Or if not fo, then here I hit it right,
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to night.

Rom. That laft is true, the fweeter Keft was mine.
Fri. God pardon fin! waft thou with Rofaline?
Rom. With Rofaline, my ghoftly father? no.
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
Fri. That's my good fon: but where haft thou
been then?

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again;
I have been feasting with mine enemy,
Where, on a fudden, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy phyfick lies;
I bear no hatred, bleffed man, for, lo,
My interceffion likewife fteads my foe.

Fri. Be plain, good fon, reft homely in thy drift; Riddling confeffion finds but riddling shrift.

Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is fet

On the fair daughter of rich Capulet;

As mine on hers, fo hers is fet on mine;

And all combin'd; fave what thou must combine
By holy marriage: When, and where, and how,
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pafs; but this I pray,
That thou confent to marry us this day.

Fri. Holy faint Francis, what a change is here!
Is Rofaline, whom thou didst love fo dear,
So foon forfaken? young mens' love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Holy faint Francis! what a deal of brine
Hath washt thy fallow cheeks for Rofaline?
How much falt-water thrown away in waste,
To feafon love, that of it doth not taste?
The Sun not yet thy fighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my antient ears,
Lo, here upon thy cheek the ftain doth fit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet.

If e'er thou waft thyfelf, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rofaline.

And art thou chang'd? pronounce this fentence then,
Women may fall, when there's no ftrength in men.

Rom. Thou chidd'ft me oft for loving Rofaline.
Fri. For doating, not for loving, Pupil mine.
Rom. And bad'ft me bury love.

Fri. Not in a Grave,

To lay one in, another out to have.

Rom. I pray thee, chide not: fhe, whom I love

now,

Doth grace for grace,

The other did not fo.

and love for love allow :

Fri. Oh, fhe knew well,

Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come and go with me,
In one refpect I'll thy affiftant be:

For this alliance may fo happy prove,

To turn your houfhold-rancour to pure love.
Rom. O let us hence, I ftand on fudden hafte.

Fri. Wifely and flow; they ftumble, that run fast.

[Exeunt.

Mer.

SCENE IV.

Changes to the STREET.

Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.

WH

HERE the devil fhould this Romeo be?
came he not home to-night?

Ben. Not to his father's, I fpoke with his man.
Mer. Why, that fame pale, hard-hearted, wench,

that Rofaline,

Torments him fo, that he will, fure, run mad.

Ben.

1

Ben. Tybalt, the kinfman to old Capulet, Hath fent 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 anfwer a letter.

Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's mafter how he dares, being dar'd.

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! ftabb'd with a white wench's black eye, run through the ear with a love-fong; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's but-fhaft; and is he a man to encounter Tybalt!

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer. More than prince of cats?—Oh, he's the ✦ courageous captain of compliments; he fights as you fing prick'd fongs, keeps time, diftance, and proportion; refts his minum, one, two, and the third in your bofom; the very butcher of a filk button, a duellift, a duellift; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause; ah, the immortal paffado, the punto reverfo, the, hay!

Ben. The what?

5

Mer. The pox of fuch antick, lifping, affected phantafies, these new tuners of accents:"A very "good blade!-- a very tall man!a very good "whore!"-7 Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandfire, that we fhould be thus afflicted with these ftrange flies, these fashion-mongers, thefe pardonnezmoy's, who ftand fo much on the new form that they cannot fit at ease on the old bench? 9 O, their bon's, their bon's!

Enter Romeo.

Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fifhified? Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his Lady was but a kitchen-wench; marry, fhe had a better love to berhyme her; Dido a dowdy, Cleopatra a gipfy, Helen and Hero hildings and harlots: Thibé a grey eye or fo, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bonjour; there's a French falutation to your French Slop. You gave us the contrefait fairly last night. Rom. Good-morrow to you both: What counterfeit did I give you

?

Mer. The flip, Sir, the flip: can you not conceive? Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and, in fuch a cafe as mine, a man may ftrain courtesy.

7 Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandfire Humouroufly apollrophifing his ancestors, whole fober times were unacquainted with the fopperies here complained of.

WARBURTON.

Thefe pardonnez-mois,] Pardonnez-mai became the language of doubt or hesitation among men of the fword, when the point of honour was grown fo delicate. that no other mode of contradiction would be endured.

9 O, their bones! their bones!] Mercutio is here ridiculing thofe frenchified fantastical coxcombs whom he calls pardonnez-moy's : and therefore, I fufpect here he

meant to write French too.

O, their bon's! their bon's! i. e. How ridiculous they make themfelves in crying out good, and being in extafies with every trifle; as he has just described them before.

- a very good blade ! &C. THEOB. Mer

Mer. That's as much as to fay, fuch a cafe as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.

Rom. Meaning, to curt'fy.

Mer. Thou haft moft kindly hit it.

Rom. A most courteous expofition.

Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Rom. Pink for flower.

Mer. Right.

Rom. Why, then is my pump well flower'd.

Mer. Sure wit-follow me this jeft, now, till thou haft worn out thy pump, that when the fingle fole of it is worn, the jeft may remain, after the wearing, folely fingular.

Rom. O fingle fol'd jeft,

Solely fingular, for the fingleness!

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio, my wit faints. Rom. Switch and fpurs,

Switch and spurs, or-I'll cry a match.

Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done for thou haft more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits, than, I am fure, I have in my whole five. Was I with you there for the goofe?

Rom. Thou waft never with me for any thing, when thou waft not there for the goofe.

Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
Rom. Nay, good goofe, bite not.

Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter fweeting,

It is a moft sharp fauce.

Rom. And is it not well ferv'd in to a fweet goofe? Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel, that ftretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad.

Rom. I ftretch it out for that word broad, which added to the goofe, proves thee far and wide a broad goofe.

1 then is my pump well flowered.] Here is a vein of wit too thin to be easily found. The fundamental idea is, that Romeo wore E

pinked pumps, that is, pumps punched with holes in figures,

a wit of cheverel,] Cheverel is foft leather for gloves. Mer.

2