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a very tall Man---a very good Whore. ----Why is not this a
lamentable thing, Grandfire, chat we should be thus afflicted
with these strange Flies, thefe Fashion-mongers, these par-
don-me's, who stand so much on the new Form, that they
cannot fit at ease on the old Bench. O their Bones, their

Enter Romco.
Ben, Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mer. Without his Roe, like a dried Herring. Flesh, Flesh, how art thou filhifieds Now is he for the Numbers that Petrarch fowed in: Laura to his Lady was a Kitchenwench; marry Me had a better love to berime her: Dide a Dowdy, Cleopatra a Gipfie, Helen and Hero Hildings and Harlots: Thisby a gray Eye or so, but not to the Purpose. Signior Romeo, Bonjour, there's a French Salutation to your French flop; you gave us the Counterfeit fairly last Night.

Rom. Good morrow to you both, what Counterfeit did I give you

? Mer. The flip Sir, the sip: can you not conceive?

Rom. Pardon Mercutio, my Business was great, and in such a Cafe as mine, a Man may strain Curtfie.

Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours con, strains a Man to bow in the Hams.

Rom. Meaning to Curtsie.
Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Rom. A most courteous Exposition.
Mer. Nay, I am the very Pink of Courtefie.
Romi Pink for Flower,
Mer. Right.
Rom. Why then is my Pump well flower'd.

Mer. Sure Wit--follow me this Jeft, now, till thou haft worn our thy Pump, that when the single role of it is worn, the Jest may remain after the wearing, sole-fingu. lar.

Rom. O single-sold Jeft. Solely singular, for the fingleness.

Mer. Come between us good Benvolio, my Wit faints.

Rom. Swits and Spurs,
Swits and Spurs, or I'll cry a Match.

Mer. Nay, if our Wits run the Wild-goose Chase, I am 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 waft not there for the Gooft ?

Mer. I will bite thee by the Ear for that Jeft.
Rom. Nay, good Goose bite not.

Mer. Thy Wit is a very bitter Sweeting,
It is a most sharp Sawce.

Rom. And is it noe well-serv'd in to a sweet Goose'?

Mer. O here's a Wit of Cheverel, that stretches from an Ioch 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, than groaning for Love? Now thou art fociable; 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.

1 Ben. Stop there, stop there. Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my Tale against the Hair: Ben, Thou wouldst else have made thy Tale large.

Mer. O thou art deceiv'd, 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.

Enter Nurse and her Man.
Rom. Here's goodly gear:
A sayle, a sayle.

Mer. Two, two, a Shirt and a Smock.
Nur. Peter.
Pet. Anon.
Nur. My Fan, Peter.

Mer. Good Peter, to hide her Face;
For her Fan's the fairer Face.

Nur. God ye good morrow, Gentlemen.
Mer. God ye good-den fair Gentle woinan,
Nur. Is it good-dens

Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy Hand of the
Dyal is now upon the prick of Noon.
Nær. Out upon you; what a Man are you?

Rom. One, Gentlewoman,
That God hath made, himself to mar.
VOL. y.



Nur. By my troth it is fad: for himself to mar, quotha ? 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 fought him: I am the youngest of that Name, for fault of a worse.

Nur. You say well.

Mer. Yes, is the worst well?
Very well took, l'faith, wisely, wisely.

Nur. If you be he, Sir,
I desire fome Confidence with you.

Ben. She will invite him to some Supper.
Mer. A Baud, a Baud, a Baud. So ho.
Rom. What haft thou found ?

Mer. No Hare, Sir, unless a Hare Sir, in a Lenten Pye; that
is something Scale and Hoar e’er it be spent.
An old Hare hoar, and an old Hare hoar, is very gond Meat

in Lent. But a Hare that is hoar, is too much for a Score, when it

hoars e'er it be spent. Romeo, will you come to your Father's? We'll to Dinner thither.

Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewel, ancient Lady:
Farewel Lady, Lady, Lady. [Ex. Mercutio, Benvolio.

