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 fhrift.

Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is fet On the fair daughter of rich Capulet ;

As mine on hers, so hers is set 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 wafte,
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 thefe woes were all for Rojaline.

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

Rom. I pray thee, chide not: fhe, whom I love now, Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow:

The other did not fo.

Fri. Oh, the 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 so happy prove,

To turn your houfhold-rancour to pure love.

Rom. O let us hence, I ftand on sudden hafte.
Fri. Wifely and flow; they ftumble that run fast.

SCENE IV.

Changes to the 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 fpoke with his man.

Mer. Why, that fame pale, hard-hearted, wench, that Rofaline,

Torments him fo, that he will, fure, run mad.
Ben. Tybalt, the kinfman to old Capulet,
Hath fent a letter to his father's house.

ter.

Mer. A challenge, on my life.

Ben. Romeo will answer it.

Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a let

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-shaft; and is he a man to encounter Tybalt!

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?

Mer. (3) More than prince of cats?-Oh, he's the

(3) More than prince of cats?

Tybalt, the name given to the

Cat, in the ftory-book of Reynard the Fux.

WARBURTON.

courageous

(4) 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, duellift; (5) a gentleman of the very firft houfe, of the firft and fecond caufe; ah, the immortal paffado, the punto reverfo, (6) the hay!

Ben. The what?

a

Mer. The pox of fuch antick, lifping, affected phantafies, thefe 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 should be thus afflicted with thefe ftrange flies, thefe fashion-mongers, (8) thefe pardonnez-moys, who ftand fo much on the new form that they cannot fit at ease onthe old bench? (9) O, their bon's, their ban's!

(4) courageous captain of compliments ;] A complete master of all the laws of ceremony, the principal man in the doctrine of punctilio.

A man of compliments, whom right and wrong

Have chofe as umpire;

Says our authour of Don Armado, the Spaniar1, in Lowe's labour Lof.

(5) A gentleman of the very first house, of the first and fecond caufe ;] i. e. one who pretends to be at the head of his family, and quarrels by the book. See Note on As you like it, A& V. Scene 6.

WARBURTON,

(6) The bay!] All the terms of the modern fencing-school were originally Italian; the rapier, or fmall thrufting fword, being first ufed in Italy. The bay is the word bai, you have it, used when a thrust reaches the antagonist, from which our fencers, on the fame occafion, without knowing, I fuppofe, any reafon for it, cry out, ba!

(7) Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandfire!] Humouroufly apoftrophifing his ancestors, whofe fober times were unacquainted with the fopperies here complained of. WARBURTON.

(8) Thefe pardonnez-moys,] Pardonnez-moi 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) 0, their bones! their bones!] Mercutio is here ridiculing thofe frenchifid fantastical coxcombs whom he calls pardonnez-` moys and therefore, I fufpect here he meant to write French too. O, their bon's! their bons!

i. e. How ridiculous they make themselves in crying out good, and being in extafies with every trife; as he has juft defcribed them.

before.

a very good blade! &c.

THEOBALD.
Enter

Enter Romed.

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, she had a better love to beThyme het; Dido a dowdy, Cleopatra a gipsy, Helen and Hero hildings and harlots: Thib a grey eye or fo, but now to the purpofè. 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 courtèfy. 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 most kindly hit it.

Rom. A moft courteous expofition.

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

Mer. Right.

Rom. Why, (1) 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, fotely fingular.

Rom. O fingle-fol'd jeft,

Solely fingular, for the finglenefs!

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

-I'll cry a match.

Switch and fpurs, or

:

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

(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 pinked pumps, that is, pumps punched with holes in figurès.

Rom.

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 jeft.
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 sweet goofe? Mer. O, here's (2) a wit of cheverel, that flretches 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.

Merc. Why, is not this better, than groaning for love? Now thou art fociable; 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, ftop there.

Mer. Thou defireft me to ftop in my tale, against the hair.

Ben. Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

Mer. O, thou art deceiv'd, I would have made it fhort; for I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer. Enter Nurfe, and Peter her Man.

Rom. Here's goodly Geer; a Sail! a Sail!
Mer. Two, two, a Shirt and a Smock.

Nurfe. Peter,

Peter. Anon?

Nurfe. My Fan, Peter.

Mer. Do, good Peter, to hide her face: for her fan's

the fairer of the two.

Nurse. God ye good-morrow, gentlemen.

Mer. God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.

Nurfe. Is it good den?

Mer. 'Tis no lefs I tell you; for the bawdy hand of

the dial is now upon the prick of noon.

Nurfe. Out upon you! what a man are you?

(2) a wit of cheverel,] Cheverel is foft leather for gloves.

Rom.