The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse;
In half an hour she promis?d 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 glide than the sun?s beams,
Driving back shadows over low'ring 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.
[Enter NURSE, with PETER]
O God, she comes! O honey nurse, what news?
Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.
(Juliet, "Romeo and Juliet," Act 2, Scene 5, lines 1-19)