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Thy tempeft-toffed body

Have you

How now, wife?

deliver'd to her our decree?

[thanks : La. Cap. Ay, Sir; but he will none, fhe gives you 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 the not proud? doth fhe not count her bleft, Unworthy as fhe is, that we have wrought

So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

Jul. 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. Proud! and I thank you! and I thank you not! Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine joints 'gainft Thursday next, To go with Paris to St. Peter's church:

Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

La. Cap. Fie, fie! what! are you mad?
Jul. Good father, I befeech you on my knees,
Hear me with patience, but to fpeak a word.

Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! difobedient 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 anfwer me,

My fingers itch. Wife, we fcarce thought us bleft,
That God had 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 treason

May not one fpeak?

O, god-ye-good-den

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.

[early,

Cap. God's bread, it makes me mad: day, night, late,

At home, abroad, alone, in company,

Waking or fleeping, ftill my care hath been

To have her match'd; and having now provided

A gentleman of noble parentage,

Of fair demeans, 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 am too young,

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I cannot love,
I pray you, pardon me
But, if you will not wed, I'll pardon you:
Graze where you will, you fhall not house with me:
Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.
Thursday 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 forfworn.
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 dim monument where Tybalt lies.

[Exit.

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! O nurse, how fhall this be prevented? Alack, that heav'n fhould practise stratagems

Upon fo foft a subject as my felf!

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.

VOL. VI.

7 Alack, alack,

T

Then

Then fince the cafe fo ftands as now it doth,
I think it beft you married with the Count.
/Oh, 'faith, he is 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 second match,
For it excels your firft; or if it did not,
Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were,
As living hence, and you no ufe of him.
Jul. Speakeft thou from thy heart?
Nurfe. And from my foul,`

Or elfe befhrew them both!

Jul. Amen.

Nurfe. To what?`

Jul. Well, thou haft 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 abfolved.

Nurfe. Marry I will, and this is wifely done.

Jul. Ancient damnation! O moft wicked fiend!

Is it more fin to wish me thus forfworn,
Or to difpraise my Lord with that fame tongue
Which the hath prais'd him with above compare,
So many thousand times? go, counsellor,
Thou and my bofom henceforth fhall be twain:
I'll to the Friar to know his remedy.

If all else fail, my felf have power to die.

[Exit.

[Exit.

8 Oh, he's

9 green, I here,

2 foul too,

3 What?

ACT

A C T IV.
ACT

SCENE I.

The Monaftery.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris.

FRIAR.

ON Thursday, Sir! the time is very short.

Ο

Par. My father Capulet will have it fo,

And I am nothing flow, to flack his hafte.
Fri. You fay you do not know the Lady's mind:
Uneven is this courfe, I like it not.

Par. Immoderately fhe weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love,
For Venus fmiles not in a house of tears.
Now, Sir, her father counts it dangerous
That she should give her forrow so much sway;
And, in his wifdom, haftes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by her felf alone,
May be put from her by fociety.

Now do you know the reason of this hafte.

Fri. I would I knew not why it should be flow'd. [Afide.

Look, Sir, here comes the Lady tow'rds my cell.

Enter Juliet.

Par. Welcome, my love, my lady and my wife!
Jul. That may be, Sir, when I may be a wife.
Par. That may be, muft be, love, on Thursday next:
Jul. What must be, fhall be.

Fri. That's a certain text.

Par. Come you to make confeffion to this father?
Jul. To answer that were to confefs to you.
Par. Do not deny to him that you love me.

T 2

Jul

Jul. I will confefs to you that I love him. Par. So will ye, I am fure, that you love me. Jul. If I do fo, it will be of more price Being fpoke behind your back, than to your face. Par. Poor foul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Jul. The tears have got fmall victory by that: For it was bad enough before their spight.

Par. Thou wrong'ft it, more than tears, with that
report.
Jul. That is no flander, Sir, which is but truth,
And what I fpeak, I fpeak it to my face.

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou haft flander'd it.
Jul. It may be fo, for it is not mine own.
Are you at leifure, holy father, now,

Or fhall I come to you at evening mafs?

Fri. My leifure ferves me, penfive daughter, now. My Lord, I muft intreat the time alone. Par. God fhield, I fhould disturb devotion! Juliet, farewel, and keep this holy kiss!

[Exit Paris. Jul. Go fhut the door, and when thou haft done fo, Come weep with me, paft hope, paft cure, paft help. Fri. O Juliet, I already know your grief;

I hear thou muft, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this Count.

Jul. Tell me not, Friar, that thou hear'ft of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.

If in thy wisdom thou canft give no help,
Do thou but call my refolution wife,
And with this knife I'll help it presently.

God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo feal'd,
Shall be the label to another deed,

Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this fhall flay them both:
Therefore out of thy long experienc'd time,
Give me fome prefent counfel, or behold
'Twixt my extreams and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire; arbitrating that,
Which the commiffion of thy years and art

Could

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