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Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate.
[Exit Peter. Ju. Now, good sweet nurse,-0 lord! why
look'st thou sad ?
Nurse. I am aweary; give me leave a while:
had! Ju. I would, thou hadst my bones, and I thy
news: Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse,
speak. Nurse. Jesu! what haste ? can you not stay
awhile ? Do you not see that I am out of breath? Ju. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast
Nurse. Well, you have made a simple 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 talked on, yet they are past compare : he is not the flower of
courtesy; but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serve God.-What, have you dined at home?
Ju. No, no: but all this did I know before. What
says he of our marriage? what of that? Nurse. Lord, how my head aches ! what a head
have I ! It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. My back o't other side ;-0, my my
back !Beshrew 1 your heart, for sending me about, To catch my death with jaunting up and down!
Ju. l'faith, I am sorry that thou art not well : Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse,
tell me, what says my love ? Nurse. Your love says, like an honest gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, And, I warrant, a virtuous :
-Where is your mother? Ju. Where is my mother ?-why, she is within ; Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! • Your love says like an honest gentleman,Where is your mother?' Nurse.
0, God's lady dear! Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow! Is this the poultice for my aching bones? Henceforward do your messages yourself. Ju. Here's such a coil! Come, what says
| Ill betide.
Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to
day? Ju. I have. Nurse. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence'
shall bear the burden soon at night. Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell. Ju. Hie to high fortune !-honest nurse, farewell.
Friar Laurence's cell.
Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO.
F. Lau. So smile the heavens upon this holy act, That after-hours with sorrow chide us not!
Ro. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
F. Lau. These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die ; like fire and powder,