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Fri. Heaven pardon sin! wast thùu with Rosaline ?
Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father ? 'no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Fri. That's my good son: But where hast thou been then?
Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is se!
Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here !
Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline,
Not in a grave,
Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love noil',
and love for love allow;
0, she knew well,
Rom. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
SCENE IV.-A Street.
Enter BENVOLIO, and MERCUTIO.
Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted girl, that Rosaline, Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
Mer. A challenge, on my life.
Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.
Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead ! shot thorough the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind wow-boy's butt-shaft; 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, 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 gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause : Ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hay !
Ben. The what?
Mer. The plague of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes ; these rew tuners of accents !—Ma foi, a very good blade a very tall man la very fine girl !—Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashiori-mongers, these pardonnez-moys ?
Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation for you.
Rom. Good-morrow to you both.
Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and, in such case as mine, a man may strain courtesy.
Enter Nurse, and PETER.
Nurse. My fan, Peter.
Mer. Prythee, do, good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer of the two.
Nurse. Give ye good-morrow, gentlemen.
young Romeo ?
Rom. I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.
Mer. Romeo, will you come to your father's ?-we'll to dinner thither.
Rom. I will follow you.
[Exeunt MERCUTIO, and BENVOLIO. Nurse. Marry, farewell !-I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his roguery?
Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and will speak more in a minute, than he will stand to in a month.
Nurse. An ’a speak any thing against me, I'll take him down.Pray you, sir, a word : and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell
should lead her into fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behavior, as they say : for the gentlewoman is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly, it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.
Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee,
Nurse. Good heart! and, i' faith, I will tell her as much: oh, she will be a joyful woman.
Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse ? thou dost not mark me.
Nurse. I will tell her, sir,--that you do protest; which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.
Rom. Bid her devise some means to come to shrift
Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny.
SCENE V.-Capulet's Garden.
Nurse. I am aweary, give me leave a while ;-
Jul. I would, thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:
Nurse. What haste ? can you not stay ă while ?
Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath
Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man.c
--Go thy ways, girl; serve Heaven.--What, have you dined at home?
Jul. No, no : But all this did I know before;
Nurse. Oh, how my head aches ! what a head have 1 !
Jul. I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well :
Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman,
Jul. Where is my mother ?---why, she is within ;
Where should she be? How oddly thou reply'st ?
Marry, come up, I trow;
Jul. Here's such a coil. Come, what says Romeo ?
Jul. Hie to high fortune !-honest nurse, farewell.
SCENE VI.-Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter Friar LAURENCE, and ROMEO.
Rom. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,
Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.
Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,