Puslapio vaizdai
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Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast

breath

To fay to me, that thou art out of breath?

Th' excufe, that thou doft make in this delay,
Is longer than the tale thou doft excufe.
Is thy news good or bad? answer to that;
Say either, and I'll ftay the circumftance:
Let me be fatisfied, is't good or bad?

Nurfe. Well, you have made a fimple choice; you know not how to chufe a man: Romeo, no, not he; though his face be better than any man's, yet his legs excel all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, tho' they be not to be talk'd on, yet they are paft compare. He is not the flower of courtefy, but, I warrant him, as gentle as a lamb- Go thy ways, wench, ferve God-What, have you dined at home?

Jul. No, no-but all this did I know before: What fays he of our marriage? what of that?

Nurfe. Lord, how my head akes! what a head have I ?
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back o' th' other fide-O my back, my back:
Beshrew your heart, for fending me about
To catch my death with jaunting up and down.
Jul. I'faith, I am forry that thou art fo ill.

Sweet, fweet, fweet nurfe, tell me, what fays my love?
Nurfe. Your love fays like an honeft gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,
And, I warrant, a virtuous-where is your mother?
Jul. Where is my mother?-why she is within;
Where fhould fhe be? how odly thou reply'ft!
Your love fays like an honeft gentleman :-
Where is your mother ?·

Nurfe. O, God's lady dear,

Are you fo hot? marry come up, I trow,
Is this the poultice for my aking bones?
Hence-forward do your messages yourself.

Jul. Here's fuch a coil; come, what fays Romeo?
Nurfe. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?
Jul. I have.

Nurfe.

Nurfe. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence' cell,
There stays a husband to make you a wife.
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in fcarlet ftraight at any news.
Hie you to church, I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Muft climb a bird's-neft foon, when it is dark.
I am the drudge and toil in your delight,
But you fhall bear the burden foon at night..
Go, I'll to dinner, hie you to the cell.

Jul. Hie to high fortune--honeft nurse, farewel.

Fri.

S

SCENE changes to the Monastery.

Enter Friar Lawrence, and Romeo.

O fmile the heav'ns upon this holy Act,

[Exeunt.

That after-hours with forrow chide us not!
Rom. Amen, amen! but come what forrow can,
It cannot countervail th' exchange of joy,
That one fhort minute gives me in her fight:
Do thou but clofe our hands with holy words,
Then love-devouring death do what he dare,
It is enough, I may but call her mine.

Fri. Thefe violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they meet, confume. The fweeteft honey
Is loathfome in its own delicioufness,

And in the tafte confounds the appetite;
Therefore love mod'rately, long love doth fo:
Too fwift arrives as tardy as too flow.

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady. O, fo light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlafting flint;
A lover may beftride the goffamour,
That idles in the wanton fummer air,
And yet not fall, fo light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghoftly confeffor.

Fri. Romeo fhall thank thee, daughter, for us both. Jul. As much to him, elfe are his thanks too much. Rom. Ah! Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air; and let rich mufick's tongue Unfold th' imagin'd happiness, that both Receive in either, by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his fubftance, not of ornament: They are but beggars, that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to fuch excess,

I cannot fum up one half of my wealth.

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short work;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, 'Till holy church incorp'rate two in one..

[Exeunt.

A CT III.

SCENE, The STREET.

Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Servants.

BENVOLI 0.

Pray thee, good Mercutio, let's-retire;
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad;
And, if we meet, we fhall not 'fcape a brawl:
For now these hot days is the mad blood ftirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his fword upon the table, and fays, God fend me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.

Ben. Am I like fuch a fellow ?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy VOL. VIII.

C

mood

mood as any in Italy; and as foon mov'd to be moody, and as foon moody to be mov'd.

Ben. And what to?

Mer. Nay, an' there were two fuch, we should have none fhortly, 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 a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou haft hafel eyes; what eye, but fuch an eye, would spy out fuch 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 quarrell'd with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the fun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Eafter? with another for tying his new shoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling!

Ben. If I were fo apt to quarrel as thou art, any man fhould buy the fee-fimple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

Mer. The fee-fimple? O fimple!

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 fpeak to them.
Gentlemen, good-den, a word with one of you.

Mer. And but one word with one of us? couple it with fomething, make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. You fhall find me apt enough to that, Sir, if you will give me occafion.

Mer. Could you not take fome occafion without giving? Tyb. Mercutio, thou confort'ft with Romeo

Mer. Confort! what doft thou make us minftrels! if thou make minstrels ofps, look to hear nothing but difcords: here's my fiddlehtick; here's that, fhall make you dance. Zounds! confort!

[Laying his band on his fword. Ben. We talk here in the publick haunt of men:

Either withdraw unto fome private place,
Or reafon coldly of your grievances,
Or elfe depart: here all eyes gaze on us.

Mer. Men's 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, if he wear your livery: Marry, go first 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 No better term than this, thou art a villain.Rom. Tybalt, the reafon that I have to love thee Doth much excufe the appertaining rage To fuch a greeting: villain I am none, Therefore, farewel; I fee, thou know'st me not. Tyb. Boy, this shall not excufe the injuries That thou haft done me, therefore turn and draw. Rom. I do proteft, I never injur'd thee, But love thee better than thou canst devise; "Till thou shalt know the reafon of my love. And fo, good Capulet, (whofe name I tender As dearly as my own,) be fatisfied.

Mer. O calm, difhonourable, vile fubmiffion! Ah! la Stoccata carries it away.

Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

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 reft of the eight. Will you pluck your fword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make hafte, left mine be about your ears ere it be out.

Tyb. I am for you.
Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mer. Come, Sir, your paffado.

[Drawing.

[Mercutio and Tybalt fight. C 2

Rom

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