Mercutio.
Mer.
Where the devil should this Romeo be?
came he not home to-night?
Ben.
Not to his father's, I spoke with his man.
Mer.
Why, that same pale, hard-hearted, wench, that Rosaline,
Torments him so, that he will, sure, run mad.
-- 49 --
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.
Any man, that can write, may answer a
letter.
Ben.
Nay, he will answer the letter's master how
he dares, being dar'd.
Mer.
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 but-shaft; and is he a man to encounter Tybalt!
Ben.
Why, what is Tybalt?
Mer.
3 noteMore than prince of cats?—Oh, he's the
4 note
courageous captain of compliments; he fights as you
sing prick'd songs, keeps time, distance, and proportion;
rests his minum, one, two, and the third in
your bosom; the very butcher of a silk button, a
duellist, a duellist; 5 notea gentleman of the very first
house, of the first and second cause; ah, the immortal
passado, the punto reverso, 6 notethe, hay!—
Ben.
The what?
-- 50 --
Mer.
The pox of such antick, lisping, affected
phantasies, these new tuners of accents:—“A very
good blade!—a very tall man!—a very good
whore!”—7 noteWhy, is not this a lamentable thing,
grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these
strange flies, these fashion-mongers, 8 notethese pardonnez-moy's,
who stand so much on the new form that they
cannot sit at ease on the old bench? 9 note
O, their bon's,
their bon's!
Enter Romeo.
Ben.
Here comes Romeo, 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 berhyme her; Dido a dowdy, Cleopatra a gipsy,
Helen and Hero hildings and harlots: Thisbé a
grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo,
bonjour; there's a French salutation to your French
Slop. You gave us the contrefait fairly last night.
Rom.
Good-morrow to you both: What counterfeit
did I give you?
Mer.
The slip, Sir, the slip: can you not conceive?
Rom.
Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was
great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain
courtesy.
-- 51 --
Mer.
That's as much as to say, such a case as yours
constrains a man to bow in the hams.
Rom.
Meaning, to curt'sy.
Mer.
Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Rom.
A most courteous exposition.
Mer.
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Rom.
Pink for flower.—
Mer.
Right.
Rom.
Why, 1 notethen is my pump well flower'd.
Mer.
Sure wit—follow me this jest, now, till thou
hast worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of
it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing,
solely singular.
Rom.
O single sol'd jest,
Solely singular, for the singleness!
Mer.
Come between us, good Benvolio, my wit faints.
Rom.
Switch and spurs,
Switch and spurs, or—I'll cry a match.
Mer.
Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I
am done: for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one
of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole
five. Was I with you there for the goose?
Rom.
Thou wast never with me for any thing, when
thou wast not there for the goose.
Mer.
I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
Rom.
Nay, good goose, bite not.
Mer.
Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting,
It is a most sharp sauce.
Rom.
And is it not well serv'd in to a sweet goose?
Mer.
O, here's 2 notea wit of cheverel, that stretches
from an inch narrow to an ell broad.
Rom.
I stretch it out for that word broad, which
added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad
goose.
-- 52 --
Mer.
Why, is not this better, than groaning for
love? Now thou art sociable; now art thou Romeo;
now art thou what thou art, by art, as well as by nature;
for this drivelling love is like a great Natural,
that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a
hole.
Ben.
Stop there, stop there.
Mer.
Thou desirest me to stop in my tale, against
the hair.
Ben.
Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.
Mer.
O, thou art deceiv'd, I would have made it
short; for I was come to the whole depth of my tale,
and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no
longer.
Enter Nurse, and Peter her Man.
Rom.
Here's goodly Geer; a Sail! a Sail!
Mer.
Two, two, a Shirt and a Smock.
Nurse.
Peter,—
Peter.
Anon?
Nurse.
My Fan, Peter.
Mer.
Do, good Peter, to hide her face: for her
fan's the fairer of the two.
Nurse.
God ye good-morrow, gentlemen.
Mer.
God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.
Nurse.
Is it good den?
Mer.
'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy hand
of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.
Nurse.
Out upon you! what a man are you?
Rom.
One, gentlewoman, that God hath made
himself to mar.
Nurse.
By my troth, it is well said. For himself
to mar, quotha? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me
where I may find the young Romeo.
Rom.
I can tell you. But young Romeo will be
older when you have found him, than he was when
-- 53 --
you sought him. I am the youngest of that name,
for fault of a worse.
Nurse.
You say well.
Mer.
Yea, is the worst well?
Very well took, i'faith, wisely, wisely.
Nurse.
If you be he, Sir,
I desire some confidence with you.
Ben.
She will indite him to some supper.
Mer.
A bawd, a bawd, a bawd. So ho!—
Rom.
What hast thou found?
Mer.
3 noteNo hare, Sir, unless a hare, Sir, in a lenten
pye, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.
An old hare hoar, and an old hare hoar, is very good meat in Lent,
But a hare, that is hoar, is too much for a score, when it hoars ere it be spent.
Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner
thither.
Rom.
I will follow you.
Mer.
Farewel, ancient lady:
Farewel, lady, lady, lady.
[Exeunt Mercutio, Benvolio.
Nurse.
I pray you, Sir, what saucy merchant was
this, that was so full of his ropery?
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 any thing against me, I'll take
him down an' he were lustier than he is, and twenty
such Jacks: and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall.
Scurvy knave, I am none of his flirt-gills; I am
-- 54 --
4 notenone of his skains mates. And thou must stand by
too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?
[To her man.
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 God, I am so vext, that every
part about me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you,
Sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bid
me enquire you out; what she bid 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 behaviour, 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 offered
to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.
Rom.
Commend me to thy lady and mistress, I protest
unto thee—
Nurse.
Good heart, and, i'faith, I will tell her as
much. Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.
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 gentleman-like offer.
Rom.
Bid her devise some means to come to shrift
this afternoon:
And there she shall at friar Laurence' Cell
Be shriev'd and married. Here is for thy pains.
Nurse.
No, truly, Sir, not a penny.
Rom.
Go to, I say, you shall.
Nurse.
This afternoon, Sir? Well, she shall be there.
Rom.
And stay, good nurse, behind the abby-wall:
Within this hour my man shall be with thee,
-- 55 --
And bring thee cords, made 5 notelike a tackled stair,
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
Must be my convoy in the secret night.
Farewel, be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains.
Nurse.
Now, God in heav'n bless thee! hark you, Sir.
Rom.
What sayest thou, my dear nurse?
Nurse.
Is your man secret? did you ne'er hear say,
Two may keep counsel, putting one away?
Rom.
I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.
Nurse.
Well, Sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady;
Lord, Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing—
O,—there is a noble man in town, one Paris, that
would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul,
had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I
anger her sometimes, and tell her, that Paris is the
properer man; but I'll warrant you, when I say so,
she looks as pale as any clout in the varsal World.
Doth not Rosemary and Romeo begin both with a
letter?
6 note
Rom.
Ay, nurse, what of that? both with an R.
Nurse.
Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R is
for thee? No; I know, it begins with another letter;
-- 56 --
and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and
rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it.
Rom.
Commend me to thy lady—
[Exit Romeo.
Nurse.
Ay, a thousand times. Peter,—
Pet.
Anon?
Nurse.
Take my fan, and go before.
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
