief!
Alas! that love which always ought to please us,
Instead of this, so oft should vex and teaze us!

Romeo.
Where shall we take our chop to-day?—but coz,
What caused this morning such a mighty buz?
Yet I'm a fool to ask, for I've been told;
Though hate seems hot as pepper, love's not cold;
And love compels me a long phiz to put on,
For one for whom I should not care a button.

Mercutio.
Who is she?

Romeo.
Who? a woman.

Mercutio.
Come no joking:
I never knew a fellow so provoking.
A woman! that's a thing of course you churl.

Benvolio.
That I deny; she might have been a girl.

Romeo.
She's both, for though but seventeen last grass,
You never yet saw a more strapping lass;

The best wove paper in the town can't vie
With her complexion, Ben—and then her eye!—
It set me in a blaze before she wink'd:
But ah! she knows not love my soul has pink'd;
And if she knew't, the cruel maid, mayhap,
Would ridicule me for an idle chap:
Chance gave the wound, and time will heal it never;
Alas! Mercutio; I am dished for ever:
To each sad night a dismal morning follows,
And still 'tis holloing groans and groaning hollos.

Mercutio.
Nonsense! for shame man, don't on her be thinking.

Romeo.
I must and shall, unless I take to drinking.

Mercutio.
Then drink, my jolly boy! 'till all looks blue,
And change thy present love for one that's new;
If thou wilt blow thy jacket out to-night
At Capulet's, she'll be forgotten quite:
So come with me.

Romeo.
What, sup with Capulet?

Mercutio.
Aye with old Cap.—why seem you in a sweat?
Go there and see the pretty little lasses;
There's many a she, who your she far surpasses:
I'll give you leave to load me with abuse,
If I don't make you think your swan a goose.

Romeo.
Well, well, I'll go.

Benvolio.
That's right; may pleasure haunt you!

Romeo.
I've changed my mind, and will not go.—

Mercutio.
Why won't you?

Romeo.
I dreamed last night that—

Mercutio.
Nonsense! hold your gab!
Dreams are mere humbugs of the old Queen Mab,
The fairy witch; but don't mind her a fig;
So come with me, and let us dance a jig. (Dances about.)

Romeo.
Lead on then, friends; if you will make me trot
To Capulet's, whether I will or not. [Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio.
Whatever hence betides me, I'll be bolder,
And if I see my sweetheart fast I'll hold her;
Nor will I let her go, 'till I declare
How much I doat on one so fat and fair:
For I'll no longer bear this amorous flutter
Without once daring my fierce love to utter.
What if she cry and run to tell her mother;
'Twere best to know my doom one way or t'other. [Exit.

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