By playing 't to me with so four a face. Nurfe. Jefu what hafte? Can you not stay a while? Do you not fee, that I am out of breath? Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou haft breath, To fay to me, that thou art out of breath? Nurfe. Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to chufe a man: Romeo, no, not he; *though his face be no better than another 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 courtesy, but I 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 fays he of our marriage? what of that? Nurfe. Lord, how my head akes! what a head have 1? It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. My back o'th' other fide-O my back, my back:.: To catch my death with jaunting up and down... * Though his Face be better than any Man's;] We should' read, be no better than another Man's. H 4 1 Nurfe. 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 the 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, Jul. Here's fuch a coil; come, what fays Romeo? Nurfe. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence' cell, i There ftays 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. [Exeunt. Changes to the Monaftery. Enter Friar Lawrence, and Romeo. Fri. That after-hours with forrow chide us not! O fmile the heav'ns upon this holy Act, Rom. Amen, amen! but come what forrow can, It cannot countervail th' exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her fight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough, I may but call her mine. Fri. These violent delights have violent ends, And in the taste confounds the appetite; Enter Juliet. Here comes the lady. O, fo light a foot Jul. Good even to my ghoftly Confeffor. Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his fubstance, 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 fhall not stay alone, 'Till Holy Church incorp'rate two in one. H 5, [Exeunt. ACT ! Pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire; Mer. Thou art like one of thofe 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 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 lefs, in his beard, than thou haft: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reafon but because thou haft hasel 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 haft quarrel'd with a man for coughing in the ftreet, becaufe he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain afleep in the Sun. Didft thou not fall out with a taylor for wearing his new doublet before Eafter? with another, for tying his new fhoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling! Ben. Ben. If I were fo apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee fimple of my life for an hour and a quarter. Mar. 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 clofe, 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 fomething, make it a word and a blow. Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, Sir, if you will give me occasion. Mer. Could you not take fome occafion without. giving? Tyb. Mercutio, thou confort'ft with Romeo -Mer. Confort! what doft thou make us minstrels! if thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but difcords: here's my fiddlestick; here's That, shall make you dance. Zounds! confort! [Laying his hand on his fword. Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men : Either withdraw unto fome private place, Or reafon coldly of your grievances, 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; No |