Nur. I am a weary, give me leave a while; Fy, how my Bones ake, what a Jaunt have I had? Jul. I would thou hadft my Bones, and I thy News: Nay come, I pray thee fpeak- Good Nurfe fpeak. Nur. Jefu! what hafte? can you not stay a while? Do you not fee how 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? The Excufe that thou doft make in this delay, Is longer than the Tale thou doft excufe. Is thy News good or bad? Anfwer to that, Say either, and I'll ftay the Circumstance: Let me be fatisfied, is't good or bad? Nur. 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 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 paft compare. He is not the Flow. er of Courtefie, 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. O God's Lady dear, Are you fo hot? marry come up I trow, D 3 Hence Hence-forward, do your Meffages your felf. Nur. Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence's Cell, I am the drudge and toil in your Delight, But you fhall bear the Burthen foon at Night. Jul. Hie to high Fortune; honeft Nurfe farewel. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. The Monaftery. Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo. Fri. So fmile the Heavens upon this holy Act, Rom. Amen, Amen; but come what Sorow can, Fri. Thefe violent Delights have violent Ends, And in the tafte confounds the Appetite: Enter Juliet. Here comes the Lady. Oh fo light a foot Ful. Jul. Good-even to my ghoftly Confeffor. Jul. Conceit more rich in Matter than in Words, I cannot fum up fome half of my Wealth. Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make fhort Work, For, by your leaves, you fhall not stay alone, 'Till holy Church incorporate two in one. АСТ III. SCENE I. SCENE The Street. Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Servants. Ben. I Pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire, And if we meet, we fhall not fcape a Brawl; Exeunt. Mer. Thou art like one of thofe Fellows, that when he enters the confines of a Tavern, claps me his Sword upon the Table, and fays, God fend me no need of thee: And by the Operation of a fecond Cup, draws him 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 moved to be moody, and as foon moody to be mov'd. Ben. And what too? Mer. Nay, and 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 hafel Eyes; what Eye, but fuch an Eye, would fpy 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 afleep in the Sun. Didft thou not fall out with a Tailor for wearing his new Doublet before Eafter? with another, for tying his new. Shooes with old Ribband? And yet thou wilt Tutor me from quarrelling! Ben. And 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. Mer. The Fee-fimple? O fimple! Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others. Ben. By my Head here come the Capulets. 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, and Will give me occafion. you Mer. Could you not take fome Occafion without giving ? Tyb. Mercutio, thou confort'ft with Romeo Mer. Confort! What, doft thou make us Minstrels? And thou make Minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but Difcords: Here's my Fiddleftick; here's thar fhall make you dance. Come, Confort. [Laying his Hind on his Sword. Ben. We talk here in the pubuck 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. Mens Eyes were made to look, and let them I will not budge for no Man's pleasure I. gaze, Enter Enter Romeo. Tyb. Well, peace be with you, Sir, here comes my Man. Therefore farewel, I fee thou know'ft me not. Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile Submiffion! 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 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. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier up. [Drawing. [Mer. and Tyb. fight, Rom. Draw, Benvolio----beat down their Weapons- Tybalt Mercutio the Prince exprefly hath Hold Tybaltgood Mercutio. Mer. I am hurt A Plague of both the Houses, I am sped : Is he gone, and hath nothing? Ben. What, art thou hurt? [Exit Tybalt. Mer. Ay, ay, a Scratch, a Scratch; marry 'tis enough. Where is my Page? Go, Villain, fetch a Surgeon. Rom. |