2l8 
SHAKESPEARE’S GARDEN 
Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, 
The day to cheer and night’s dank dew to dry, 
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours 
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers 
The earth that’s nature’s mother is her tomb. 
II. iii. 5. 
Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. 
Rom. Pink for flower. 
Mer. Right. 
Rom. Why, then, is my pump well flowered. 
Mer. 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. 
II. iv. 61. 
Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting: it is a most sharp 
sauce. 
Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose ? 
II. iv. 83. 
Nurse. . . . Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both 
with a letter ? 
Rom. Ay, nurse : what of that ? both with an R. 
Nurse . Ah, mocker ! that’s the dog’s name ; R is for the- 
No ; I know it begins with some other letter :—and she hath 
the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it 
would do you good to hear it. 
II. iv. 219. 
Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no 
other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. 
III. i. 20. 
I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. 
III. i. 102. 
Jul. Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet near day : 
It was the nightingale, and not the lark, 
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear ; 
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree: 
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. 
III. v. 1. 
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade 
To paly ashes, thy eyes’ windows fall, 
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life. 
IV. i. 99. 
