  hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.

First Servant 
  Away with the joint-stools, remove the
  court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save
  me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let
  the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.
  Antony, and Potpan!

Second Servant 
  Ay, boy, ready.

First Servant 
  You are looked for and called for, asked for and
  sought for, in the great chamber.

Second Servant 
  We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be
  brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.

  Enter CAPULET, with JULIET and others of his house, meeting the Guests and 
  Maskers
CAPULET 
  Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes
  Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you.
  Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all
  Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty,
  She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now?
  Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day
  That I have worn a visor and could tell
  A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
  Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone:
  You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play.
  A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.

  Music plays, and they dance
  More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,
  And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.
  Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
  Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;
  For you and I are past our dancing days:
  How long is't now since last yourself and I
  Were in a mask?

Second Capulet 
  By'r lady, thirty years.

CAPULET 
  What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:
  'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,
  Come pentecost as quickly as it will,
  Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.

Second Capulet 
  'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir;
  His son is thirty.

CAPULET 
  Will you tell me that?
  His son was but a ward two years ago.

ROMEO 
  [To a Servingman] What lady is that, which doth
  enrich the hand
  Of yonder knight?

Servant 
  I know not, sir.

ROMEO 
  O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
  It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
  Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;
  Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
  So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
  As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
  The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
  And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
  Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
  For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

TYBALT 
  This, by his voice, should be a Montague.
  Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave
  Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,
  To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
  Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,
  To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.

CAPULET 
  Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?

TYBALT 
  Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,
  A villain that is hither come in spite,
  To scorn at our solemnity this night.

CAPULET 
  Young Romeo is it?

TYBALT 
  'Tis he, that villain Romeo.

CAPULET 
  Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;
  He bears him like a portly gentleman;
  And, to say truth, Verona brags of him
  To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:
  I would not for the wealth of all the town
  Here in my house do him disparagement:
  Therefore be patient, take no note of him:
  It is my will, the which if thou respect,
  Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,
  And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

TYBALT 
  It fits, when such a villain is a guest:
  I'll not endure him.

CAPULET 
  He shall be endured:
  What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;
  Am I the master here, or you? go to.
  You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!
  You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
  You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!

TYBALT 
  Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

CAPULET 
  Go to, go to;
  You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed?
  This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what:
  You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.
  Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:
  Be quiet, or--More light, more light! For shame!
  I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!

TYBALT 
  Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
  Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
  I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall
  Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.

  Exit
ROMEO 
  [To JULIET] If I profane with my unworthiest hand
  This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
  My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
  To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

JULIET 
  Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
  Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
  For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
  And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

ROMEO 
  Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

JULIET 
  Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

ROMEO 
  O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
  They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

JULIET 
  Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

ROMEO 
  Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
  Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

JULIET 
  Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

ROMEO 
  Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
  Give me my sin again.

JULIET 
  You kiss by the book.

Nurse 
  Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

ROMEO 
  What is her mother?

Nurse 
  Marry, bachelor,
  Her mother is the lady of the house,
  And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous
  I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
  I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
  Shall have the chinks.

ROMEO 
  Is she a Capulet?
  O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.

BENVOLIO 
  Away, begone; the sport is at the best.

ROMEO 
  Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.

CAPULET 
  Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
  We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
  Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all
  I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.
  More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed.
  Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:
  I'll to my rest.

  Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse
JULIET 
  Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?

Nurse 
  The son and heir of old Tiberio.

JULIET 
  What's he that now is going out of door?

Nurse 
  Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio.

JULIET 
  What's he that follows there, that would not dance?

Nurse 
  I know not.

JULIET 
  Go ask his name: if he be married.
  My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurse 
  His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
  The only son of your great enemy.

JULIET 
  My only love sprung from my only hate!
  Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
  Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
  That I must love a loathed enemy.

Nurse 
  What's this? what's this?

JULIET 
  A rhyme I learn'd even now
  Of one I danced withal.

  One calls within 'Juliet.'
Nurse 
  Anon, anon!
  Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.

  Exeunt
ACT II
PROLOGUE
  Enter Chorus 
Chorus 
  Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
  And young affection gapes to be his heir;
  That fair for which love groan'd for and would die,
  With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
  Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,
  Alike betwitched by the charm of looks,
  But to his foe supposed he must complain,
  And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:
  Being held a foe, he may not have access
  To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
  And she as much in love, her means much less
  To meet her new-beloved any where:
  But passion lends them power, time means, to meet
  Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.

  Exit
SCENE I. A lane by the wall of Capulet's orchard.
  Enter ROMEO 
ROMEO 
  Can I go forward when my heart is here?
  Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

  He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it
  Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO
BENVOLIO 
  Romeo! my cousin Romeo!

MERCUTIO 
  He is wise;
  And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed.

BENVOLIO 
  He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall:
  Call, good Mercutio.

MERCUTIO 
  Nay, I'll conjure too.
  Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!
  Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh:
  Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;
  Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;'
  Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
  One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
  Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
  When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid!
  He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;
  The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.
  I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
  By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,
  By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh
  And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
  That in thy likeness thou appear to us!

