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.

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 dared.

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.

More than Prince of Cats. Oh he's the Couragious Captain of Compliments; he fights as you sing prick-songs, keeps time, distance, and proportion; he rests his minum, 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 Punto reverso, the Hay—

Ben.

The what?

Mer.

The Pox of such antique lisping affecting Phantasies, these new turners of Accent—Jesu, a very good blade,—

a very tall Man—a very good Whore.—Why is not this a lamentable thing, Grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange Flies, these Fashion-mongers, these pardon-me's, who stand so much on the new Form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old Bench. O their Bones, their Bones.

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 a Kitchen-wench; marry she had a better love to berime her: Dido a Dowdy, Cleopatra a Gipsie, Helen and Hero Hildings and Harlots: Thisby a gray Eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, Bonjour, there's a French Salutation to your French slop; you gave us the Counterfeit 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 Mercutio, my Business was great, and in such a Case as mine, a Man may strain Curtsie.

Mer.

That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a Man to bow in the Hams.

Rom.

Meaning to Curtsie.

Mer.

Thou hast most kindly hit it.

Rom.

A most courteous Exposition.

Mer.

Nay, I am the very Pink of Courtesie.

Rom.

Pink for Flower.

Mer.

Right.

Rom.

Why then 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, sole-singular.

Rom.
O single-sol'd Jest.
Solely singular, for the singleness.

Mer.
Come between us good Benvolio, my Wit faints.

Rom.
Swits and Spurs,
Swits 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 Sawce.

Rom.
And is it not well-serv'd in to a sweet Goose?

Mer.

O here's a 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.

Mer.

Why is not this better now, than groaning for Love? Now art thou sociable; now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by Art, as well as by Nature; for this driveling 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.

Rom.
Here's goodly gear:
A sayle, a sayle.

Mer.
Two, two, a Shirt and a Smock.

Nur.
Peter.

Pet.
Anon.

Nur.
My Fan, Peter.

Mer.
Good Peter, to hide her Face;
For her Fan's the fairer Face.

Nur.
God ye good morrow, Gentlemen.

Mer.
God ye good-den fair Gentlewoman.

Nur.
Is is good-den?

Mer.

'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy Hand of the Dyal is now upon the prick of Noon.

Nur.
Out upon you; what a Man are you?

Rom.
One, Gentlewoman,
That God hath made, himself to mar.

Nur.

By my troth it is sad: 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 you sought him: I am the youngest of that Name, for fault of a worse.

Nur.
You say well.

Mer.
Yea, is the worst well?
Very well took, I'faith, wisely, wisely.

Nur.
If you be he, Sir,
I desire some Confidence with you.

Ben.
She will invite him to some Supper.

Mer.
A Baud, a Baud, a Baud. So ho.

Rom.
What hast thou found?

Mer.

No Hare, Sir, unless a Hare Sir, in a Lenten Pye; that is something Stale and Hoar e'er 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. [Ex. Mercutio, Benvolio.

Nur.

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.

Nur.

And a speak any thing against me, I'll take him down, and a 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-gils; I am none of his Skains-mates. 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 warant you. I dare draw as soon as another Man, if I see occasion in a good Quarrel, and the Law on my side.

Nur.

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 my self: But first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her in 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—

Nur.
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?

Nur.

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 Lawrence's Cell,
Be shriv'd and married: Here is for thy pains.

Nur.
No, truly Sir, not a Penny.

Rom.
Go to, I say you shall.

Nur.
This Afternoon, Sir? Well, she shall be there.

Rom.
And stay thou, good Nurse, behind the Abby-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.
Farewel, be trusty, and I'll quite thy Pains:
Farewel, commend me to thy Mistress.

Nur.
Now God in Heaven bless thee: Hark you, Sir.

Rom.
What say'st thou, my dear Nurse?

Nur.
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.

Nur.

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 live 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 versal World. Doth not Rosemary and Romeo begin both with a Letter?

Rom.

Ay Nurse, what of that? Both with an R.

Nur.

Ah mocker! that's the Dog's name. R. is for the no, I know it begins with no other Letter, 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.

Nur.
A thousand times. Peter?

Pet.
Anon.

Nur.
Before, and apace. [Exeunt.

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