Mer. O thou art deceiu'd, I would haue made it short, or I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupie the argument no longer. Enter Nurse and her man.
Rom. Here's a goodly geare.
A sayle, a sayle
Mer. Two, two: a Shirt and a Smocke
Nur. Peter?
Peter. Anon
Nur. My Fan Peter?
Mer. Good Peter to hide her face?
For her Fans the fairer face?
Nur. God ye good morrow Gentlemen
Mer. God ye gooden faire Gentlewoman
Nur. Is it gooden?
Mer. 'Tis no lesse I tell you: for the bawdy hand of the
Dyall is now vpon the pricke of Noone
Nur. Out vpon you: what a man are you?
Rom. One Gentlewoman,
That God hath made, himselfe to mar
Nur. By my troth it is said, for himselfe to, mar quatha: Gentlemen, can any of you tel me where I may find the young Romeo? Romeo. I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older when you haue found him, then he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse
Nur. You say well