The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse,In half an hour she promised to return
Had she affections and warm and youthful blood, she would be as swift as in motion as a ball
O God, she comes.O honey Nurse, what news? Hast thou met with him?
Peter, stay at the gate.
Now, good sweet Nurse— O Lord, why look’st thou sad?
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily.If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news
I am aweary. Give me leave awhile.Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I!
No, no. But all this did I know before.What says he of our marriage? What of that?
Well, you have made a simple choice. You know not how to choose a man. You know not how to choose a man. Romeo! No, not he, though his face be better than any man’s, 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?