Jul.
The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse;
In half an hour she promised ^note to return.
Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so.
O, she is lame! love's heralds ^note should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide ^note than the sun's beams ^note
Driving back ^note shadows over louring ^note hills:
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd ^note doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift ^note Cupid wings.
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve
Is three ^note long hours; yet ^note she is not come.
Had she affections and warm youthful blood,
She would be as ^note swift in motion as a ball;
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me: ^note
But old folks, many feign ^note as they were dead; ^note
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale ^note as lead.

Enter Nurse, with Peter. ^note
O God ^note, she comes! O honey nurse ^note, what news?
Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.

Nurse.
Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit Peter. ^note

Jul.
Now, good sweet nurse,—O Lord, why look'st ^note thou sad? ^note
Though news be ^note sad, yet tell them merrily;
If good, thou shamest ^note the music of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face. ^note

Nurse.
I am a-weary; give me leave ^note awhile.
Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunce ^note have I had ^note!

Jul.
I would thou hadst my bones and I thy news:
Nay, come, I pray thee ^note, speak; good, good ^note nurse, speak.

Nurse.
Jesu ^note, what haste? can you not stay awhile?
Do you not see that ^note I am out of breath?

Jul.
How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath
To say to me that thou art out of breath?
The excuse that thou dost make in this delay
Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. ^note
Is ^note 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: Romeo! no, not he; though his face

be better than any ^note man's, yet his leg excels ^note all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body ^note, though they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy, but, I'll ^note warrant him, as gentle as a ^note lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home? ^note

Jul.
No, no: but all this ^note did I know before.
What says he of our marriage? what of that?

Nurse.
Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back o' t' other ^note side,— ^note ah ^note, my back, my back!
Beshrew your heart for sending me about,
To catch my death with jauncing ^note up and down!

Jul.
I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well ^note.
Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?

Nurse.

Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I warrant, a virtuous,—Where is your mother? ^note

Jul.
Where is my mother! why, she is within;
Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! ^note
‘Your love says, like an honest gentleman,
Where is your mother ^note?’

Nurse.
O God's lady dear! ^note
Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow;
Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.

Jul.
Here's such a coil! come, what says Romeo?

Nurse.
Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?

Jul.
I have.

Nurse.
Then hie ^note you hence to Friar Laurence' ^note cell;
There stays a husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in scarlet straight at any ^note news.
Hie you to church; I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb ^note a bird's nest soon when it is dark:
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight;
But you shall bear the burthen soon at night.
Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.

Jul.
Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell. [Exeunt. ^note

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