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


BENVOLIO.

Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.


MERCUTIO.

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.


 Enter Nurse and

Peter.
ROMEO.

Here’s goodly gear!

A sail, a sail!


MERCUTIO.

Two, two; a shirt and a smock.


NURSE.

Peter!


PETER.

Anon.


NURSE.

My fan, Peter.


MERCUTIO.

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


NURSE.

God ye good morrow, gentlemen.


MERCUTIO.

God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman.


NURSE.

Is it good-den?


MERCUTIO.

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

prick of noon.


NURSE.

Out upon you! What a man are you?


ROMEO.

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


NURSE.

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?


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.


NURSE.

You say well.


MERCUTIO.

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


NURSE.

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


BENVOLIO.

She will endite him to some supper.


MERCUTIO.

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


ROMEO.

What hast thou found?


MERCUTIO.

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.


ROMEO.

I will follow you.


MERCUTIO.