Now is the sun upon the highmost hill

Of this day’s journey, and from nine till twelve

Is three long hours, yet she is not come.

Had she affections and warm youthful blood,

She’d be as swift in motion as a ball;

My words would bandy her to my sweet love,

And his to me.

But old folks, many feign as they were dead;

Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.

 Enter Nurse and

Peter.


O God, she comes. O honey Nurse, what news?

Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.


NURSE.

Peter, stay at the gate.


 [Exit Peter.]
JULIET.

Now, good sweet Nurse,—O Lord, why look’st thou sad?

Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;

If good, thou sham’st the music of sweet news

By playing it to me with so sour a face.


NURSE.

I am aweary, give me leave awhile;

Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had!


JULIET.

I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:

Nay come, I pray thee speak; good, good Nurse, speak.


NURSE.

Jesu, what haste? Can you not stay a while?

Do you not see that I am out of breath?


JULIET.

How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath

To say to me that thou art out of breath?

The excuse that thou dost make in this delay

Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.

Is thy news good or bad? Answer to that;

Say either, and I’ll stay the circumstance.

Let me be satisfied, is’t good or bad?


NURSE.

Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man. Romeo?

No, not he. Though his face be better than any man’s, yet his leg excels

all men’s, and for a hand and a foot, and a body, though they be not to

be talked on, yet they are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy, but

I’ll warrant him as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench, serve God.

What, have you dined at home?


JULIET.

No, no. But all this did I know before.

What says he of our marriage? What of that?


NURSE.

Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I!