_Mer_: Who, _Romeo_? why he is alreadie dead: stabd with a white wenches blacke eye, shot thorough the eare with a loue song, the verie pinne of his heart cleft with the blinde bow-boyes but-shaft. And is he a man to encounter _Tybalt_? 15 _Ben_: Why what is _Tybalt?_ _Mer_: More than the prince of cattes I can tell you. Oh he is the couragious captaine of complements. Catso, he fightes as you sing pricke-song, keepes time dystance and proportion, rests me his minum rest one two and the thirde 20 in your bosome, the very butcher of a silken button, a Duellist a Duellist, a gentleman of the very first house of the first and second cause, ah the immortall Passado, the Punto reuerso, the Hay. _Ben_: The what? 25 _Me_: The Poxe of such limping antique affecting fantasticoes these new tuners of accents. By Iesu a very good blade, a very tall man, a very good whoore. Why graundsir is not this a miserable case that we should be stil afflicted with these strange flies: these fashionmongers, these pardonmees, 30 that stand so much on the new forme, that they cannot sitte at ease on the old bench. Oh their bones, theyr bones. _Ben._ Heere comes _Romeo_. _Mer_: Without his Roe, like a dryed Hering. O flesh flesh 35 how art thou fishified. Sirra now is he for the numbers that _Petrarch_ flowdin: _Laura_ to his Lady was but a kitchin drudg, yet she had a better loue to berime her: Dido a dowdy Cleopatra a Gypsie, _Hero_ and _Hellen_ hildings and harletries: _Thisbie_ a gray eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior 40 _Romeo_ bon iour, there is a French curtesie to your French slop: yee gaue vs the counterfeit fairely yesternight. _Rom_: What counterfeit I pray you? _Me_: The slip the slip, can you not conceiue? _Rom_: I cry you mercy my busines was great, and in such 45 a case as mine, a man may straine curtesie. _Mer_: Oh thats as much to say as such a case as yours wil constraine a man to bow in the hams. _Rom_: A most curteous exposition. _Me_: Why I am the very pinke of curtesie. 50 _Rom_: Pinke for flower? _Mer_: Right. _Rom_: Then is my Pumpe well flour'd: _Mer_: Well said, follow me nowe that iest till thou hast worne out thy Pumpe, that when the single sole of it is worn 55 the iest may remaine after the wearing solie singuler. _Rom_: O single soald iest solie singuler for the singlenes. _Me_: Come between vs good _Benuolio_, for my wits faile. _Rom_: Swits and spurres, swits & spurres, or Ile cry a match.