Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in;

[Putting on a Mask. A visor for a visor!-what care 1, What curious eye doth quotes deformities? Here are the beetle brows, shall blush for me. Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart,

Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels;
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase,-
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on,-

The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done..

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:

If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st
Up to the ears.-Come, we burn daylight, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not so.
Mer.
I mean, sir, in delay.
We waste our lights in vain. like lamps by day.
Take our good meaning: for our judgment site
Five times in that, ere once in our tive wits.
Rom. And we mean well, in going to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go.
Mer.
Why, may one ask?
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
Mer.

Rom. Well, what was yours?
Mer.

And so did I.

That dreamers often lie. Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things

true.

Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with

you.

She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies?
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep:

Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs;
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams:
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film:
Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not halt so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of

love:

On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies

straight:

O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees:
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream;
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breath with sweet-meats fainted are.
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:8
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,

Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab,
That plats the manes of horses in the night;
And bakes the elf-locks9 foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This, this is she-
Rom.

Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;

Thou talk'st of nothing.
Mer.
True, I talk of dreams;
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Bezet of nothing but vain fantasy;
Which is as thin of substance as the air;

And more inconstant than the wind, who wous
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
Ben. This wind you talk of, blows us from our-
selves;

Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives,
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With this night's revels; and expire the term
Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,
By some vile forfeit of untimely death:
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail!--On, lusty gentlemen.
Ben. Strike, drum.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V-A Hall in Capulet's House.
Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher! 2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.

1 Serv. Away with the joint stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate:-good thou, save me a piece of march-pane; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan!

Unplagued with corns, will have a bout with you:Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all

Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, she,
I'll swear, hath corns; Am I come near you now?
You are welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day,
That I have worn a visor; and could tell

A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please :--'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone.
You are welcome, gentlemen!-Come, musicians,
play,

A hall! a hall !3 give room, and foot it, girls.

[Music plays, and they dance. More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; For you and I are past our dancing days: How long is't now, since last yourself and I Were in a mask?

2 Cup.

By'r lady, thirty years.

1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so

Of yonder knight?

Serv. I know not, sir.

Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear: Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague :Fetch me my rapier, boy:-What! dares the slave Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?

A sideboard on which the plate was placed. 2 Almond-cake. 3. e. Make room.

The dance

Now, by the stock and honor of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

1 Cup. Why, how now, kinsman? wherefore storm you so?

Tub. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe:
A villain, that is hither come in spite,

To scorn at our solemnity this night.
1 Cap. Young Romeo is't?
Tyb.
'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;
He bears him like a portly gentleman;
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:
I would not for the wealth of all this town,
Here in my house, do him disparagement:
Therefore, be patient, take no note of him,
It is my will; the which if thou respect,
Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns,
An ill-beseerning semblance for a feast.

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest;
I'll not endure him..

1 Cap.
He shall be endured;
What, goodman boy!-I say, he shall;-Go to;-
Am I the master here, or you? go to.

You'll not endure him!-God shall mend my soul-
You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!
Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

1 Cap.
Go to, go to,
You are a saucy boy:-Is't so indeed?-
This trick may chance to scath5 you ;-I know what,
You must contráry me! marry, 'tis time-
Well said, my hearts:-You are a princox ; go :-
Be quiet, or-More light, more light!

shame!

For

I'll make you quiet: What!-Cheerly, my hearts.
Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting,
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [Exit.
Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand
[To JULIET.
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,-
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too
much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips, that they must use in
prayer.

Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands

do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect

I take.

O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
Ben. Away; begone; the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.-
Is it e'en so? Why, then I thank you all;

I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night:
More torches here!-Come on, then, let's to bed.
Ah, sirrah, [To 2 CAP.] by my fay, it waxes late;
I'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse.
Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon gentie-
man?

Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door!
Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio,
Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would
not dance?

Nurse. I know not.

Jul. Go. ask his name:-if he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding-bed. Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague; The only son of your great enemy.

Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy. Nurse. What's this? what's this? Jul.

