– Pray you, sir, a word. My young lady bid me inquire you out. What she bid me say I will keep to myself, but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behavior. – Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee. – Oh good heart, and in faith, I will tell her as much. Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman. – What will thou tell her, Nurse? Thou dost not mark me. – I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as I take it, is a gentleman-like offer. – Bid her devise some means to come to shrift this afternoon. And there she shall, at Friar Laurence' cell, be shrived and married. (Nurse laughs) – This afternoon, sir? Well, she shall be there. (laughs) – Farewell. Commend me to thy mistress. – Oh now, God in heaven bless thee. Hark you, sir.
– Commend me to thy lady. – Yet a thousand times. Peta? – Anon. – My fan, Peta. (dramatic music) (light knocking) – O honey nurse, what news? Hast thou met with him? (door slams) Now, good sweet nurse. O Lord, why lookest thou sad? – I'm a-weary, give me leave awhile. – Nay, come, I pray thee, speak. Good, good nurse, speak. – Jesu, what haste? Can you not stay awhile? Do you not see I'm out of breath? – How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath to say to me thou art out of breath? Is thy news good, or bad? Answer to that. – Well, you have made a simple choice. You know not how to choose a man. Romeo? Pfft, no, not he. – What says he of our marriage? What of that? – O Lord, how my head aches. What a head have I. Beshrew your heart for sending me about to catch my death with jaunting up and down.
– Come, what says Romeo? – Have you got leave to go to shrift today? – I have. – Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell. There stays a husband to make you a wife. (laughing).
