Romeo + Juliet Page #4

Father Lawrence:

O, she new well. Thy love did read by rote and could not spell. For this alliance may so happy prove, to turn you household rachor to pure love. Come, young waverer, come, go with me, In one respect I'll thy assistant be. But this alliance may so happy prove to turn your household ranker into pure love.

Romeo:

O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.

Father Lawrence:

Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

Mercutio:

Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night?

Benvolio:

Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.

Mercutio:

Why that pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline. Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

Benvolio:

Tybalt, hath sent a letter to his father's house.

Mercutio:

A challenge, on my life.

Benvolio:

Romeo will answer it?

Mercutio:

Any man that can write may answer a letter.

Benvolio:

Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.

Mercutio:

But alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a white wench's black eye; one through the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Benvolio:

Why, what is Tybalt?

Mercutio:

More than prince of cats. He is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; he rests his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duelist, a duelist; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause: the immortal passado! punto reverso! the hai!

Benvolio:

The what? Here comes Romeo. Ro-meo!

Romeo:

Ho Ho, Capital Punks!

Mercutio:

Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

Romeo:

Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

Mercutio:

The slip, son, the slip; can you not conceive?

Romeo:

Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.

Mercutio:

That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.

Romeo:

Meaning, to court'sy.

Mercutio:

Thou hast most kindly hit it.

Romeo:

A most courteous exposition.

Mercutio:

Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

Romeo:

Pink for flower.

Mercutio:

Right.

Romeo:

Why, then is my pump well flowered.

Mercutio:

Sure Witt! Now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature.

Romeo:

Here's goodly gear!

Nurse:

I desire some confidence with you.

Mercutio:

A bawd, a bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho! Romeo! Romeo! Romeo! Will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner, thither.

Romeo:

I will follow you.

Mercutio:

Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,

Nurse:

If ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behavior, as they say: for the lady is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing, and very weak dealing.

Romeo:

Bid her to come to confession this afternoon; And there she shall at Father Lawrence' cell be shrived and married.

Juliet:

O honey nurse, what news? Nurse?

Nurse:

I am a-weary, give me leave awhile: Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I!

Juliet:

I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news: I pray thee, speak.

Nurse:

What haste? Can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath?

Juliet:

How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath to say to me that thou art out of breath? Is the news good, or bad? answer to that;

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,

Juliet:

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! O, my back! Other' other side,--O, my back.

Juliet:

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?

Juliet:

Where is my mother! How oddly thou repliest! Your love says, like an honest gentleman, Where is your mother?'

Nurse:

O lady dear! Are you so hot? Henceforward do your messages yourself.

Juliet:

Here's such a coil! Come, what says Romeo?

Nurse:

Have you got leave to go to confession to-day?

Juliet:

I have.

Nurse:

Then hie you hence to Father Laurence' cell; There stays a husband to make you a wife

Father Lawrence:

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 it's own deliciousness. Therefore love moderately. Romeo, shall thank the daughter for us both.

Benvolio:

I pray thee good Mercutio let's retire. The day is hot. The Capel's are abroad, and if we meet we shall not 'scape a brawl, for these hot day is the mad blood stirring.

Mercutio:

Keep away the cats! Thou art like one of these 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 him on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.

Benvolio:

Am I like such a fellow?

Mercutio:

Thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Verona.

Benvolio:

By my head here come the Capulets.

Mercutio:

By my heel, I care not.

Tybalt:

Follow me close. Gentlemen, good day. A word with one of you?

Mercutio:

Oo, and but one word with one of us? Couple it with something. Make it a word and a...a blow.

Tybalt:

You shall find me apt enough to that, sir. And you will give me occasion.

Mercutio:

Could you not take some occasion without giving?

Tybalt:

Mercutio! Thou art consortest with Romeo?

Mercutio:

Consort? What does thou make us minstrels? An thou make minstrels of us look to hear nothing of discords. Here's my fiddlestick. Here's that shall make you dance! Zounds, Consort!

Benvolio:

Either withdraw unto some private place, or reason coldly of your grievances, or else depart. Here all eyes gaze on us.

Mercutio:

Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Tybalt:

Peace be with you sir, Here comes my man.

Romeo:

MERCUTIO!

Tybalt:

ROMEO! The love I bear thee can afford no better term than this. Thou art a villain!

Romeo:

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 knowest me not.

Tybalt:

Boy this shall not excuse the injuries that thou has done me! Turn and Draw! Turn and Draw! Turn and Draw! Turn and Draw!

Romeo:

I do protest I never injured thee, but love thee better than thou cans't devise. Till thou shall know the reason of my love. And so good Capulet who's name I tender as dearly as mine own, be satisfied. Be satisfied.

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