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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; now 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:
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.