A rhyme I learn'd even now Of one I danced withal. [One calls within, Juliet! Nurse. Anon, anon:Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.

Enter CHORUS.

Now old Desire doth in his death-bed lie,

[Exeunt

And young Affection gapes to be his heir; That fair, for which love groaned, and would die, With tender Juliet match'd is now not fair. Now Romeo is belov'd and loves again,

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks: Being held a foe, he may not have access

To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new-beloved any where: But passion lends them power, time means to meet Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Er

Garden.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. Can I go forward when my heart is here! Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. [He climbs the Wall, and leaps down within it.

Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.
Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo!
Mer.
He is wise;
And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed.
Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall:
Call, good Mercutio.

Mer.
Nay, I'll conjure too-
Romeo! humors! madman! passion! lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;
Cry but-Ah me!-couple but-love and dove;
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,

Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid.
He heareth not, stirreth not, he moveth not;
The ape9 is dead, and I must conjure him.-
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip.
I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh.
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.
Mer. This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him
To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle,
Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down;
That were some spite: my invocation

Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name,
I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben. Come,he hath hid himself among those trees,
To be consorted with the humorous' night:
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar-tree,

And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit,
As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.-
Romeo, good night;-I'll to my truckle-bed;
This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:
Come, shall we go?
Ben.
Go, then; for 'tis in vain
To seek him here, that means not to be found.

SCENE II. Capulet's Garden.

Enter ROMEO.

[Exeunt.

Rum. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.[JULIET appears above, at a Window. But,soft! what light throughyonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou her maid art far more fair than she:

Be not her maid, since she is envious;

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

It is my lady; O, it is my love:

0, that she knew she were!

She speaks, yet she says nothing: What of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer it.-

I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing, and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
0. that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
Jul.

Rom.

Ah me!

She speaks:0, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul. O Romeo,Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? [Aside. Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy;Thou art thyself though, not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes,2 Without that title:-Romeo, doff3 thy name; And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself.

Rom.

I take thee at thy word:

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd

in night,

So stumblest on my counsel?

Rom.

By a name
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;

Had I it written, I would tear the word.
Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound;
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me! and wherefore?

'Humid, moist. Owns, possesses. Do off, put off.

The orchard walls are high, and hard to cumb; And the place death, considering who thou art. If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;

For stony limits cannot hold love out:
And what love can do, that dares love attempt,
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.

Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their

sight;

And, but thou love me, let them find me here:
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this
place!

Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire'
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet wert thou as far

As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea
I would adventure for such merchandise.
Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face;
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, tain, fain, deny
What I have spoke: But farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say-Ay;
And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou may'st think my 'havior light:
But, trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheardst, ere I was 'ware,
My true love's passion; therefore, pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,-
Jul. Ö, swear not by the moon, the inconstant
moon,

That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Rom. What shall I swear by?

Jul.
Do not swear at all;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.
Rom.
If my heart's dear love-
Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night:
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can say-It lightens. Sweet, good-night!
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good-night, good-night! as sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast!
Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-
night?

Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:

And yet I would it were to give again.

Rom. Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
My bounty is as boundless as the sea.
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.

I hear some noise within: Dear love, adieu!
[Nurse calls within.
Anon, good nurse!-Sweet Montague, be true.
Stay but a little, I will come again.
Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard.
Hindr ince.

• Unless.

[Exit.

. Shy.

Rom.

Jul. I will not fail;

At what o'clock to-morrow

At the hour of nine. 'tis twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back.

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it. Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Rememb'ring how I love thy company.

Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this.

Jul. "Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone: And yet no further than a wanton's bird; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,9 And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would, I were thy bird. Jul. Sweet, so would I: Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good-night, good-night! parting is such sweet sor

row,

That I shall say-good-night, till it be morrow.

[Exit. Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!

Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell;
His help to crave, and my dear hap' to tell. [Exit.
SCENE III.-Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket.
Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning
night,

Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's pathway, made by Titan's3wheels:
Now ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry,
I must fill up this osier cage of ours,
With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb;
What is her burying grave, that is her womb:
And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find;

Inclination.

