Is this the poultis for my aking bones?
Henceforward do your meffages 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.

Nurse. Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence' 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 nest soon, when it is dark. I am the drudge and toil in your delight, But you shall 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.

SCENE VI.

Changes to the monaftery.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo,

Fri. So fmile the heav'ns upon this holy act,
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 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. "Thefe violent delights have violent ends, "And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, "Which, as they meet, confume. The fweeteft honey Is lothfome in its own deliciousnefs,

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

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady. O, fo light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting 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 mufic'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 For, by your leaves, you fhall not ftay alone, [work; Till holy church incorp'rate two in one.

[Exeunt.

Ben.

I

The Street.

Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Servants.

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 thefe hot days is the mad blood stirring.

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 fecond 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 nore 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 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 ftreet, becaufe he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the fun. Didft thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet be⚫fore 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, 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 fhall find me apt enough to that, Sir, if you will give me occafion.

Mer. Could you not take some 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 fhall make you dance, Zounds! conforts!

[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,

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 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 fenfe 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 reason 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'ft me not.
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou haft done me, therefore turn and draw.
Rom. I do protest I never injur'd thee,

But love thee better than thou canst devife,
Till thou fhalt know the reason 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 would'st 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 rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilche by the ears? Make hafte, left mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you. [Drawing. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, Sir, your paffado.

[Mercutio and Tybalt fight.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio-beat down their weapons

Gentlemen-for fhame, forbear this outrage.

Tybalt-Mercutio-the Prince expressly hath

Forbidden bandying in Verona streets.

Hold, Tybalt,-good Mercutio.

Mer. I am hurt.

A plague of both the houfes! I am sped :

Is he gone, and hath nothing?

Ben, What, art thou hurt?

[Exit Tybalt.

I am

Mer. Ay, ay, a fcratch, a feratch; marry, 'tis enough.. Where is my page? go, villain, fetch a furgeon. Rom. Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not fo deep as a well, nor fo wide as a church-door, but 'tis enough, 'twill ferve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. pepper'd, I warrant, for this world: A plague of both your houses! What, a dog, a rat, a moufe, a cat, to fcratch a man to death? a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic? why the devil! came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into fome house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint; à plague o' both your houses!
They have made worms-meat of me,

I have it, and foundly too.

Plague o' your houfes ! [Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio..

SCENE

II.

Rom. This Gentleman, the prince's near ally,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation ftain'd

With Tybalt's flander; Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my coufin: O fweet Juliet,

Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,

And in my temper foft'ned valour's steel..

Enter Benvolio

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead :

That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds,

Which too untimely here did fcorn the earth.

Rom. This day's black fate on more days does depend;; This but begins the woe, others must end..

Enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again..
Rom. Alive? in triumph? and Mercutio flain?!

Away to heav'n, respective lenity,

And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now!

Now, Tybalt; take the villain back again,

That late thou gav'ft ine; for Mercutio's foul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company:
Or thou or 1, or both, must go with him..