Imatges de pàgina

Thy tempest-tossed body - How now, wife?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree? [thanks :

La. Cap. Ay, Sir; but she will none, she gives you I would the fool were married to her grave.

Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife. How will she none? doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, Unworthy as she 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 settle your fine joints ’gainst Thursday next, To go with Paris to

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 beseech 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 scarce thought us bleft,
That God had sent us but this only child,
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her :
Out on her, hilding.

Nurse. God in heaven bless her!
You are to blame, my Lord, to rate her so.

Cap. And why, my lady wisdom ? hold your congue, Good prudence, smatter with your gossips, go.

Nurse. I speak no treason O, god-ye-good-denMay not one speak?

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


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 Neeping, still 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 say with honourable parts, Proportion'd as one's thought would wish 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 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, starve, die i'th' streets ;
For, ' by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall ever do thee good:
Truft to't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn. [Exis.

Jul. Is there no picy sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?
O sweet my mother, cast 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.

La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word: Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Exit.

Jul. O God! O nurse, how shall this be prevented ? 7. Alack,' that heav'n should practise stratagems Upon so soft a subject as my self!

Nurse. Faith, here it is :
Romeo is banish'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.


Then 7 Alack, alack,


Then since the case fo stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the Count.
87Oh, 'faith, he is a lovely gentleman.
Romeo's a dish-clout to him; an eagle, Madam,
Hath not fo 'keen,' so quick, fo fair an eye
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you happy in this second match,
For it excels your first; or if it did not,
Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were,
As living ''hence,' and you no use of him.

Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?

Nurse. And from my soul,
Or else beshrew them both!

Jul. Amen.
Nurse. 3/To what?"

Jul. Well, thou haft comforted me marvellous much ;
Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone,
Having displeas'd my father, to Lawrence' cell,
To make confeffion, and to be absolved.
Nurse. Marry I will, and this is wisely done.

Jul. Ancient damnation ! O most wicked fiend !
Is it more fin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue
Which she hath prais'd him with above compare,
So many thousand times? go, counsellor,
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain :
I'll to the Friar to know his remedy.
If all elle fail, my self have power to die. [Exit.

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The Monastery.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris.


ON Thursday, Sir! the time is


Par. My father Capulet will have it so,
And I am nothing Now, to Nack his hafte.
Fri. You say you do not know the Lady's mind :
Uneven is this course, I like it not.

Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love,
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, Sir, her father counts it dangerous
That she should give her sorrow so much sway;
And, in his wisdom, haftes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by her self alone,
May be put from her by society.
Now do you know the reason of this haste.

Fri. I would I knew not why it should be now'd. [Aside. 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, must be, love, on Thursday next: Jul. What must be, shall be. Fri. That's a certain text. Par. Come you to make confession to this father ? Jul. To answer that were to confess to you. Par. Do not deny to him that you love me.



Jul. I will confess to you that I love him.
Par. So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.

Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

Par. Poor foul, thy face is much abus'd with tears.

Jul. The tears have got small victory by that: For it was bad enough before their spight.

Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.

Jul. That is no Nander, Sir, which is but truth, And what I speak, I speak it to my face.

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou haft Nander'd it.

Jul. It may be fo, for it is not mine own.
Are you at leisure, holy father, now,
Or shall I come to you at evening mass ?

Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. My Lord, I must intreat the time alone.

Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion! Juliet, farewel, and keep this holy kiss! Exit Paris.

Jul. Go shut the door, and when thou hast done fo, Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past 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’st of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.
If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with this knifé I'll help it presently.
God join’d my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands ;
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall nay them both :
Therefore out of thy long experienc'd time,
Give me some present counsel, or behold
'Twixt my extreams and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire ; arbitrating that,
Which the commission of thy years and art


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