Nur. I pray you, Sir, what faucy Merchant was this that was so full of his Roguery?

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.

Nur. And a speak any thing against me, I'll take him down, and 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-gils; I am none of his Skains-mates. And thou must stand by too, and suffer every Koave to use me at his pleasure.

[To her Man. Pet. I saw to Man use you at his Pleasure: If I had, my Weapon should quickly. have been out, I warrant you. I dare draw as foon as another Man, if I see occasion in a good Quarrel, and the Law on my side.

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you should

unto thee

Nur. Now afore God, I am so vext, that every part about me quivers-Scurvy Knave! Pray you, Sir, a Word: And as I told you, my young Lady bid me enquire you out; what she bid me say, I will keep to my self: But first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into Fool's Paradise, aș they say, it were a very gross kind of Behaviour, as they say, for the Gentlewoman is young; and therefore if deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any Gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

Rom. Commend me to thy Lady and Mistress, I protest

Nur. Good Heart, and I'faith I will tell her as much: Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful Woman,

Rom. What wilt thou tell her, Nurse? Thou doft not mark me?

Nur. I will tell her, Sir, that you do protest; which, as I take it, is a Gentleman-like offer.

Rom. Bid her devise some means to come to Shrifr, this af. And there she shall at Friar Lawrence's Cell, (ternoon; Be thriv'd and married: Here is for thy pains.

Nur. No, truly Sir, not a Penny.
Rom. Go to, I say you shall.
Nur. This Afternoon, Sir& Well, the shall be there,

Rom. And stay thou, good Nurse, behind the Abby-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.
Farewel, be trusty, and I'll quit thy Pains:
Farewel, commend me to thy Mistress.

Nur. Now God in Heav'n bless thee: Hark you, Sir,
Rom. What say'st thou, my dear Nurse?

Nur. Is your Man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,
Two may keep Counsel, putting one away?

Rom. I warrant thee my Man's as true as Steel.

Nur. Well, Sir, my Mistress is the sweetest Lady; Lord, Lord, when 'twas a little prating thing-O, there is a Noble Man in Town, one Paris, that would fain lay Knife aboard; but she, good Soul, had as live fee 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

D 2



fj, me looks as pale as any Clout in the versal World. Doth not Rosemary and Romeo begin both with a Letter?

Rom. Ay Nurse, what of that? Both with an R.

Nar. Ah mocker! that's the Dog's name. R. is for the no, I know it begins with no other Letter, and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and Rolemary, that it would do you good to hear it.

Rom. Commend me to thy Lady [Exit Romeo.
Nur. A thousand times. Peter?
Pet. Anon.
Nur. Before, and apace.

SCENE VI. Capulet's Honse.

Enter Juliet.
Jul. The Clock ftruck Nine, when I did send the Nurse:
In half an Hour she promised to return.
Perchance she cannot meet him-That's not so
Oh she is Lame: Love's Heralds should be Thoughts,
Which ten times faster glides than the Sun-beams,
Driving back Shadows over lowring Hills.
Therefore do nimble Pinion'd Doves draw Love,
And therefore hath the Wind-swift Cupid Wings.
Now is the Sun upon the highmoft Hill
Of this day's journey, and from nine 'till twelve-
Ay three long Hours- -and yet she is not come;
Had the Affe&ions and warm Youthful Blood,
She'd be as swift in motion as a Ball,
My Words would bandy her to my sweet Love,
And his to me;
But old Folks, many feign as they were Dead,
Unweildy, slow, heavy and pale as Lead.

Enter Nurse.
O God, the comes. O honey Nurse, what News ?
Hit thou met with him? Send thy Man away.

Nur. Peter, tłay at the Gate.

Jul. Now good sweet Nurse
O Lord, why look't thou sad?
Tho' News be sad, yet tell them merriiy,
If good, thou sham'st the Musick of sweet News,
By playing it to me with fo fower a Face.

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