Romeo and Juliet By William Shakespeare Act II: Scene 4

Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, — 
[singing] lady, lady, lady.

[Exeunt Mercutio, and Benvolio.]

Marry, farewell! — I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was
this that was so full of his ropery?

A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and
will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.

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.

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

Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto
thee, —

Good heart, and i' faith I will tell her as much: Lord,
Lord, she will be a joyful woman.

What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.

I will tell her, sir, — that you do protest: which, as I
take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

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.

No, truly, sir; not a penny.

Go to; I say you shall.

This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

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.

Now God in heaven bless thee! — Hark you, sir.

What say'st thou, my dear nurse?

Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,
Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.

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?

Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.

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.

Commend me to thy lady.

Ay, a thousand times. [Exit Romeo.] — Peter!


Peter, take my fan, and go before.


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After the deaths of Mercutio and Tybalt, Benvolio acts as a