Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,

Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

A challenge, on my life.

Romeo will answer it.

Any man that can write may answer a letter.

Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he

dares, being dared.

 

The what?

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

perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form,

that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their

bones, their bones!

 

This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall:

Within this hour my man shall be with thee

And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;

Which to the high top-gallant of my joy

Must be my convoy in the secret night.

Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains:

Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.

Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.

What say'st thou, my dear nurse?

Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,

Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.

Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord,

Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:--O, there

is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain

lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief

see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her

sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer

man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks

as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not

rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?

Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.