Shakespeare's Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.
will answer it.
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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 thorough
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?
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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 hay!
Benvolio. The what?
Mercutio. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting
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fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu,
a very good blade! a very tall man!'—Why, is not
this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be
thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers,
these pardonnez-mois, who stand so much
on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the
old bench? O, their bons, their bons!
Enter Romeo
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
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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 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?
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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 curtsy.
Mercutio. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Romeo. A most courteous exposition.
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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-souled jest, solely singular for
the singleness!
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Mercutio. Come between us, good Benvolio; my
wits fail.
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 was not there for the goose.
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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
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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—
Benvolio. Stop there, stop there.
Romeo. Here's goodly gear!
Enter Nurse and Peter
Mercutio. A sail, a sail!
Benvolio. Two, two; a shirt and a smock.
100Nurse. Peter!
Peter. Anon!
Nurse. My fan, Peter.
Mercutio. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer of the two.
Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mercutio. God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.
Nurse. Is it good den?
Mercutio. 'Tis no less, I tell you, for the hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.
110Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are