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Jul. Where is my mother ? -- why, she is within ; Where should she be? How oddly thou reply'st; Your love says like an honest gentleman, Where is
Marry, come up, I trow; Is this the poultice for my aking bones? Henceforward do your messages yourself. Jul. Here's such a coil 4, 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
love: I am the drudge, and toil in your delight. Go, I'll to dinner ; hie you to the cell. Jul. Hie to high fortune! - honest nurse, farewell.
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.
Rom. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail tire 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,
Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,
Here comes the lady :-0, so light a foot
Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.
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 musick 's tongue, Unfold the imagin'd 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; But
my true love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
$ The long white filament which flies in the air.
Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make
short work ; And holy church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt.
ACT THE THIRD.
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, Heaven 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
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 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 ribband? 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,
Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
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. 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,
Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let
I will not budge før no man's pleasure, I.
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 field, he'll be your follower ; Your worship, in that sense, may call him
Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee, can afford
Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
Villain am I none;
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee;
Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
[Draws. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk ?
Tyb. What would'st 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 by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you.
Rom. Draw, Benvolio;
my love :
8 The Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier.
9 Case or scabbard.