The teircel is the male hawk, the falcon the female. ⚫ Fetters. Chance, fortune. The sun.

Spotted, streaked.

Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different.
O, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities
For naught so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give;
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometime's by action dignified.
Within the infant rind of this small flower
Poison hath residence, and med'cine power:
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each
part,

Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
Two such opposed foes encamp them still
In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will;
And where the worser is predominant,
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
Enter ROMEO.

Rom. Good-morrow, father!
Fri.
Benedicite!
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head,
So soon to bid good-morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
Therefore thy carliness doth me assure,
Thou art up-rous'd by some distemp'rature;
Or if not so, then here I hit it right-
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.
Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.
Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline!
Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father! no;
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Fri. That's my good son: But where hast thou
been then?

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. I have been feasting with mine enemy; Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded; both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies: I bear no hatred, blessed man: for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe. Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift, Riddling confession finds but riddling shriff. Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is

set

On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combined, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage, when, and where, and how,
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us this day.
Fri. Holy saint Francis! what a change is here!
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;
And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence
then-

Women may fall, when there's no strength in men,
Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
Rom. And bad'st me bury love.
Fri.

Not in a grave,

To lay one in, another out to have.
Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love

now,

Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow; The other did not so.

Fri. O, she knew well, Thy love did read by rote, and could not spel. But come, young waverer, come go with me In one respect I'll thy assistant be; For this alliance may so happy prove To turn your households' rancor to pure love

Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
Mer. A challenge, on my life.

Ben. Romeo will answer it.

Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a letter.

Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white wench's black eye! shot through the ear with a love-song: the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft; And is he a man to encounter Tybalt!

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer. More than prince of cats,5 I can tell you. 0, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause: Ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hay !7

Ben. The what?

Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents!-By Jesu, a very good blade!-a very tall man!-a very good whore!-Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnez-moys, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at case on the old bench? O, their bons, their bons!

Enter ROMEO.

Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring :-O fish, flesh, how art thou fishified!-Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen-wench;-marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbe, a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! There's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase I have done: for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: Was I with you there for the goose? Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast not there for the goose.

Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not.

Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter-sweeting;2 it is a most sharp sauce.

Rom. And is it not well served in to a swee goose?

Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel,3 that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad!

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

Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: for this drivelling 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 desirest ine to stop in my tale against the hair.

Ben. Thou wouldst else have made thy tale

large.

Mer. O, thou art deceived, I would have made it short: for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.

Rom. Here's goodly geer!

Enter Nurse and PETER.

Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail!
Ben. Two, two; a shirt, and a smock.
Nurse. Peter!

Pet. Anon!

Nurse. My fan, Peter.

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

Nurse. God ye good-morrow, gentlemen.
Mer. God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman.
Nurse. Is it good-den!

Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the pricks of noon. Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are you? Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made himself to mar.

Nurse. By my troth, it is well said;-For himself to mar, quoth'a ?-Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I 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 sought him: I am the youngest of that name. for 'fault of a worse.

Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.

Rom. A most courteous exposition.

Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. Rom. Pink for flower.

Mer. Right.

Rom. Why, then is my pump' well flowered. Mer. Well said: Follow me this jest now, till thou hast worn out thy pump; that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing, solely singular.

Rom. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness!

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits

Cail.

Nurse. You say well.

Mer. Yea, is the worse well? very well took, faith; wisely, wisely.

Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you?

Ben. She will indite him to some supper.
Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!
Rom. What hast thou found?

Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. An old hare hoar,6

And an old hare hoar,
Is very good meat in lent:
But a hare that is hoar,

Is too much for a score,
When it hours ere it be spent.

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

Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, lady, lady. [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO. Nurse. Marry, farewell!-I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant? was this, that was so full of his ropery?

Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear 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 An apple. Soft stretching leather. • Good-even. • Point. Hoary, mouldy. A term of disrespect, in contradistinction to gentleman.