Come death, and welcome: Juliet wills it fo. Some fay, the lark and loathed toad change eyes; our woes. Nurfe. Madam, Jul. Nurfe? Enter Nurse. Nurfe. Your lady mother's coming to your chamber: O, by this count I fhall be much in years, Rom. Farewel: I will omit no opportunity, That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining foul. you: [Exit Romeo. Jul. Jul. Oh fortune, fortune, all men call thee fickle: If thou art fickle, what doft thou with him That is renown'd for faith? be fickle, fortune; For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, But fend him back. Enter Lady Capulet. La. Cap. Ho, daughter, are you up? Jul. Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother? Jul. Madam, I am not well. La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your coufin's death? What, wilt thou wath him from his grave with tears? An' if thou couldft, thou couldft not make him live; Therefore, have done. Some grief shews much of love; But much of grief fhews ftill fome want of wit. Jul. Yet let me weep for fuch a feeling lofs. La. Cap. So fhall you feel the lofs, but not the friend Which you do weep for. Jul. Feeling fo the lofs, I cannot chufe but ever weep the friend. La. Cap. Well, girl, thoù weep'ft not fo much for his death, As that the villain lives which iflaughter'd him. La. Cap. That fame villain, Romeo. Jul. Villain and he are many miles afunder. Jul. I, Madam, from the reach of these my hands:- And And then, I hope, thou will be fatisfy'd. -dead. To hear him nam'd, O, how my heart abhors -and cannot come to him To wreak the love I bore my flaughter'd coufin, La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find fuch a man. But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. ful. And joy comes well in fuch a needful time. What are they, I befeech your ladyfhip? 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. Now, by St. Peter's church, and Peter too, It fhall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, La. Cap. Here comes your father, tell him so yourself, And fee, how he will take it at your hands. Enter Capulet, and Nurfe. Cap. When the fun fets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the funfet of my brother's fon It It rains downright. How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? Thou counterfeit'ft a bark, a fea, a wind; Thy tempeft-toffed body-How now, wife? deliver'd to her our decree ? La. Cap. Ay, Sir; but fhe 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 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. 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 'gainft Thursday next, To go with Paris to Saint 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 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 answer me; My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us bleft, That That God hath fent us but this only child; 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, Cap. Peace, peace, you mumbling fool; La. Cap. You are too hot. Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad day, night, late, early, At home, abroad, alone, in company, Of fair demefns, youthful, and nobly-allied, [Exit. Or, |