And flecked a darkness like a drunkard reels The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry, None but for some, and yet all different. Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. Enter ROMEO. Rom. Good morrow, father! Fri. Benedicite! What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?— But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Thou art up-rous'd by some distemp'rature, Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine. Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; And all combin'd, save what thou must combine Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is here! The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then- Rom. And bad'st me bury love. Fri. To lay one in, another out to have. Not in a grave Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love now, Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow; The other did not so. Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell. For this alliance may so happy prove, To turn your households' rancour to pure love. Rom. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. Fri. Wisely, and slow; They stumble, that run fast. SCENE IV.-A Street. Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO. [Exeunt. Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night? Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, Hath sent a letter to his father's house. Mer. A challenge, on my life. Ben. Romeo will answer it. 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 pina of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft; And is he a man to encounter Tybalt? Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? Mer. More than prince of cats,b 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 puncto reverso! the hay! 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 fashionmongers, these pardon-mes, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bons, their bons! Enter ROMEO. Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. a The centre of the target, where the pin fastened the clout. b Tybert is the name given to the cat in the story of Reynard the Fox. c Prick-song, music pricked, or noted, down, so as to read according to rule; in contradistinction to music learnt by the ear, or sung from memory. 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 and harlots; Thisbé, a grey eye or so,a 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. Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; b can you not conceive? Rom. 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. Rom. Meaning-to court'sy. Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it. Rom. A most courteous exposition. Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. Mer. Right. Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered.c Mer. Sure wit. 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. Rom. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness! Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits fail. Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match. a The grey eye-the blue eye-was the most beautiful. In the Venus and Adonis,' Venus says, "Thine eyes are grey." b Slip was the common name for counterfeit money. • The pump was the shoe. We retain the word. The ribbons in the pump were shaped as flowers. |