La. Cap. We will have Vengeance for it, fear thou

not.

Then weep no more.

I'll fend to one in Mantua,
Where that fame banifh'd Runagate doth live,
Shall give him fuch an unaccustom'd Dram,
That he fhall foon keep Tybalt Company.
And then, I hope, thou wilt be fatisfy'd.
Jul. Indeed, I never fhall be fatisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him, dead-
Is my poor heart fo for a Kinsman vext?
Madam, if you could find out but a Man
To bear a poison, I would temper it;
That Romeo fhould upon Receipt thereof
Soon fleep in Quiet.-O, how my heart abhors
To hear him nam'd,-and cannot come to him-
To wreak the Love I bore my Cousin,
Upon his body that hath flaughter'd him.

La. Cap. Find thou the Means, and I'll find fuch a
Man.

But now I'll tell thee joyful Tidings, Girl.

Jul. And joy comes well in fuch a needful time. What are they, I befeech your ladyship?

La. Cap. Well, well, thou haft a careful father,
child,

One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath forted out a fudden day of joy,

That thou expect'ft not, nor I look'd not for.
Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is this?
La. Cap. Marry, my child, carly next Thursday morn,
The gallant, young and noble gentleman,
The County Paris, at St. Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee a joyful bride.

Jul. Now, by St. Peter's church, and Peter too He fhall not make me there a joyful bride.

I wonder at this hafte, that I muft wed

Ere he, that must be hufband, comes to wooe.
I pray you, tell my Lord and father, Madam,
I will not marry yet: and when I do,

It fhall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris.- -These are news, indeed!
La. Cap. Here comes your father, tell him so your
felf,

And fee, how he will take it at your hands,

Enter Capulet, and Nurse.

Cap. When the Sun fets, the Air dath drizzle Dew;

But for the Sunset of my Brother's Son

It rains downright.

How now? a conduit, girl? what, ftill in tears?
Evermore show'ring? in one little body

Thou counterfeit'ft a bark, a fea, a wind;
For ftill thy eyes, which I may call the fea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this falt flood; the winds thy fighs,
Which, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a fudden calm will overfet

Thy tempeft-toffed body-How now, wife?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

La. Cap. Ay, Sir; but he will none, fhe gives
you thanks.

I would, the fool were married to her Grave!
Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you,

wife.

How, will the none? Doth fhe not give us thanks?
Is fhe not proud, doth fhe not count her bleft,
Unworthy as he is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

Jul.

ul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have.

Proud can I never be of what I hate,

But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.
Cap. How now! how now! Chop Logick? What
is This?

Proud! and I thank you! and I thank you not!
And yet not proud!-Why, Miftrefs Minion, You,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to St. Peter's church:
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

Out, you green-fickness carrion! Out, you baggage!
You Tallow-face!

La. Cap. Fy, fy, what, are you mad?

Jul. Good father, I befeech you on my knees, Hear me with patience, but to speak a word. Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient

wretch !

I tell thee what, get thee to church o' Thursday,
Or never after look me in the face.

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me.

My fingers itch. Wife, we fcarce thought us bleft,
That God hath fent us but this only child;
But now I fee this One is one too much,
And that we have a Curfe in having her:
Out on her, hilding!

Nurfe. God in heaven blefs her!

You are to blame, my Lord, to rate her fo.

Cap. And why? my lady Wifdom hold your

tongue,

Good Prudence, fmatter with your goffips, go. Nurfe. I fpeak no treafon-O, god-ye-good-den

May not one speak?

Cap. Peace, peace, you mumbling fool Utter your gravity o'er a goffip's bowl, For here we need it not.

;

La.

La. Cap. You are too hot.

Cap. It makes me mad: day, night, hour, tide, work, play,

Alone, in company, ftill my care hath been,
To have her match'd; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,

f

Of fair demefns, youthful, and nobly-allied,
Stuff'd, as they fay, with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's thought would with a man:
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortune's Tender,
To answer, I'll not wed,I cannot love,-
I am too young,I pray you, pardon me.
But, if you' will not wed, I'll pardon you:
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me;
Look to't, think on't, I do not ufe to jeft.
Thurfday is near; lay hand on heart, advise;

If

you be mine, I'll give you to my friend:

If you be not, hang, beg, ftarve, die i' th' ftreets;
For, by my foul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine fhall ever do thee good.
Truft to't, bethink you, I'll not be forlworn. [Exit.
Jul. Is there no pity fitting in the clouds,
That fees into the bottom of my grief?
O, fweet my mother, caft me not away,
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed
In that dun monument where Tybalt lies.

La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not fpeak a word:

Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Exit. Jul. O God!-0 Nurfe, how fhall this be pre

vented?

My Hufband is on Earth; my Faith in Heav'n;
How fhall that Faith return again to Earth,
Unless that Hufband fend it me from Heav'n,
By leaving Earth Comfort me, counfel me.

Alack,

Alack, alack, that heav'n fhould practise stratagems, Upon fo foft a fubject as myfelf!

What fay't thou? haft thou not a word of Joy? Some Comfort, Nurfe.

Nurfe. Faith, here it is:

Romeo is banifh'd; all the world to nothing,
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.

Then fince the cafe fo ftands, as now it doth.
I think it beft, you married with the Count.
Oh, he's a lovely gentleman!

Romeo's a difh-clout to him; an eagle, Madam,
Hath not fo keen, fo quick, fo fair an eye
As Paris hath. Befhrew my very heart,
I think you happy in this fecond match,
For it excels your firft; or if it did not,
Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
7 As living here, and you no use of him.
Jul. Speak't thou from thy heart?
Nurfe. And from my Soul too,

Or elfe befhrew them both,

ful. Amin.

Nurfe. What?

1

Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much;

Go in, and tell my lady I am gone,

Having difpleas'd my father, to Lawrence' cell,
To make confeffion, and to be absolv❜d.

Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wifely done.

[Exit. Jul. Ancient Damnation ! O most wicked Fiend! Is it more fin to wish me thus forfworn,

-fo keen,] Hanmer. In the other editions, fo green.

7 As living here,] Sir T. Hanmer reads, as living hence; that

is at a diftance, in banishment, but here may fignify, in this world.

Or