BENVOLIO 
  And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

MERCUTIO 
  This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him
  To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle
  Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
  Till she had laid it and conjured it down;
  That were some spite: my invocation
  Is fair and honest, and in his mistres s' name
  I conjure only but to raise up him.

BENVOLIO 
  Come, he hath hid himself among these trees,
  To be consorted with the humorous night:
  Blind is his love and best befits the dark.

MERCUTIO 
  If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
  Now will he sit under a medlar tree,
  And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit
  As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.
  Romeo, that she were, O, that she were
  An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear!
  Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed;
  This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:
  Come, shall we go?

BENVOLIO 
  Go, then; for 'tis in vain
  To seek him here that means not to be found.

  Exeunt
SCENE II. Capulet's orchard.
  Enter ROMEO 
ROMEO 
  He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

  JULIET appears above at a window
  But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
  It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
  Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
  Who is already sick and pale with grief,
  That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
  Be not her maid, since she is envious;
  Her vestal livery is but sick and green
  And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
  It is my lady, O, it is my love!
  O, that she knew she were!
  She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
  Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
  I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
  Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
  Having some business, do entreat her eyes
  To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
  What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
  The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
  As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
  Would through the airy region stream so bright
  That birds would sing and think it were not night.
  See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
  O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
  That I might touch that cheek!

JULIET 
  Ay me!

ROMEO 
  She speaks:
  O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
  As glorious to this night, being o'er my head
  As is a winged messenger of heaven
  Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
  Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
  When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
  And sails upon the bosom of the air.

JULIET 
  O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
  Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
  Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
  And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

ROMEO 
  [Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

JULIET 
  'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
  Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
  What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
  Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
  Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
  What's in a name? that which we call a rose
  By any other name would smell as sweet;
  So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
  Retain that dear perfection which he owes
  Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
  And for that name which is no part of thee
  Take all myself.

ROMEO 
  I take thee at thy word:
  Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
  Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

JULIET 
  What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night
  So stumblest on my counsel?

ROMEO 
  By a name
  I know not how to tell thee who I am:
  My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
  Because it is an enemy to thee;
  Had I it written, I would tear the word.

JULIET 
  My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
  Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:
  Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?

ROMEO 
  Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.

JULIET 
  How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
  The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
  And the place death, considering who thou art,
  If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

ROMEO 
  With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;
  For stony limits cannot hold love out,
  And what love can do that dares love attempt;
  Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.

JULIET 
  If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

ROMEO 
  Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
  Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,
  And I am proof against their enmity.

JULIET 
  I would not for the world they saw thee here.

ROMEO 
  I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;
  And but thou love me, let them find me here:
  My life were better ended by their hate,
  Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

JULIET 
  By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

ROMEO 
  By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;
  He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.
  I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
  As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,
  I would adventure for such merchandise.

JULIET 
  Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
  Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
  For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night
  Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
  What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
  Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'
  And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,
  Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries
  Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
  If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
  Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
  I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,
  So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
  In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
  And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:
  But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
  Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
  I should have been more strange, I must confess,
  But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
  My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,
  And not impute this yielding to light love,
  Which the dark night hath so discovered.

ROMEO 
  Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
  That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--

JULIET 
  O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
  That monthly changes in her circled orb,
  Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

ROMEO 
  What shall I swear by?

JULIET 
  Do not swear at all;
  Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
  Which is the god of my idolatry,
  And I'll believe thee.

ROMEO 
  If my heart's dear love--

JULIET 
  Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
  I have no joy of this contract to-night:
  It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;
  Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
  Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!
  This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
  May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
  Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
  Come to thy heart as that within my breast!

ROMEO 
  O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

JULIET 
  What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?

ROMEO 
  The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

JULIET 
  I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:
  And yet I would it were to give again.

ROMEO 
  Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

JULIET 
  But to be frank, and give it thee again.
  And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
  My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
  My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
  The more I have, for both are infinite.

  Nurse calls within
  I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!
  Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true.
  Stay but a little, I will come again.

  Exit, above
ROMEO 
  O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard.
  Being in night, all this is but a dream,
  Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

  Re-enter JULIET, above
JULIET 
  Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.
  If that thy bent of love be honourable,
  Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,
  By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
  Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite;
  And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay
  And follow thee my lord throughout the world.

Nurse 
  [Within] Madam!

JULIET 
  I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well,
  I do beseech thee--

Nurse 
  [Within] Madam!

JULIET 
  By and by, I come:--
  To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:
  To-morrow will I send.

ROMEO 
  So thrive my soul--

JULIET 
  A thousand times good night!

  Exit, above
ROMEO 
  A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
  Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from
  their books,
  But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

  Retiring
  Re-enter JULIET, above
JULIET 
  Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's voice,
  To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
  Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;
  Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
  And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
  With repetition of my Romeo's name.

ROMEO 
  It is my soul that calls upon my name:
  How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
  Like softest music to attending ears!

JULIET 
  Romeo!

ROMEO 
  My dear?

