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body,--though they be not to be talked on, yet they are past.compare: He is not the flower of courtesy,-but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb.—Go thy ways, wench; serve God.- What, have you dined at home?

Jul. No, no: But all this did I know before; What says he of our inarriage? what of that?

Nurse. Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I? Il beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. My back o’t’other side,-0, my back, my back Beshrew your heart, for sending me about, To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

Jul. I am sorry that thou art not well: Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?

Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,
And, I warrant, a virtuous :- Where is your mother?

Jul. Where is my mother?-why, she is within:
Where should she be? How oddly thou reply’sl?
Your love says like an honest gentleman,-
Where is your mother?

0, God's lady dear!
Are you so hot?. Marry, come up, I trow;
Is this the poultice for iny aching bones?
Heuceforward do your messages yourself.

Jul. Here's such a coil;—come, what says Romeo
Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?
Jul. I brave.

Nurse. Then hie you lience to friar Laurence' cell, There stays a husband to make you a wife : Now comes the wanlon blood up in

your cheeks, They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. Hie you

to church; I must another way, To fetch a ladder, by the which your love Must climb a bird's nest sooni, when it is dark : I am the drudge, and toil in your delight; But you shall bear the burden soon at night. Go, I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell. Jul. Hie to high fortune!-honest nurse, farewell.



Fri. So smile the heavens opon this holy act,
That after-hours with sorrow chide us not!

Rom. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy,
That one short minute gives me in her sight:
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. These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume: The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite :
Therefore, love moderately; long love doth so;,
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

Here comes the lady:-0, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint :
A lover may bestride the gossamers
That idle in the wanton saminer air,
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.
Fri. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
Jul. As much to him, else 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 music's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd bappiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in malter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to such excess,
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth. [work;

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, Till holy church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt.

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SCENE 1. A public Place.
Enter Mercurio, Benvolio, Page, and Servants.
Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire;
The day is hot, the Capulets

And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl;
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and says, God send me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.

Ben. Am I like such a fellow?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.

Ben. And what to?

Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair

more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thoa hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes; What eye,

but such an eye, would spy out such 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 quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that Jath lain asleep in the suu. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying bis new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

Ben. An I were so apt lo quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the tee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. Mer. The simple? O simple!

Enter TYBALT and others.
Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, 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 something; make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, if you will give me occasion.

Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving?

Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo,

Mer. Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddle-stick; here's that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!

Ben. We talk here in the pablic haunt of men:
Either withdraw into some private place,
Or reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

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 before to field, he'll be your follower;
Your worship, in that sense, may call him-man.

Tyb. Romeo, the hate 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 excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting :-Villain am I none;
Therefore farewell; I see, thou know'st me not.

Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw.

Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee; But love thee better than thou canst devise, Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: And so, good Capulet,—which name I tender As dearly as mine own,-be satisfied.

Mer. O calın, dishonourable, vile submission ! A la stoccata carries it away.

[Draus. 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 witbal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I you.

[Drawing. RomMercutio, thy : Mer. Come, sir, your passado.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio; Beat down their weapons :-Gentlemen, for shame Forbear this outrage ;–Tybalt--MercutioThe prince expressly hath forbid this bandying In Verona streets :-hold, Tybalt;--good Mercutio.

(Exeunt Tybalt and his Partizans. Mer. I am hurt :A plague o’both the houses !- I am sped :Is he gone, and bath nothing? Ben.

What, art thou hurt? Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry,'tis enough.-Where is my page?-go, villain, fetch a surgeon.

[Exit Page. Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'lis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a

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