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. Mar. 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! stabb'd with a white wench's black eye; shot thorough the ear with a love-song; the very pin. of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's buttshaft; And is he a man to encounter Tybalt? Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? Mer. 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 hay! 'Ben. The what? Mer. The pox of such antick, 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-moy's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease 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 flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!-Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flow'd 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; Thisbé, 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. 8 Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; Can you not con.ceive? Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy. Mer. That's as much as to say-such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. Rom. Meaning-to court'sy. 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 flower'd. 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 fail. Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match. 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. Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce. Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose? Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel, 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 driveling 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 me to stop in my tale against the hair. Ben. Thou would'st 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! Peter. 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. 'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy hand 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. Nurse. You say well. Mer. Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i'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, And an old hare hoar, Is too much for a score, Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner thither. Rom. I will follow you. lady. Mer. Farewel, ancient lady; farewel, lady, lady, [Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. Nurse. Marry, farewel!-I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery? Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear |