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Romeo and Juliet
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READ STUDY GUIDE: Act II, scenes iv–v

  
Act II, 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 to 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's 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 hay.—
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 pardonnez-moi's, who stand so
much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old
bench? O, their bons, their bons!
Benvolio.:
Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo!
Mercutio.:
Without his roe, like a dried herring.—O 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 gypsy;
Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbe, a gray eye or so,
but not to the purpose,—
[Enter Romeo.]
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 slip, 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.:
Swits and spurs, swits 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 anything 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, then, 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; not 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: for I was
come to the whole depth of my tale; and meant indeed to occupy
the argument no longer.
Romeo.:
Here's goodly gear!
[Enter Nurse and Peter.]
Mercutio.:
A sail, a sail, a sail!
Benvolio.:
Two, two; a shirt and a smock.
Nurse.:
Peter!
Peter.:
Anon.
Nurse.:
My fan, Peter.
Mercutio.:
Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face.
Nurse.:
God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mercutio.:
God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman.
Nurse.:
Is it good-den?
Mercutio.:
'Tis no less, I tell ye; for the bawdy hand of the dial is
now upon the prick of noon.
Nurse.:
Out upon you! what a man are you!
Romeo.:
One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar.
Nurse.:
By my troth, it is well said;—for himself to mar, quoth
'a?—Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young
Romeo?
Romeo.:
I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older when you have
found him than he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of
that name, for fault of a worse.
Nurse.:
You say well.
Mercutio.:
Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; wisely,
wisely.
Nurse.:
If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.
Benvolio.:
She will indite him to some supper.
Mercutio.:
A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!
Romeo.:
What hast thou found?
Mercutio.:
No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is
something stale and hoar ere it be spent.
[Sings.]
An old hare hoar,
And an old hare hoar,
Is very good meat in Lent;
But a hare that is hoar
Is too much for a score
When it hoars ere it be spent.
Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner thither.
Romeo.:
I will follow you.
Mercutio.:
Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,—
[singing] lady, lady, lady.
[Exeunt Mercutio, and Benvolio.]
Nurse.:
Marry, farewell!—I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was
this that was so full of his ropery?
Romeo.:
A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and
will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.
Nurse.:
An 'a speak anything against me, I'll take him down, an'a
were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot,
I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his
flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates.—And thou must stand
by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure!
Peter. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I had, my weapon
should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare draw as soon
as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law
on my side.
Nurse.:
Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part about me
quivers. Scurvy knave!—Pray you, sir, a word: and, as I told
you, my young lady bid me enquire you out; what she bade me say I
will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead
her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross
kind of behaviour, as they say: for the gentlewoman is young;
and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were
an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak
dealing.
Romeo.:
Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto
thee,—
Nurse.:
Good heart, and i' faith I will tell her as much: Lord,
Lord, she will be a joyful woman.
Romeo.:
What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.
Nurse.:
I will tell her, sir,—that you do protest: which, as I
take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.
Romeo.:
Bid her devise some means to come to shrift
This afternoon;
And there she shall at Friar Lawrence' cell
Be shriv'd and married. Here is for thy pains.
Nurse.:
No, truly, sir; not a penny.
Romeo.:
Go to; I say you shall.
Nurse.:
This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.
Romeo.:
And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey-wall:
Within this hour my man shall be with thee,
And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
Must be my convoy in the secret night.
Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains:
Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.
Nurse.:
Now God in heaven bless thee!—Hark you, sir.
Romeo.:
What say'st thou, my dear nurse?
Nurse.:
Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,
Two may keep counsel, putting one away?
Romeo.:
I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.
Nurse.:
Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady.—Lord, Lord!
when 'twas a little prating thing,—O, there's a nobleman in
town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good
soul, had as lief see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger
her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but
I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout
in the versal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with
a letter?
Romeo.:
Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.
Nurse.:
Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R is for the dog: no; I
know it begins with some other letter:—and she hath the
prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would
do you good to hear it.
Romeo.:
Commend me to thy lady.
Nurse.:
Ay, a thousand times.[Exit Romeo.]—Peter!
Peter.:
Anon?
Nurse.:
Peter, take my fan, and go before.
[Exeunt.]
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