Enter Nurfe, and Peter her Man.

Rom. Here's goodly gear: a fail! a fail!

Mer. Two, two, a fhirt and a fmock.

Nurfe. Peter.

Pet. Anon.

Nurfe. My fan, Peter.

Mer. Do, good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer of the two.

Nurfe. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.

Mer. God ye good den, fair gentlewoman..

Nurfe. Is it good den?

Mer. 'Tis no lefs, I tell you; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.

Murfe. Out upon you! what a man are you?

Rom. O fingle fol'd jeft,

Solely fingular for the singleness!

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio, my v wit faints.
Rom. Switch and spurs,

Switch and spurs, or I'll cry a match.

Mer, Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chace, I am done: for thou haft more of the wild goofe in one of thy wits, than I am fure I have in my whole fire. Was I with you there for the goofe?

Rom. Thou waft never with me for any thing, when thou wast not there for the goofe.

Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

Rom. Nay, good goofe, bite not.

Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter fweeting,

It is a moft fharp fauce.

Rom. And is it not well ferv'd in to a sweet goofe?

Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad.

Rom. I ftretch it out for that word broad, which, added to the goofe, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

Mer. Why, is not this better than groning for love? Now thou art fociable; 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 defireft me to stop in my tale against the hair.
Ben. Thou wouldst elfe have made thy tale large.

Mer. O, thou art deceiv'd, I would have made it fhort; for I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occu Py the argument no longer.

Rom. Good morrow, 6.c.

Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made, himfelt to mar.

Nurfe. By my troth, it is well faid: for himself to mar, quotha? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where 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 fought him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.

Nurje You fay well.

Mer. Yea, is the worst well?

Very well took, i' faith, wifely, wifely.
Nurfe. If you be he, Sir,

I defire fome confidence with you.

Ben She will indite him to fome fupper.

Mer A bawd, a bawd, a bawd.

So ho!+

Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner

thither.

Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewel, ancient lady;

Farewel, lady, lady, lady. [Exeunt Mercutio, Benvolio. Nurfe. I pray you, sir, what faucy merchant was this that was fo full of his ropery?

Rom. A gentleman, nurfe, that loves to hear himself talk; and will fpeak more in a minute, than he will ftand to in a month.

Nurfe. An' a fpeak any thing against me, I'll take him down an' he were luftier than he is, and twenty fuch 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 fkains-mates. And thou muft ftand by too, and fuffer every knave to use me at his pleature?

[To her man. Pet. I faw no man ufe you at his pleasure if I had, my weapon fhould quickly have been out, I warrant

Mer. No hare, Sir, unless a hare, Sir, in a lenten pye, that is fomething ftale 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 hoar, is too much for a fcore, when it hoars ere it

be spent. Rome, will you come, bc.

you. I dare draw as foon as another man, if I fee occafion in a good quarrel, and the law on my fide,

Nurse. Now, afore God, I am fo vex'd, that every part about me quivers Scurvy knave! Pray you, Sir, a word: and, as I told you, my young lady bid me inquire you out; what the bid me fay, I will keep to myself but firft let me tell ye if ye fhould lead her into a fool's paradife, as they fay, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they fay. 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.

Romeo. Commend me to thy lady and miftrefs, I protest unto thee

Nurfe. Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much Lord, Lord, the will be a joyful woman.

Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurfe? thou dost not mark me.

Nurfe. I will tell her, Sir, that you do proteft; which, as I take it, is a gentleman-like offer.

Rom. Bid her devife fome means to come to fhrift this afternoon;

And there fhe fhall at Friar Lawrence cell

Be fhriv'd and married here is for thy pains.

Nurfe. No, truly, Sir, not a penny.

Rom. Go to, I fay, you fhall,

Nurfe. This afternoon, Sir? well, the fhall be there.
Rom. And ftay, good nurfe, behind the abbey-wall
Within this hour my man fhall be with thee,
And bring thee cords, made like a tackled ftair,
Which to the high top gallant of my joy

Must be my convoy in the fecret night.
Farewel, be trufty, and I'll quit thy pains.

Nurfe. Now, God in heav'n bless thee! hark you, Sir.
Rom. What fayeft thou, my dear nurfe?

Nurfe. Is your man fecret? did you ne'er hear fay, Two may keep counfel, putting one away?

Rom, I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel. Nurse. Well, Sir, my miftrefs is the sweetest Lady; Lord, Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing-O, there is a Nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but fhe, good foul, had as lieve fee a

toad, a very toad, as fee him. I anger her fometimes, and tell her, that Paris is the properer man; but I'll warrant you, when I lay fo, fhe looks as pale as any clout in the verfal world. Doth not Rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?

Rom. Ay, nurse, what of that? both with an R. Nurfe. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. Ris for thee? No: I know it begins with another letter; and the hath the prettiest fententious of it, of you and rosemary, that is would do you good to hear it. Rom. Commend me to thy LadyNurfe. Ay, a thousand times.

Pet. Anon?

Peter.

[Exit Rom.

[Exeunt.

Changes to Capulet's houfe.

Nurfe. Take my fan, and go before.

Enter Juliet.

Jul. The clock ftruck nine when I did fend the nurse: In half an hour fhe promis'd to return

Perchance the cannot meet him--that's not fo
Oh, she is lame : love's heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times fafter glide than the fun-beams,
Driving back fhadows over lowring hills.
Therefore do nimble pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Now is the fun upon the highmost hill

Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours-and yet she is not come ;
Had fhe affections and warm youthful blood,
She'd be as fwift in motion as a ball;

My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me.

Enter Nurfe with Peter.

O God, fhe comes,

Haft thou met with him? fend thy man away.

O honey nurse, what news?

[Exit Peter.

Nurfe. Peter, ftay at the gate.

Jul. Now, good tweet Nurfe.

O Lord, why look ft thou fad ?

Tho' news be fad, yet tell them merrily:

If good, thou fham'ft the mufic of sweet news,

By playing 't to me with fo four a face.

Nurfe I am a weary, let me reft 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, fpeakGood, good nurse,
fpeak.

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 To fay to me, that thou art out of breath? [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 circumstance. 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 no better than another man's, yet his legs excel all mens; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, tho' they be not to be talked on, yet they are palt 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? -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.

Jul. No, no

My back o' th' other fide-O my

back. my

back:

Befhrew 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 handfome,
And, I warrant, a virtuous-Where is your mother?
Jul. Where is my mother?-why, fhe is within;
Where fhould fhe be how oddly thou reply'ft !
Your love fays like an honeft gentleman:

Where is your mother?

Nurfe, O, God's Lady dear,

i. e. no fop; this being one of their titles at that time,