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Nur. I am a weary, give me leave a while;
Ful. I would thou hadît my Bones, and I thy News: Nay come, I pray thee speak Good Nurse speak.
Nur. Jeful what haste? can you not stay a while & Do you not see how 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 Éxcuse that thou doft 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 satisfied, is't good or bad?
Nur. Well, you have made a simple Choice; you know not how to chule a Man: Romeo? no not he, though his Face be better than any Man's, yet his Legs excell all Mens, and for a Hand and a Foot, and a Baw-dy, tho' they be not to be talk'd on, yet they are past compare. He is not the Flow• er of Courtesie, but I warrant him as gentle a Lamb-.--Go thy ways Wench, serve God : What, have you dined at home?
Jul. No, no But all this did I know before:
Nur. Lord how my Head akes ! whata Head have I?
Jul. Where is my Mother? Why she is within,
Nur. O God's Lady dear,
you a Wife.
Hence-forward, do your Messages your self.
Jul. Here's such a coil; come, what says Romeo?
Nur. Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence's Cell,
Jul. Hie to high Fortune; honest Nurse farewel. [Exeunt.
Fri. So smile the Heavens upon this holy AG,
Rom. Amen, Amen; but come what Sorow can,
Fri. These violent Delights have violent Ends,
Jul. Good-even to my ghostly. Confessor.
Rom. Ah Juliet, if the measure of thy Joy
Jul. Conceit more rich in Matter than in Words,
. Fri, Come, come with me, and we will make short Work, For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, 'Till holy Church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt.
A C T III.
SC EN E I.
SCENE The Street.
Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Servants.
The Day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
Mer. Thou art like one of those Fellows, that when he enters the confines of a Tavern, claps me his Sword upon the Table, and says, God send me no need of thee: And by the Operation of a second Cup, draws him on the Drawer, when indeed there is no need.
Ben. Am I like such a Fellow?
Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be mov'd.
Ben. And what too?
Mer. Nay, and there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why thou
wilt quarrel with a Man that hath a Hair more, or a Hair less in his Beard than thou hast: Thou wilt quarrel with Man for cracking Nuts, having no other reason, but because thou hast hafel Eyes; what Eye, but such an Eye, would spy out such a quarrel? Thy Head is as full of quarrels, as an Egg is full of Meat, and yet thy Head hath been beaten as addle as an Egg for quarrelling: Thou hast quarrelld with a Man for Coughing in the Street, because he hath wakened thy Dog that hath lain asleep in the Sun. Didst thou not fall out with a Tailor for wearing his new Doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new. Shooes with old Ribband? And yet thou wilč Tutor me from quarrelling! Ben. And I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any Man
fo should buy the Fee-simple of my Life for an hour and a quarter. Mer. The Fee-simple? O simple !
Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others. Ben. By my Head here come the Capulets. Mer. By my Heel I care not.
Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them. Gentlemen, Good-den, a Word with one of you.
Mer. And but one Word with one of us? couple it with something, make it a Word and a Blow.
Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, Sir, and you Will give me occasion.
Mer. Could you not take some Occasion without giving?
Tyb. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo
Mer. Confort! What, dost thou make us Minstrels? And thou make Minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but Difcords: Here's my Fiddlestick; here's thar fhall make you dance. Come, Confort. [Laying his Hind on his sword.
Ben. We talk here in the publick naunt of Men:
Mer. Mens Eyes were made to look, and let them gaze, I will not budge for no Man's pleasure I.
Enter Romeo. Tyb. Well, peace be with you, Sir, here comes my Man.
Mer. But I'll be hang 'd, Sir, it he wear your Livery: Marry go before to Field, he'll be your Follower, Your Worship in that sense may call him Man.
Tyb. Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford
Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee,
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the Injuries
Rom. I do protest I never injur'd thee,
Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile Submission !
Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me?
mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine Lives, that I mean to make bold withal; and as you shall use me, hereafter dry beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your Sword out of his Pilcher by the Ears? Make haste, left mine be about your Ears e'er it be out. Tyb. I am for you.
[Drawing. Rom. Gentle Mercurio, put thy Rapier up. Mer. Come, Sir, your Passado. [Mer. and Tyb. fight,
Rom. Draw, Benvolio-----beat down their Weapons-
Ben. What, art thou hurt? Mer. Ay, ay, a Scratch, a Scratch; marry 'tis enough. Where is my Page? Go, Villain, fetch a Surgeon.