Romeo and Juliet

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.