Rom. Commend me to thy lady.

Nurfe. Ay, a thousand times.-Peter!

Pet. Anon?

[Exit.

Nurfe. Peter, Take my fan, and go before.

SCENE V.

Capulet's Garden.

Enter JULIET.

[Exeunt.

Jul. The clock ftruck nine, when I did fend the nurse ;

In half an hour fhe promis'd to return.

Perchance, she cannot meet him :--that's not fo.-
O, fhe is lame! love's heralds fhould be thoughts,
Which ten times fafter glide than the fun's beams,
Driving back fhadows over low'ring hills:
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-fwift Cupid wings.
Now is the fun upon the highmost hill

Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours,—yet she is not come.
Had the affections, 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;
Unwieldy, flow, heavy and pale as lead.

Enter Nurfe and PETER.

O God, she comes!-O honey nurse, what news? Haft thou met with him? Send thy man away. Nurfe. Peter, ftay at the gate. [Exit PETER. Jul. Now, good fweet nurfe,-O lord! why

look'it thou fad ?

Though news be fad, yet tell them merrily;
If good, thou fham'st the musick of sweet news
By playing it to me with fo four a face,

Nurse. I am aweary, give me leave awhile Fye, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had! Jul. I would, thou hadft my bones, and I thy

news:

Nay, come, I pray thee, fpeak;-good, good nurse, speak.

Do

Nurfe. Jefu, What hafte? can you not stay awhile?

you not fee, that I am out of breath?

Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou haft breath

To fay to me that thou art out of breath?
The excufe, that thou doft make in this delay,
Is longer than the tale thou doft excuse.
Is thy news good, or bad? anfwer to that;
Say either, and I'll ftay the circumstance:
Let me be fatisfied, Is't good or bad?

Nurfe. Well, you have made a fimple choice; you know not how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body,-though they be not to be talk'd on, yet they are paft compare: He is not the flower of courtefy, but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb.-Go thy ways, wench; ferve God:-What, have you dined at home?

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

Nurfe. Lord, how my head akes! what a head
have I ?

It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back o't'other fide,-O, my back, my back!
Befhrew your heart, for fending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

Jul. I'faith, I am forry that thou art not well; Sweet, fweet, fweet nurfe, tell me, what says my -love?

'49 Nurfe. Your love fays 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, fhe is within; Where should she be? How oddly thou reply 'ft? Your love fays like an honeft gentleman,

Where is your mother?

Nurfe.

O, God's lady dear!
Are you fo hot? Marry, come up, I trow?
Is this the poultice for my aking bones?
Henceforward do your meffages yourself.

Jul. Here's fuch a coil;-Come, what fays

Romeo ?

Nurfe. Have you got leave to go to fhrift to-day?

Jul. I have.

Nurfe. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence'
cell,

There ftays a husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in fcarlet straight at any news.
Hie you to church; I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Muft climb a bird's neft foon, when it is dark;
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight;
But you fhall bear the burden foon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.
Jul. Hie to high fortune!-honeft nurse, fare-
well.

SCENE VI.

Friar Laurence's Cell.

[Exeunt.

Enter Friar LAURENCE and ROMEO." Fri. So fmile the heavens upon this holy act, That after-hours with forrow chide us not!

Rom. Amen, amen! but come what forrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her fight: Do thou but clofe our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. Thefe violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they kifs, confume: The fweeteft honey
Is loathfome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite:
Therefore, love moderately; long love doth fo;
Too fwift arrives as tardy as too flow.
Enter JULIET.

Here comes the lady :-O, fo light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlafting flint:
A lover may bestride the goffomers
That idle in the wanton fummer air,
And yet not fall; fo light is vanity.
Jul. Good even to my ghoftly confeffor.

Fri. Romeo fhall thank thee, daughter, for us

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 fkill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich mufick's tongue Unfold the imagin'd happinefs that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,

Brags of his fubftance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to fuch excefs,
I cannot fum up half my fum of wealth.

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make fhort work;

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

ACT III.

SCENE I. A publick 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 fhall not 'fcape a brawl; For now, these hot days, is the mad blood ftirring. Mer. Thou art like one of thofe fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his fword upon the table, and fays, God fend me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the fecond cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.

Ben. Am I like fuch a fellow ?

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

Ben. And what to?

Mer. Nay, an there were two fuch, we fhould have none fhortly, 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 haft.-Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reafon but because thou halt hazel eyes; What eye, but such an eye, would spy out fuch 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 haft quarrell'd with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath waken'd thy dog that