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Beshrew your heart for sending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

Jul. I' faith, 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 repliest ?
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 my aching bones ?
Henceforward 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 have.

Nurse. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence' cell; There stays a husband to make you a wife. Now comes the wanton 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 soon, 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.


SCENE VI. Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter Friar LAURENCE and Romeo. Fri. So smile the Heavens upon this holy act, That after-hours with sorrow chide us not !

1 This scene is exhibited in quite another form in the first quarto, 1597. The reader may see it in the variorum Shakspeare.

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 summer 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 heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbor air, and let rich music's tongue
Unfold the imagined happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament. They are but beggars that can count their worth;

1 “Precipitation produces mishap.”
2 This passage originally stood thus :-

“ Youth's love is quick, swifter than swiftest speed,

See where she comes !--
So light a foot ne'er hurts the trodden flower;

Of love and joy, see, see, the sovereign power!”
3 Conceit here means imagination. Vide Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 4.

But my true love is grown to such excess,
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short

work ;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
Till holy church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt.



SCENE I. A public Place.

Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants. Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire; The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, 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 thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes.

What eye,

1 It is observed, that, in Italy, almost all assassinations are committed during the heat of summer.

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 hath lain asleep in the sun.

Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter ? with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband ? and yet thou wilt tutor

me from quarrelling?

Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

Mer. The fee 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 fiddlestick ; here's that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!

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

i This and the foregoing speech have been added since the first quarto, with some few circumstances in the rest of the scene, as well as in the ensuing one.

2 Consort was the old term for a set or company of musicians.

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 hanged, sir, if he wear your livery! Marry, go before to the field, he'll be


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 injured 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 calm, dishonorable, vile submission ! A la stoccata carries it away.

[Draws. 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 withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher 3 by the ears ? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you.


1 The Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier. 2 Alluding to his name. See Act i. Sc. 4.

3 Warburton says, that we should read pilche, which signifies a coat or covering of skin or leather; meaning the scabbard. A pilche or leathern coat seems to have been the common dress of a carman.

The old copy reads scabbard.

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