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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

your

mother? Nurse.

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

your

cheeks,
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
Hie you to church; I must another way,
I must

go
fetch a ladder for

your

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.

[Exeunt.

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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.

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,

4 Bustle.

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.

Enter JULIET.

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Here comes the lady :-0, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
A lover may bestride the gossamers 5
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 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.

6

$ The long white filament which flies in the air.
Paint, display.

7 Imagination

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

short work ; And holy church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt.

ACT THE THIRD.

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, 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

1

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,
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. 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

them gaze;

I will not budge før no man's pleasure, I.

Enter ROMEO.

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man.

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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
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 injur'd thee;
But love thee better than thou canst devise,
Till thou shalt know the reason of
And so, good Capulet, which name I tender
As dearly as mine own, - be satisfied.

Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
A In stoccata carries it away.

[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.

[Drawing.
Rom, Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mer. Come, sir, your passado. [They fight.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio;
Beat down their weapons:- Gentlemen, for shame

my love :

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8 The Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier.

9 Case or scabbard.

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