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Not in a grave,

The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears ;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;
And art thou chang’d? pronounce this sentence

then Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

Rom. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline. Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

, Rom. And bad'st me bury love.

Fri. To lay one in, another out to have. Rom. I pray thee, chide not: she, whom I love

now, Doth grace

and love for love allow;
The other did not so.

0, she knew well,
Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
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.

[Exeunt. SCENE IV.

for grace,

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A Street.

Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO. Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night?

I stand on sudden haste.) i. e. it is of the umost conse. quence for me to be hasty.

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Ben. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench,

that Rosaline, 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 car with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft ;0 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 :8 Ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso ! the hay !


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the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft;] The allusion is to archery. The clout or white mark at which the arrows are directed, was fastened by a black pin placed in the center of it. To hit this was the highest ambition of every marksman.

More than prince of cats,] Tybert, the name given to the cat, in the story-book of Reynard the For.

a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause : ] i.e. a gentleman of the first rank, of the first eminence among these duellists; and one who understands the whole science of quarrelling, and will tell you of the first cause, and the second cause, for which a man is to fight.

9 — the hay!] All the terms of the modern fencing-school

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Ben. The what?

Mer. The pox of such antick, 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-moy's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench: 0, their bons, their bons!

Enter Romeo.


Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. : Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring:

0 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 be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbé, à grey eye or so, but not to the purpose.-Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French

a salutation to your French slop.' You gave us the , counterfeit fairly last night.

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

Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; Can you not conceive?

Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was


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were originally Italian; the rapier, or small thrusting sword, being first used in Italy. The hay is the word hai, you have it, used when a thrust reaches the antagonist, from which our fencers, on the same occasion, without knowing, I suppose, any reason for it, dry out, ha!

your Frerich slop.] Stops are large loose breeches or trowsers, worn at present only by sailors.

* The slip, sir, the slip;] In our author's time there was à counterfeit piece of money distinguished by the name of a skip;





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great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy.

Mer. That's as much as to say such a case 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.
Rom. Pink for flower.
Mer. Right.
Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered."

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.

Rom. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness!

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits fail. Rom. Switch and


switch and spurs; or I'll


cry a match.


Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chace, I have done; for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: Was I with you there for the goose ?

? Rom. 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.


then is my pump well fowered.] Is. was the custom to wear ribbons in the shoes formed into the shape of roses, or of any other flowers. O single-soled jest,] i.e. slight, unsolid, feeble.

if thy wits run the wild-goose chace,] One kind of horserace, which resembled the flight of wild-geese, was formerly known by this name. Two horses were started together; and which ever rider could get the lead, the other was obliged to follow him over whatever ground the foremost jockey, chose to go. Thật horses which could distance the other, won the race.

Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not.

Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting ;' it is a most sharp sauce.

Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose ?

Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel,” that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad!

Rom. I stretch it out for that word-broad : which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

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


tale against the hair.

Ben. Thou would'st 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.

Rom. Here's goodly geer!


Enter Nurse and PETER.
Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail !
Ben. Two, two; a shirt, and a smock.
Nurse. Peter!
Peter. Anon?
Nurse. My fan, Peter.'

bitter sweeting:] Is an apple of that name.

a wit of cheverel,] Cheverel is soft leather for gloves. 8 My fan, Peter.) The business of Peter carrying the Nurse's fan, seems ridiculous according to modern manners; but such was formerly the practice.



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