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, ^{l note}if he be challeng'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.

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; 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 antick lisping affected phantasies, these new ^{m note}tuners of accents:—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.

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 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 stop.* ^note

Rom.

Good-morrow to you both.

Enter Nurse and her man.

Rom.

Here's goodly gear: a sayle! a sayle.

Mer.

Two, two, a shirt and a smock.

Nurse.

Peter.

Pet.

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 dyal 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 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.

Nurse.

You say well.

Mer.
Yea, is the worst well?
Yery well took, i'faith, wisely, wisely.

Nurse.
If you be he, Sir,
I desire some confidence with you.

Ben.
She will invite him to some supper.

Mer.
A bawd, a bawd, a bawd. So ho.* ^note

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 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.

Nurse.

An a speak any thing against me, I'll take him down an 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 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 my self: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into 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 Lawrence' cell
Be shriv'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 abbey-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 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 versal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?

Rom.

Ay nurse, what of that? both with an R.

Nurse.

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.

Romeo.

Commend me to thy lady—

Nurse.

A thousand times. Peter?

Pet.

Anon.

Nurse.

^{n note}Take my fan, and go before.

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