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Nurse. Jesu! What haste? Can you not stay

a while ? Do you not see, that I am out of breath? Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast

To say to me—that thou art out of breath?
The excuse, that thou dost make in this delay,
Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.
Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad ?

Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice ; you know not how to choose a man : Romeo! no, not be ; 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?

Jul. No, no: But all this did I know before; What says he of our marriage? what of that? Nurse. Lord, how my head aches ! whai a head

have I! It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. My back o't'other side,-0, my back, my back! Beshrewl your heart, for sending me about, To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

Jul. I'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?

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?

(1) Il betide.

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Enter Juliet.
Here comes the lady :-0, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting fint:
A lover may bestride the gossamersi
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

Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon2 it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich music'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.
Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make

short work ; For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, Till holy church incorporate two in one. (Exeunt.

ACT III. 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;

(1) The long white filament which flies in the air. (2) Paint, display. (3) Imagination.




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, God 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, and 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 bast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel 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 quar. relling !

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

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