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.


MERCUTIO.

Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.


ROMEO.

Pink for flower.


MERCUTIO.

Right.


ROMEO.

Why, then is my pump well flowered.


MERCUTIO.

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.


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 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?


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.