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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 flirtgills; I am none of his skains-mates:-And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?
Peter. 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
Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vex'd, 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 bade me say, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into 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 lieart! 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
Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny.
Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there. Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey
Nurse. Now, God in heaven bless thee!-Hark
Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse?
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, -0,—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?
Rom. Ay, nurse; What of that? both with an R. Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R is for the dog. No; I know it begins with some other letter and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it.
Rom. Commend me to thy lady.
Nurse. Ay, a thousand times.-Peter!
Nurse. Peter, Take my fan, and go before.
Jul. The clock struck nine, when I did send the
In half an hour she promis'd to return.
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve
But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
Enter Nurse and Peter.
O God, she comes!-O honey nurse, what news? Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.
Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate.
[Exit Peter. Jul. Now, good sweet nurse,-O lord! why look'st thou sad?
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
Nurse. I am aweary, give me leave a-while;— Fye, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had! Jul. I would, thou hadst my bones, and I thy
Nay, come, I pray thee, speak;-good, good nurse, speak.
Nurse. Jesu, What haste? can you not stay a-while?
Do you not see, that 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?
Nurse. 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 excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, — 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 him, as gentle as a lamb. — Go thy ways, wench; serve God :- What, have you dined at home?
Jul. No, no: But all this did I know before; What says he of our marriage? what of that? Nurse. Lord, how my head aches ! what a head
have I ! It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. My back o’t’other side,-0, my back, my back! Beshrew your heart, for sending me about, To catch my death with jaunting up and down!
Jul. I'faith, I am sorry that thou art not well: Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my
love: Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, And, I warrant, a virtuous :-- Where is your mo
ther: Jul. Where is any mother:—why, she is within;