The clock struck nine when I did send the Nurse,
In half an hour she promised to return.
Perchance she cannot meet him. That’s not so.
O, she is lame. Love’s heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glides than the sun’s beams,
Driving back shadows over lowering hills:
Therefore do nimble-pinion’d doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
Of this day’s journey, and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours, yet she is not come.
Had she affections and warm youthful blood,
She’d be as swift in motion as a ball;
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me.
But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.
Peter, stay at the gate.
Peter, stay at the gate.
peter, stay at the gate.
peter, stay at the gate.
The opening monologue of this scene (2-5-002) is sometimes played purely as comedy — a young girl restlessly pacing. But it's doing serious character work. Juliet here is neither the obedient daughter of 1-3 nor the careful diplomat of 2-2. She's alone, thinking fast, burning with impatience, and slightly cruel about age: 'old folks, many feign as they were dead.' That last line is real. She's genuinely contemptuous of the slowness that stands between her and what she wants. This is a Juliet who has already decided what she wants and is completely impatient with anything that stands between her and it. It's also, in a small way, a preview of her later capacity for ruthlessness: when the Nurse eventually fails her in Act 3, Juliet will cut her off without much sentimentality. The attachment is real but it has limits she's already showing here.
Now, good sweet Nurse,—O Lord, why look’st thou sad?
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
If good, thou sham’st the music of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face.
Now, good sweet Nurse,—O Lord, why look’st you sad? Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; If good, you sham’st the music of sweet news By playing it to me with so sour a face.
now, good sweet nurse,—o lord, why look’st you sad...
now, good sweet nurse,—o lord, why look’st thou sad? though
I am aweary, give me leave awhile;
Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had!
I am aweary, give me leave awhile; Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had!
i am aweary, give me leave awhile; fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have i had!
i am aweary, give me leave awhile; fie, how my bones ache! w
I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:
Nay come, I pray thee speak; good, good Nurse, speak.
I would you hadst my bones, and I your news: Nay come, I pray you speak; good, good Nurse, speak.
i would you hadst my bones, and i your news: nay come, i pray you speak; good, good nurse, speak.
i would thou hadst my bones, and i thy news: nay come, i pra
Jesu, what haste? Can you not stay a while? Do you not see that I am
out of breath?
Jesu, what haste? Can you not stay a while? Do you not see that I am out of breath?
jesu, what haste? can you not stay a while? do you not see that i am out of breath?
jesu, what haste? can you not stay a while? do you not see t
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?
How are you out of breath, when you hast breath To say to me that you are out of breath? The excuse that you dost make in this delay Is longer than the tale you dost excuse. Is your news good or bad? Answer to that; Say either, and I’ll stay the circumstance. Let me be satisfied, is’t good or bad?
how are you out of breath, when you hast breath to...
how art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath to say to
The Nurse's strategy of delay — or rather her instinct to make everything about herself before helping anyone else — is structurally important for the play's pacing. Acts 2 has been moving at extraordinary speed: the party, the balcony scene, the Friar's agreement, the street banter, and now the wedding message — all in less than twenty-four hours. This scene's comedy gives the audience breathing room before the wedding itself. It also functions as a structural mirror: the same delay that's funny here, and costs Juliet twenty minutes of frustration, prefigures the much more consequential delays to come. The Nurse will delay again in Act 3 before telling Juliet about Mercutio and Tybalt. The fatal letter will be delayed in Act 5. Shakespeare is introducing the motif comically — training the audience to notice delay — before it turns tragic.
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. Go thy
ways, wench, serve God. What, have you dined at home?
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, yough 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. Go your ways, wench, serve God. What, have you dined at home?
well, you have made a simple choice; you know not ...
well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to cho
No, no. But all this did I know before.
What says he of our marriage? What of that?
No, no. But all this did I know before. What says he of our marriage? What of that?
no, no. but all this did i know before. what says he of our marriage? what of that?
no, no. but all this did i know before. what says he of our
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.
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 heare for sending me about To catch my death with jauncing up and down.
lord, how my head aches! what a head have i! it be...
lord, how my head aches! what a head have i! it beats as it
I’faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.
Sweet, sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me, what says my love?
I’faith, I am sorry that you are not well. Sweet, sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me, what says my love?
i’faith, i am sorry that you are not well. sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?
i’faith, i am sorry that thou art not well. sweet, sweet, sw
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?
Your love says like an honest gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, And I warrant a virtuous,—Whbefore is your mother?
your love says like an honest gentleman, and a cou...
your love says like an honest gentleman, and a courteous, an
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?’
Whbefore is my mother? Why, she is within. Whbefore should she be? How oddly you repliest. ‘Your love says, like an honest gentleman, ‘Whbefore is your mother?’
whbefore is my mother? why, she is within. whbefor...
where is my mother? why, she is within. where should she be?
Juliet's exit — 'Hie to high fortune!' — is one of the most emotionally ambiguous lines in the play. On the surface it's pure joy: she's running to be married. But the word 'fortune' in Shakespeare is never entirely neutral. 'Fortune' is the goddess Fortuna, who turns her wheel, raising people high only to cast them down. The play has already used the word repeatedly in this sense: Romeo and Juliet are 'star-cross'd,' their fate is written. When Juliet runs to 'high fortune,' she is also — without knowing it — running to the top of Fortune's wheel. In the play's economy, being raised highest means having the furthest to fall. The scene is the play's happiest moment. It will not stay that way.
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.
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.
o god’s lady dear, are you so hot? marry, come up,...
o god’s lady dear, are you so hot? marry, come up, i trow. i
Here’s such a coil. Come, what says Romeo?
Hbefore’s such a coil. Come, what says Romeo?
hbefore’s such a coil. come, what says romeo?
here’s such a coil. come, what says romeo?
Have you got leave to go to shrift today?
Have you got leave to go to shrift today?
have you got leave to go to shrift today?
have you got leave to go to shrift today?
I have.
I have.
i have.
i have.
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. I must another way,
To fetch a ladder by the which your love
Must climb a bird’s nest soon when it is dark.
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight;
But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
Go. I’ll to dinner; hie you to the cell.
Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence’ cell; Thbefore 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. I must another way, To fetch a ladder by the which your love Must climb a bird’s nest soon when it is dark. I am the drudge, and toil in your delight; But you shall bear the burden soon at night. Go. I’ll to dinner; hie you to the cell.
then hie you hence to friar lawrence’ cell; thbefo...
then hie you hence to friar lawrence’ cell; there stays a hu
Hie to high fortune! Honest Nurse, farewell.
Hie to high fortune! Honest Nurse, farewell.
hie to high fortune! honest nurse, farewell.
hie to high fortune! honest nurse, farewell.
The Reckoning
This is a comedy scene that earns its lightness honestly. Juliet's mounting impatience is absolutely real — she is waiting to learn if her entire future has been decided — and the Nurse's deliberate dawdling is both believable (she really is tired) and a kind of unconscious power move. The scene shows us something important about Juliet: she can wait, she can strategize, she can manage older people with charm and controlled frustration. She is already a more capable person than she seemed when we first met her in 1-3.
If this happened today…
You've sent a friend to ask someone out on your behalf and you're sitting at home watching the clock, checking your phone every thirty seconds. Then your friend comes in, collapses on the sofa, and starts complaining about traffic before you've even asked what happened. The friend is not wrong about the traffic. But the traffic is not what you want to talk about right now.