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. 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! stabbed with a white wench's black eye; run thorough the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft; and is he a man to encounter Tybalt? Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? Mer. More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O! he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing pricksong, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his mínim rest, 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 antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents!"By 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 pardonnezmois, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bons, their bons! Enter ROMEO. Ben. Here comes Romeo, her 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, had a better love to be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a she gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbe, a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! 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, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy. Mer. That's as much as to say strains a man to bow in the hams. Rom. Meaning to courtesy. Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it. such a case as yours con Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. Mer. Right. Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered. Mer. Well said: 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, solely singular. Rom. O single-soled jest! solely singular for the singleness. Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio, for my wits fail. Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match. Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chace, I have 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 gose, bite not. Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce. Rom. And is it not well served 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 abroad 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. Mer. O, thou art deceived! 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 geer! Enter Nurse and PETER. Mer. A sail, a sail! Ben. Two, two; a shirt, and a smock. Mer. Pr'ythee, 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 dial is now upon the prick of noon. Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are you. Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar. Nurse. By my troth, it is well said; for himself to mar, quoth'a? 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. Nurse. You say well, Mer. Yea! is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; wisely, wisely. you. Nurse. If you be he, Sir, I desire some confidence with Ben. She will indite him to some supper. Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho! What hast thou found? Mer. No hare, Sir; unless a hare, Sir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. An old hare hoar, and an old hare hoar, Is very good meat in lent: But a hare that is hoar, is too much for a score, Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner thither. Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, lady, lady. [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO. Nurse. Marry, farewell! I pray you, Sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery? 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-gills; 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 vexed, that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, Sir, a word; and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you out: what she bid me say, I will keep to myself; 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. Nurse, 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 gentlemanlike offer. Rom. Bid her devise some means to come to shrift This afternoon; And there she shall at friar Laurence' cell Be shriv'd, and married. Here is for thy pains. Rom. Go to; I say, you shall. Nurse. This afternoon, Sir? well, she shall be there. Within this hour my man shall be with thee, And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair; Must be my convoy in the secret night. Farewell! Be trusty, and I'll 'quite thy pains. Commend me to thy mistress. Nurse. Now, God in heaven bless thee! Rom. What say'st 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. 0! Nurse. Well, Sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady — Lord, lord! when 't was a little prating thing, There's a nobleman 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 varsal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter? |