Romeo and Juliet / Ромео и Джульетта

Nurse

I am aweary, give me leave awhile;

Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had!

Juliet

I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:

Nay come, I pray thee speak; good, good Nurse, speak.

Nurse

Jesu, what haste? Can you not stay a while? Do you not see that I am out of breath?

Juliet

How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath

To say to me that thou art out of breath?

The excuse that thou dost make in this delay

Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.

Is thy news good or bad? Answer to that;

Say either, and I’ll stay the circumstance.

Let me be satisfied, is’t good or bad?

Nurse

Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man. Romeo? No, not he. Though his face be better than any man’s, yet his leg excels all men’s, and for a hand and a foot, and a body, though they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy, but I’ll warrant him as gentle as a lamb.

Juliet

No, no. But all this did I know before.

What says he of our marriage? What of that?

Nurse

Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I!

It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.

My back o’ t’other side, – O my back, my back!

Beshrew your heart for sending me about

To catch my death with jauncing up and down.

Juliet

I’faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.

Sweet, sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me, what says my love?

Nurse

Your love says like an honest gentleman,

And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,

And I warrant a virtuous, – Where is your mother?

Juliet

Where is my mother? Why, she is within.

Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest.

�Your love says, like an honest gentleman’,

�Where is your mother?’

Nurse

O God’s lady dear,

Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow.

Is this the poultice for my aching bones?

Henceforward do your messages yourself.

Juliet

Here’s such a coil. Come, what says Romeo?

Nurse

Have you got leave to go to shrift today?

Juliet

I have.

Nurse

Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence’ cell;

There stays a husband to make you a wife.

Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,

They’ll be in scarlet straight at any news.

Hie you to church.