Nurfe. Are you fo hot: marry, come up, I trow, Jul. Here's fuch a coil. Come, what fays Romeo? Nurfe. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence' cell, farewel. SCENE VI. honeft nurfe, [Exeunt. Changes to the Monaftery. Fri. So fmile the heavens upon this holy Act, Fri. Thefe violent delights have violent ends, And in the tafte confounds the appetite; Therefore love mod'rately, long love doth fo. (7) Too fwift arrives as tardy as too flow. (7) Too fwift arrives -] He that travels too fast is as long before he comes to the end of his journey, as he that travels flow. Precipitation produces mishap. Enter Enter Juliet: Here comes the lady. O, fo light a foot Jul. Good even to my ghoftly Confeffor.. Fri. Romeo fhall thank thee, daughter, for us both. Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, I cannot fum up fums of half my wealth. Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short work; For, by your leaves, you fhall not stay alone, "Till Holy Church incorp'rate two in one, ACT III. SCENE I The STREET. [Exeunt. Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Servants. BENVOLI 0. Pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire; And, if we meet, we fhall not 'fcape a brawl; (8) The day is bot,] It is obferved that in Italy almoft all affaffinations are committed during the heat of fummer. C 3 Mer. Mer. Thou art like one of thofe fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his fword 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. upon 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 mov'd to be moody, and as foon moody to be mov'd. Ben. And what to? Mer. Nay, an' there were two fuch, we should 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 lefs, in his beard, than thou haft. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reafon but because thou haft hafel eyes; what eye, but fuch an eye, would fpy 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 hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the ftreet, becaufe he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the Sun. Didft thou not fall out with a taylor for wearing his new doublet before Eafter? with another, for tying his new fhoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling. Ben. If I were fo apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee fimple of my life for an hour and a quarter. Mer. The fee-fimple? O fimple! Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others. Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets. Tyb. Follow me clofe, For I will speak to them. Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it with fomething, make it a word and a blow. Tyb. You fhall find me apt enough to that, Sir, if you will give me occafion. Mer. Could you not take fome occafion without giving? Tyb. Tyb. Mercutio, thou confort'it with Romeo Mer. Confort! what doft thou make us minstrels! if thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but difcords. Here's my fiddlestick; here's that, fhall make you dance. Come ! confort! [Laying his hand on his favord. Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw unto fome private place, Or reafon coldly of your grievances, Or elfe depart; here all eyes gaze on us. Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no man's pleasure. I Enter Romeo. Tb. Well, peace be with you, Sir! here comes my man. Mer. But Fl be hang'd, Sir, if he wear your livery. Rom. Tybalt, the reafon that I have to love thee As Mer as my own,, name I tender fatisfied.. O calm, difhonourable, vile fubmiffion! Ah! la Stoccata carries it away. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? Tyb. What wouldst 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 fhall ufe me hereafter, dry-beat the reft of the C 4 eight. eight. (9) Will you pluck your fword out of his pil cher by the ears? Make hafte, left mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tb. I am for you. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, Sir, your paffado. [Drawing. [Mercutio and Tybalt fight. Rom. Draw, Benvolio, beat down their weaponsGentlemen-for fhame, forbear this outrage Tybalt, Mercutio- the Prince exprefly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streets. Hold, Tybalt, good Mercutio. Mer. I am hurt A plague on both the houses! I am sped.. Is he gone, and hath nothing? Ben. What, art thou hurt? [Exit Tybalt. Mer. Ay, ay, a fcratch, a fcratch; marry, 'tia: enough. Where is my page? go, villain, fetch a furgeon. Ram. Courage, man. The hurt cannot be much. I am Mer. No, 'tis not fo deep as a well, nor fo wide as a church-door, but 'tis enough, 'twill ferve. Afk for me to-morrow, and you fhall find me a grave man pepper'd, I warrant, for this world. A plague on both your houses! What a dog, a rat, a moufe, a cat, tor fcratch a man to death a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetick? Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. Rom. I thought all for the beft. Mer. Help me into fome houfe, Benvolio, I have it, and foundly too. Plague o' your houfes ! [Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. (9) Will you pluck your fword out of his PILCHER by the ears ?] We fhould read, PILCHE, which fignifies a cloke or coat of skins, meaning the fcabbard. SCENE |