John.
Hollo! my crony! lazy Lawrence, ho! Enter Friar Lawrence.

Friar.
Ha, Jack! is't you? pray what says Romeo?

John.
One of our cloth and I chancing to drink
Too much Gin Twist, were locked up in the Clink.
As through the streets we reeled, it seems, we spoke
Some amorous words, merely by way of joke,
To certain pert young Misses, as they came
From some Tea-kettle rout.—Pretending shame,—
They squalled so loudly that the watch appeared;
A constable soon grasped me by the beard,
And held me fast.—another lusty dog
Laid my friend sprawling, quickly, like a log.
To be concise,—they put us both in fetters,
Therefore I couldn't speed on with your letters.

Friar.
This sad mishap I fear will brood some ill:
But, Jack, go get a Pick-lock: run.

John.
I will. [Exit.

Friar.
Now, to the monument I'll go, and shake
With might and main, young Juliet, 'till she wake:
I doubt not she'll be happy to behold me,
Unless I stay too long,—and then she'll scold me. [Exit.

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