MERCUTIO.
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
ROMEO.
Pink for flower.
MERCUTIO.
Right.
ROMEO.
Why, then is my pump well flowered.
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.