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The other did not so.
0, she knew well,
Ro. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTJO.
Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
that Rosaline, Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
Mer. A challenge, on my life.
Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a letter.
Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.
Mer. Alas, poor Romeo! he is already dead : stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot
thorough the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft : 1 and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?
Ben. Why, what is Tybalt ?
Mer. More than prince of cats,' I can tell you. O, he is the courageous captain of compliments : he fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom : the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause. Ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso ! the
Ben. The what?
Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents !- By Jesu, a very good blade !-- a very tall man!-a very good whore !' Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnez-moys, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench ? 0, their bons, their bons ! 4
Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.
9 In allusion to Tybert the cat, in the story-book of Reynard the Fox.
3 Terms of the fencing-school. * In ridicule of those coxcombs who affected the manners of the French,
Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified ! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in : Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen-wench ;-marry, she had a better love to berhyme her : Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra,' a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings 1 and harlots ; Thisbe, a gray eye or so, but not to the purpose.-Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
Ro. Good morrow to you both.-What counterfeit did I give you?
Mer. The slip, sir, the slip :3 can you not conceive ?
Ro. Pardon, good Mercutio; my business was great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy.
Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.
Ro. Meaning to courtesy.
I Mean women.
Loose trowsers, a French fashion in Shakspeare's time. * In allusion to a counterfeit piece of money called a slip.
* It was the custom to wear ribands in the shoes, in the shape of roses or other flowers.
Mer. Well said : follow me this jest now, till thou hast worn out thy pump; that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely singular.
Ro. O single-soled 1 jest, solely singular for the singleness !
Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits fail.
Ro. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll
cry a match.
Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wildgoose chase, I have done; for thou hast more of the wildgoose in one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole five, Was I with you there for the goose ?
Ro. Thou wast never with me for any thing, when thou wast not there for the goose.
Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting ; ? it is a most sharp sauce.
Ro. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose ?
Mer. O, here's a wit of cheveril,3 that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad!
Ro. I stretch it out for that word, broad; which, added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a
· Slight, contemptible. ? An apple of that name. 3 Kid-skin, i. e. soft, stretching.
Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo ; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.
Ben. Stop there, stop there.
Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair,
Ben. Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.
Mer. O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short: for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.
Ro. Here's goodly geer! 1
Enter NURSE and PETER.
Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail !
Mer. Pr’ythee, do, good Peter, to hide her face ; for her fan 's the fairer of the two.
Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
2 Good even.