Is this the poultis for my aking bones?
Henceforward do your meffages yourfelf.

Jul. Here's fuch a coil; come, what fays Romeo? Nurfe Have you got leave to go to fhrift to-day? Jul I have.

Nurfe. Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence' cell, There ftays 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 away, To fetch a ladder, by the which your love Muft climb a bird's neft foon, when it is dark. I am the drudge and toil in your delight, But you thall bear the burden toon at night. Go, I'll to dinner, hic you to the cell.

Jul. Hie to high fortune;-honeft nurfe, farewel. [Exeunt

SCENE

VI.

Changes to the monaftery.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.

Fri So fmile the heav'ns upon this holy act, That after hours with forrow chide us not!

Rom. Amen, amen! but come what forrow can. It cannot countervail th' exchange of joy, That one fhort minute gives me in her fight. Do thou but clofe our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. "Thefe violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, "Which, as they meet, confume. The fweeteft honey Is lothfome in its own delicioufnels,

And in the tafte confounds the appetite;

Therefore love mod'rately, long love doth fo;
Too fwift arrives as tardy as too flow.

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady. O, fo light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint;
A lover may beftride the. goffamour,
That idles in the wanton fummer-air,
D 2

? And

And yet not fall, fo light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghoftly confeffor

Fri. Romeo fhall thank thee, daughter, for us both. Jul. As much to him, elfe 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 fweeten with thy breath This neighbour air; and let rich mufic's tongue Unfold th' imagin'd happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his fubftance, not of ornament : They are but beggars, that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to fuch excess,

I cannot fum up one half of my wealth.

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, [work; Till holy church incorp'rate two in one. [Exeunt.

A C T III.

SCENE I.

The fireet.

Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Servants.

Ben. Pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire;
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad;
And if we meet, we fhall not 'scape a brawl;
For now these hot days is the mad blood stirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of thofe fellows, that when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his fword upon 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.

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 fhould 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 less in his beard, than thou hast: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason, 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 quarrel'd with a man for coughing in the ftreet, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the fun. 'Didft thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Eafter with another for tying 'his new shoes 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, and others. ·

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me clofe, for I will fpeak to them.
Gentlemen, good-den, a word with one of you.

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 gi ving?

Tyb. Mercutio, thou confort'ft 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. Zounds! confort ?

[Laying his hand on his fword. 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. Mens' eyes were made to look, and let them

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

D 3

[gaze.

Enter

Enter Romeo.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, Sir! here comes my

man.

Mer. But I'll be hang'd, Sir, if he wear your livery a Marry, go first to field, he'll be your follower; Your Worship in that fenfe may call him man.

Tyb Romeo, the love 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 excufe the appertaining rage
To fuch a greeting. Villain i am none;
Therefore farewel; I fee thou know'ft me not.
Tyb. Boy, this fhall not excufe the injuries
That thou hast done me, therefore turn and draw.
Rom. I do proteil I never injur'd thee,

But love thee better than thou canst devife,
Till thou fhalt know the reafon of my love.
And fo, good Capulet, (whofe name I tender
As dearly as my own), be fatisfied.

Mer. O calm. difhonourable, vile fubmiffion!
Ah! la Stoccata carries it away.

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 ufe me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your fword out of his pilche by the ears? Make halte, left 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 paffado.

[Mercutio and Tybalt fight.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio-beat down their weapons→→ Gentlemen-for thame, forbear this outrage

Tybalt-Mercutio -the Prince exprefsly hath

Forbidden bandying in Verona streets.

Hold, Tybalt,-good Mercutio.

Mer. I am hurt

[Exit Tybalt.

A plague of both the houses! I am sped:

Is he gone, and hath nothing?

Ben. What, art thou hurt?

Mer.

Mer. Ay, ay, a feratch, a fcratch; marry, 'tis enough. Where is my page ? go, villain, fetch a furgeon.

Rom. Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not fo deep as a well, nor to wide as a church-door, but 'tis enough, 'twill ferve alk for me

I am

to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man, pepper'd, I warrant, for this world: a plague of both your houses! What, a dog, a rat, a mouie, a cat, to scratch a man to death? a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic why the devil came you between us I was hurt under your arm. Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into fome house, Benvolio,

Or 1 fhall faint; a plague o' both your houses!
They have made worms-meat of me,

I have it, and foundly too. Plague o' your houfes!
[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolios

Rom. This Gentleman, the Prince's near ally,

My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt

In my behalf; my reputation ftain'd

With Tybalt's flander; Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my coufin: O fweet Juliet,,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper foft'ned valour's feel.
Enter Benvolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead';
That gallant fpirit hath afpir'd the clouds,
Which too untimely here did fcorn the earth.
Rom. This day's black fate on more days does depend
This but begins the woe, others must end. 1

Enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. Rom. Alive in triumph

and Mercutio flain?

Away to heav'n, refpective lenity, i

And fire ey'd fury be my conduct now!
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'ft me; for Mercutio's foul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company:
Or thou or I, or both, must go with him.

Tyb.