JULIET 
  At what o'clock to-morrow
  Shall I send to thee?

ROMEO 
  At the hour of nine.

JULIET 
  I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then.
  I have forgot why I did call thee back.

ROMEO 
  Let me stand here till thou remember it.

JULIET 
  I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
  Remembering how I love thy company.

ROMEO 
  And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
  Forgetting any other home but this.

JULIET 
  'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:
  And yet no further than a wanton's bird;
  Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
  Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
  And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
  So loving-jealous of his liberty.

ROMEO 
  I would I were thy bird.

JULIET 
  Sweet, so would I:
  Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
  Good night, good night! parting is such
  sweet sorrow,
  That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

  Exit above
ROMEO 
  Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
  Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
  Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,
  His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

  Exit
SCENE III. Friar Laurence's cell.
  Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket 
FRIAR LAURENCE 
  The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
  Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,
  And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
  From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:
  Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
  The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
  I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
  With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
  The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;
  What is her burying grave that is her womb,
  And from her womb children of divers kind
  We sucking on her natural bosom find,
  Many for many virtues excellent,
  None but for some and yet all different.
  O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
  In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
  For nought so vile that on the earth doth live
  But to the earth some special good doth give,
  Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use
  Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
  Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
  And vice sometimes by action dignified.
  Within the infant rind of this small flower
  Poison hath residence and medicine power:
  For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
  Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
  Two such opposed kings encamp them still
  In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;
  And where the worser is predominant,
  Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

  Enter ROMEO
ROMEO 
  Good morrow, father.

FRIAR LAURENCE 
  Benedicite!
  What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
  Young son, it argues a distemper'd head
  So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
  Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
  And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
  But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
  Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
  Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
  Thou art up-roused by some distemperature;
  Or if not so, then here I hit it right,
  Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

ROMEO 
  That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

FRIAR LAURENCE 
  God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

ROMEO 
  With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
  I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

FRIAR LAURENCE 
  That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then?

ROMEO 
  I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
  I have been feasting with mine enemy,
  Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,
  That's by me wounded: both our remedies
  Within thy help and holy physic lies:
  I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
  My intercession likewise steads my foe.

FRIAR LAURENCE 
  Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
  Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

ROMEO 
  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 combined, save 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 pass; but this I pray,
  That thou consent to marry us to-day.

FRIAR LAURENCE 
  Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!
  Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
  So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies
  Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
  Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
  Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
  How much salt water thrown away in waste,
  To season love, that of it doth not taste!
  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 changed? pronounce this sentence then,
  Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

ROMEO 
  Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

FRIAR LAURENCE 
  For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

ROMEO 
  And bad'st me bury love.

FRIAR LAURENCE 
  Not in a grave,
  To lay one in, another out to have.

ROMEO 
  I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now
  Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;
  The other did not so.

FRIAR LAURENCE 
  O, 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.

ROMEO 
  O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.

FRIAR LAURENCE 
  Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

  Exeunt
SCENE IV. A street.
  Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO 
MERCUTIO 
  Where the devil should this Romeo be?
  Came he not home to-night?

BENVOLIO 
  Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.

MERCUTIO 
  Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline.
  Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

BENVOLIO 
  Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
  Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

MERCUTIO 
  A challenge, on my life.

BENVOLIO 
  Romeo will answer it.

MERCUTIO 
  Any man that can write may answer a letter.

BENVOLIO 
  Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he
  dares, being dared.

MERCUTIO 
  Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a
  white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a
  love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the
  blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to
  encounter Tybalt?

BENVOLIO 
  Why, what is Tybalt?

MERCUTIO 
  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:
  ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the
  hai!

BENVOLIO 
  The what?

MERCUTIO 
  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 fashion-mongers, these
  perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form,
  that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their
  bones, their bones!

  Enter ROMEO
BENVOLIO 
  Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

MERCUTIO 
  Without his roe, like a dried herring: 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; Thisbe a grey
  eye or so, 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.

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

MERCUTIO 
  The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?

ROMEO 
  Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in
  such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.

MERCUTIO 
  That's as much as to say, such a case as yours
  constrains a man to bow in the hams.

ROMEO 
  Meaning, to court'sy.

MERCUTIO 
  Thou hast most kindly hit it.

ROMEO 
  A most courteous exposition.

MERCUTIO 
  Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

ROMEO 
  Pink for flower.

MERCUTIO 
  Right.

ROMEO 
  Why, then is my pump well flowered.

MERCUTIO 
  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 sole singular.

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

MERCUTIO 
  Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.

ROMEO 
  Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.

MERCUTIO 
  Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, 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?

ROMEO 
  Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast
  not there for the goose.

MERCUTIO 
  I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

ROMEO 
  Nay, good goose, bite not.

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

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

MERCUTIO 
  O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an
  inch narrow to an ell broad!

ROMEO 
  I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added
  to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

MERCUTIO 
  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.

BENVOLIO 
  Stop there, stop there.

MERCUTIO 
  Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.

BENVOLIO 
  Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

MERCUTIO 
  O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short:
