Document:  All > Shakespeare > Tragedies > Romeo and Juliet > Act II, scene IV

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	[Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO]

MERCUTIO: Where the devil should this Romeo be?
	Came he not home to-night?

BENVOLIO: Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.

MERCUTIO: Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline.
	Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

BENVOLIO: Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
	Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

MERCUTIO: A challenge, on my life.

BENVOLIO: Romeo will answer it.

MERCUTIO: Any man that can write may answer a letter.

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

MERCUTIO: 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?

BENVOLIO: Why, what is Tybalt?

MERCUTIO: More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, 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
	hai!

BENVOLIO: The what?

MERCUTIO: 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
	perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form,
	that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their
	bones, their bones!

	[Enter ROMEO]

BENVOLIO: Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

MERCUTIO: Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, 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.

ROMEO: Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

MERCUTIO: The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?

ROMEO: Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in
	such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.

MERCUTIO: That's as much as to say, such a case as yours
	constrains a man to bow in the hams.

ROMEO: Meaning, to court'sy.

MERCUTIO: Thou hast most kindly hit it.

ROMEO: A most courteous exposition.

MERCUTIO: Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

ROMEO: Pink for flower.

MERCUTIO: Right.

ROMEO: Why, then is my pump well flowered.

MERCUTIO: 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 sole singular.

ROMEO: O single-soled jest, solely singular for the
	singleness.

MERCUTIO: Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.

ROMEO: Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.

MERCUTIO: 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?

ROMEO: Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast
	not there for the goose.

MERCUTIO: I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

ROMEO: Nay, good goose, bite not.

MERCUTIO: Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most
	sharp sauce.

ROMEO: And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?

MERCUTIO: O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an
	inch narrow to an ell broad!

ROMEO: I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added
	to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

MERCUTIO: 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.

BENVOLIO: Stop there, stop there.

MERCUTIO: Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.

BENVOLIO: Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

MERCUTIO: 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.

ROMEO: Here's goodly gear!

	[Enter Nurse and PETER]

MERCUTIO: A sail, a sail!

BENVOLIO: Two, two; a shirt and a smock.

Nurse: Peter!

PETER: Anon!

Nurse: My fan, Peter.

MERCUTIO: Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the
	fairer face.

Nurse: God ye good morrow, gentlemen.

MERCUTIO: God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.

Nurse: Is it good den?

MERCUTIO: 'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the
	dial is now upon the prick of noon.

Nurse: Out upon you! what a man are you!

ROMEO: One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for 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?

ROMEO: 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.

Nurse: You say well.

MERCUTIO: Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith;
	wisely, wisely.

Nurse: if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with
	you.

BENVOLIO: She will indite him to some supper.

MERCUTIO: A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho!

ROMEO: What hast thou found?

MERCUTIO: No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie,
	that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.

	[Sings]

	An old hare hoar,
	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 hoars ere it be spent.
	Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll
	to dinner, thither.

ROMEO: I will follow you.

MERCUTIO: Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,

	[Singing]

	'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?

ROMEO: 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 that shall.
	Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am
	none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by
	too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?

PETER: I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon
	should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare
	draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a
	good quarrel, and the law on my side.

Nurse: Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about
	me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word:
	and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you
	out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself:
	but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into
	a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross
	kind of behavior, as they say: 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: Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I
	protest unto thee--

Nurse: Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much:
	Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.

ROMEO: What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.

Nurse: I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as
	I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

ROMEO: Bid her devise
	Some means to come to shrift this afternoon;
	And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell
	Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains.

Nurse: No truly sir; not a penny.

ROMEO: Go to; I say you shall.

Nurse: This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

ROMEO: And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall:
	Within this hour my man shall be with thee
	And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;
	Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
	Must be my convoy in the secret night.
	Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains:
	Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.

Nurse: Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.

ROMEO: What say'st thou, my dear nurse?

Nurse: Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,
	Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

ROMEO: I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.

NURSE: Well, sir; my mistress 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 she, good soul, had as lief
	see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her
	sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer
	man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks
	as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not
	rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?

ROMEO: Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.

Nurse: Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for
	the--No; I know it begins with some other
	letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of
	it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good
	to hear it.

ROMEO: Commend me to thy lady.

Nurse: Ay, a thousand times.

	[Exit Romeo]
	Peter!

PETER: Anon!

Nurse: Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET






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