Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 4

Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home tonight?

Where the devil can this Romeo be? Didn't he come home last night?

Not to his father’s; I spoke with his man.

Not to his father's house; I spoke with his servant.

Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, torments him so that he will sure run mad.

Well, that same pale, hard-hearted girl, that Rosaline, torments him so much that he'll certainly go mad.

Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a letter to his father’s house.

Tybalt, old Capulet's relative, has sent a letter to his father's house.

A challenge, on my life.

A challenge, I'd bet my life on it.

Romeo will answer it.

Romeo will answer it.

Any man that can write may answer a letter.

Any man who can write can answer a letter.

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

No, he'll answer the man who wrote the letter — show him how he dares, since he's been dared.

Alas poor Romeo, he is already dead, stabbed with a white wench’s black eye; run 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?

Poor Romeo, he's already a dead man, stabbed by a pale girl's black eye, shot through the ear with a love song, the very centre of his heart split by the blind boy archer's blunt practice arrow. And is he the man to take on Tybalt?

Why, what is Tybalt?

Why, what is Tybalt?

More than Prince of cats. O, he’s the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion. He rests 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.

More than the Prince of Cats. Oh, he's the bold master of all the formalities. He fights the way you sing written music — keeping time, distance and rhythm. He pauses for his shortest rest, one, two, and the third beat is in your chest. He can slice a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very finest fencing school, who knows all the proper grounds for a quarrel. Ah, the deathless forward thrust, the backhand stroke, the home hit.

The what?

The what?

The pox of such antic lisping, affecting phantasies; these new tuners of accent. 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 pardon-me’s, who stand so much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O their bones, their bones!

A plague on all such ridiculous, mincing, posturing show-offs, these new inventors of fancy pronunciation. By Jesu, "a very good blade, a very tall man, a very good whore." Now isn't it a pitiful thing, grandfather, that we should be plagued like this with these odd insects, these slaves to fashion, these "pardon-me" men, who are so keen on the new style that they can't sit comfortably on the old bench? Oh, their bones, their bones!

Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo!

Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo!

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 berhyme her: Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gypsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bonjour! There’s a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

Without his roe, like a dried herring. Oh flesh, flesh, how you have been turned into fish! Now he's all for the verses that Petrarch poured out. Laura, compared to his lady, was only a kitchen maid — though she had a better lover to write poems about her. Dido was a frump; Cleopatra a dark-skinned wanderer; Helen and Hero good-for-nothings and whores; Thisbe had grey eyes, maybe, but nothing to the point. Signior Romeo, bonjour! There's a French greeting to match your French baggy trousers. You cheated us neatly last night.

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

Good morning to you both. What cheat did I give you?

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

The slip, sir, the slip — the counterfeit coin. Don't you get it?

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

Forgive me, good Mercutio, I had important business, and in a situation like mine a man may stretch good manners a little.

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

That's as much as to say that a situation like yours forces a man to bend at the knees.

Meaning, to curtsy.

Meaning, to bow politely.

Thou hast most kindly hit it.

You've hit my meaning exactly.

A most courteous exposition.

A very polite explanation.

Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

No, I'm the very flower of politeness.

Pink for flower.

Pink meaning flower.

Right.

Exactly.

Why, then is my pump well flowered.

Well then, my shoe is nicely decorated with flower patterns.

Sure wit, 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, solely singular.

Well reasoned. Keep this joke going with me now until you've worn your shoe out, so that when its thin single sole is worn through, the joke will last beyond the wearing out — uniquely worn thin.

O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness!

Oh, what a thin-soled joke, unique only in how feeble it is!

Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.

Get between us, good Benvolio; my wit is giving out.

Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I’ll cry a match.

Whip and spurs, whip and spurs, or I'll declare I've won the race.

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

No, if your wits are going to chase off wildly like geese, I give up. You have more of the wild goose in one of your wits than I have, I'm sure, in all five of mine. Did I get you there with the goose?

Thou wast never with me for anything, when thou wast not there for the goose.

You were never with me for anything, except when you were there as the goose.

I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

I'll bite you by the ear for that joke.

Nay, good goose, bite not.

No, good goose, don't bite.

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

Your wit is a very bitter kind of sweet apple; it's a very sharp sauce.

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

And isn't it just right, then, served up with a sweet goose?

O here’s a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad.

Oh, here's a wit made of soft kid leather, that stretches from an inch wide to a yard and a half across.

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

I stretch it out for that word "broad," which, added to the goose, proves you a broad goose, far and wide.

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.

There now, isn't this better than moaning about love? Now you're good company, now you're Romeo, now you're what you are, by skill as well as by nature. Because this slobbering love is like a great idiot, running up and down with his tongue hanging out, looking for a hole to put his fool's stick in.

Stop there, stop there.

Stop there, stop there.

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

You want me to stop my story before I've got to the point.

Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

Otherwise you'd have made your story too indecent.

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.

Oh, you're wrong; I would have made it short, because I had come to the full depth of my story and really meant to take up the subject no longer.

Here’s goodly gear! A sail, a sail!

Here's fine stuff! A sail, a sail!

Two, two; a shirt and a smock.

Two, two — a man's shirt and a woman's slip.

Peter!

Peter!

Anon.

Coming.

My fan, Peter.

My fan, Peter.

Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan’s the fairer face.

Good Peter, give it to her to hide her face — her fan is the better-looking face.

God ye good morrow, gentlemen.

God give you good morning, gentlemen.

God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman.

God give you good afternoon, fair lady.

Is it good-den?

Is it afternoon already?

’Tis no less, I tell ye; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.

It's nothing less, I tell you; the indecent hand of the clock is right on the point of noon.

Out upon you! What a man are you?

Shame on you! What sort of man are you?

One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar.

One, madam, whom God made for himself to spoil.

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?

Honestly, that's well put — "for himself to spoil," did he say? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I can find young 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.

I can tell you, but young Romeo will be older when you've found him than he was when you started looking. I'm the youngest of that name, for lack of a worse one.

You say well.

You put it well.

Yea, is the worst well? Very well took, i’faith; wisely, wisely.

Really, is the worst well? Very cleverly taken, honestly — wisely, wisely.

If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.

If you're him, sir, I'd like a private word with you.

She will endite him to some supper.

She'll invite him to some supper.

A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!

A pimp, a pimp, a pimp! There she goes!

What hast thou found?

What have you found?

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.

No rabbit, sir; unless a rabbit, sir, in a meatless pie, one that's gone somewhat stale and mouldy before it's eaten up. [He sings.] An old mouldy rabbit, and an old mouldy rabbit, is very good meat in Lent; but a rabbit that's mouldy is too much for a crowd of twenty when it goes mouldy before it's eaten up. Romeo, will you come to your father's house? We'll go there for dinner.

I will follow you.

I'll follow you.

Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, lady, lady.

Goodbye, old lady; goodbye, lady, lady, lady.

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

Tell me, sir, who was that insolent fellow so full of his filthy talk?

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

A gentleman, Nurse, who loves to hear himself talk, and will say more in a minute than he'll back up in a month.

And a speak anything against me, I’ll take him down, and 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!

If he says anything against me, I'll bring him down, even if he were stronger than he is, and twenty men like him too. And if I can't, I'll find those who can. Wretched scoundrel! I'm not one of his loose women; I'm not one of his knife-carrying companions.—And you have to stand by as well and let every scoundrel treat me however he likes!

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.

I saw no man treat you however he liked; if I had, my sword would have been out quickly. I promise you, I dare draw as soon as any other man, if I see cause 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 in 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.

Now, before God, I'm so upset that every part of me is shaking. Wretched scoundrel. Please, sir, a word: as I told you, my young lady told me to seek you out; what she told me to say, I'll keep to myself for now. But first let me tell you, if you were to lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it would be very coarse behaviour, as they say; for the young lady is young. And so, if you were to play her false, truly it would be a bad thing to do to any gentlewoman, and very shabby conduct.

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

Nurse, give my greetings to your lady and mistress. I swear to you—

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

Good heart, and truly I'll tell her exactly that. Lord, Lord, she will be a happy woman.

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

What will you tell her, Nurse? You're not listening to me.

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

I'll tell her, sir, that you swear, which, as I understand it, is a gentlemanly 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.

Tell her to find some way to come to confession this afternoon, and there, at Friar Lawrence's cell, she shall be confessed and married. Here's something for your trouble.

No truly, sir; not a penny.

No, truly, sir; not a penny.

Go to; I say you shall.

Come on; I say you will.

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

This afternoon, sir? Well, she'll 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 topgallant 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.

And wait, good Nurse, behind the abbey wall. Within the hour my servant will come to you, and bring you a rope ladder rigged like a ship's, which must carry me, in the secret night, up to the topmost mast of my joy. Goodbye, be faithful, and I'll repay your trouble. Goodbye; give my greetings to your mistress.

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

Now may God in heaven bless you. Listen, sir.

What say’st thou, my dear Nurse?

What do you say, my dear Nurse?

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

Can your servant keep a secret? Haven't you ever heard it said that two can keep a secret if you get rid of one of them?

I warrant thee my man’s as true as steel.

I promise you my servant is as reliable as steel.

Well, sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady. Lord, Lord! When ’twas a little prating thing,—O, there is 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?

Well, sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady. Lord, Lord! When she was a little chattering thing,—Oh, there's a nobleman in town, one Paris, who would gladly get his knife in beside her; but she, good soul, would as happily look at a toad, an actual toad, as look at him. I annoy her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the better-looking man, but I promise you, when I say that, she turns as pale as any rag in the whole world. Don't rosemary and Romeo both begin with the same letter?

Ay, Nurse; what of that? Both with an R.

Yes, Nurse; what about it? Both with an R.

Ah, mocker! That’s the dog’s name. R is for the—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.

Ah, you mocker! That's the dog's letter, the growling sound. R is for the—no, I know it begins with some other letter, and she has the prettiest clever sayings about it, about you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it.

Commend me to thy lady.

Give my greetings to your lady.

Ay, a thousand times. Peter!

Yes, a thousand times. Peter!

Anon.

Coming.

Before and apace.

Go ahead of me, and quickly.