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30 Cards in this Set

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Beginning
Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night?
B: Not to his father's, I spoke with his man
Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench that Rosaline.
Torments him so, that he will sure run mad
B: Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
A challenge, on my life.
B: Romeo will answer it
Any man that can write may answer a letter
B: Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared
Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with the white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boys butt-shaft: and is he a man to encounter Tybalt.
B: Why, what is Tybalt?
More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist: a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause: ah, immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hai!
B: The what?
The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; the new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu a very good blade! A very tall man! A very good whore!' Why, is not this a lametable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their bones, their bones!
B: Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo
Without hsi roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh, how thou art fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gypsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation for your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
R: Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?
The slip, sir, the slip; can you not concieve?
R: Pardon, good Mercutio, my buisness was great; and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.
R: Meaning, to court'sy
Thou hast most kindly hit it.
R: A most courteous expostion
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy
R: Pink for flower
Right
R: Why, then is my pump well flowered?
Well said: 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 sole singular
R: O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness
Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint
R: Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match
Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have done for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of they wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: was I with you there for the goose?
R: Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not there for the goose
I will bite thee by the ear for that jest
R: Nay, good goose, bite not
Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce
R: And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?
O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad!
I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.
Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: for this divelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.
B: Stop there, stop there.
Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.
B: Thou wouldst else have made they tale large
O, thou art decieved; I would have made it short: for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer.
R: Here's goodly gear
A sail, a sail!
N: My fan, Peter.
Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face.
N: Good ye good morrow, gentlemen
God ye good den, fair gentlewoman
N: Is it good den?
'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon
N: You say well.
Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; wisely, wisely
B: She will indite him to some supper
A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho!
R: What hast thou found?
M: No hare sir; unless a hare, ir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.

An old hare hoar,
And an old hare hoar,
Is very good mean in lent
But a hare that is hoar
Is too much for a score,
When it hoars ere it be spent.
Romeo, will you some to your father's? we'll to dinner, thither.
R: I will follow you
Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,

Lady, Lady, Lady