Jul.
The clock strook nine, when I did send the nurse;
In half an hour she promis'd 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,
Driving back shadows over lowring hills:
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
Of this day's journey; and from nine 'till twelve
Is three ^note long ^note hours, yet she is not come:
Had she affections, and warm youthful blood,
She'd ^note be as swift in motion as a ball;
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me:
But old folks,14Q1401 many fain as they were dead;
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. Enter Nurse, and her Man.
O God, she comes!—O honey nurse, what news?
Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.

Nur.
Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit Man.

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

Nur.
I am aweary ^note, give me leave a while;—
Fie, how ^note my bones ake! What a jaunt ^note have I had ^note!

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

Nur.
Jesu, what haste? can you not stay a while?
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.
Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
Let me be satisfy'd; Is't good, or bad?

Nur.
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 man's, yet his leg ^note
Excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot,
And a body ^note,—though they be not to be talk'd on,
Yet they are past compare:
He is not the flower of courtesy, but, I'll warrant ^note him,
As gentle as a ^note lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serve God:
What, have you din'd at home?

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

Nur.
Lord, how my head akes! what a head have I!
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back o' t' other side,—O, my ^note back, my back!—
Beshrew your heart, for sending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting ^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?

Nur.
Your love says like an honest gentleman,

And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I warrant,
A virtuous: Where's your mother?

Jul.
Where is my mother? why, she is within;
Where should she be? How oddly thou reply'st;
Your love says like an honest gentleman,—
Where is your mother ^note?

Nur.
O god's lady dear!
Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow;
Is this the poultice for my aking bones?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.

Jul.
Here's such a coil;—Come, what says Romeo?

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

Jul.
I have.

Nur.
Then hie you hence to friar Lawrence' cell,
There stays a husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in scarlet ^note straight at any news.
Hie you to church; I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb 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, farewel. [Exeunt, severally.

Previous section

Next section