Imatges de pÓgina

Come death, and welcome: Juliet wills it so.
How ist, my Soul? let's talk, it is not day.

Jul. It is, it is; hie hence, be gone, away:
It is the lark that fings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
Some say, the lark makes sweet divifion;
This doth not so: for she divideth us.
Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes ;

now I would they had chang'd voices too!
O now he gone, more light and light it grows.

Rom. More light and light?-More dark and dark

our woes,

Enter Nurfe. Nurje. Madam, . Jul. Nurse?

Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your chamber : The day is broke, be wary, look about. [Exit Nurse.

Ful. Then, window, let day in, and let life out.
Rom. Farewel, farewel; one kiss, and I'll descend.

[Romeo defcends.
Jul Art thou gone for love ! Lord! ah husband! friend!
I must hear from thee ev'ry day in th' hour,
For in a minute there are many days.
O, by this count shall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewel: I will omit no opportunity, That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

Jul. O think’lt thou, we shall ever meet again?

Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses, in our time to come.

Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining foul.
Methinks, I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
Either my eye-fight fails, or thou look'it pale.

Rom. And trust me, love, in mine eye fo do you:
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu.

[Exit Romeo.


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 send him back.

Enter Lady Capulet.

La. Cap. Ho, daughter, are you up?

Jul. Who is't that calls ? is it my lady mother? What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither ?

La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet? Jul. Madam, I am not well. La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? What, wilt thou wath him from his grave with tears ? An’if thou couldīt, thou couldft not make him live ; Therefore, have done. Some grief Mews much of love ; But much of grief fews still some want of wit.

Jul. Yet let me weep for fuch a feeling loss. La. Cap. So fall you feel the loss, but not the friend Which you do weep for.

Jul. Feeling so the loss, I cannot chuse but ever weep the friend. La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'ft not so much for

his death,
As that the villain lives which islaughter'd him.

Jul. What villain, Madam?
La. Cap. That same villain, Romeo.

Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder.
God pardon him ! I do, with all my heart :
And, yet, no man like he doth grieve my heart.

La. Cap. That is, because the traitor lives.
Jul. J, Madam, from the reach of these my hands:
Would, none but I might venge my cousin's death!

La.Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not: Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua, Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram, That he shall foon keep Tybalt company.


And then, I hope, thou will be satisfy'd.

Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him -dead.
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vext?
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it;
That Romeo should upon receipt thereof
Soon sleep in quiet. --O, how my heart abhors
To hear him nam'd, and cannot come to him
To wreak the love I bore my flaughter'd cousin,
Upon his body that hath flaughter'd him.

La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man. But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

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

La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child: One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness, Hath forted out a sudden 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, early 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 shall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this hafte, that I must wed
Ere he, that must be husband, comes to wooe.
I pray you, tell my Lord and father, Madam,
I will not marry yet : and when I do,
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris. -These are news, indeed !

La. Cap. Here comes your father, tell him fo yourself, And see, how he will take it at your hands.

Enter Capulet, and Nur;e.

Cap. When ihe sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sun et of my brother's so.1

It rains downright.-
How now ? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
Evermore show'ring? in one little body
Thou counterfeit'ít a bark, a fea, a wind;
For still thy eyes, which I may call the fea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this falt food : the winds thy fighs,
Which, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a sudden calm, will overset
Thy tempeft-toffed body-How now, wife?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree ?
La. Cap. Ay, Sir; but she will none, she 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 she none? doth she not give us thanks ? Is she not proud, doth she not count her bleft, 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. How now! how now! Chop logick? What is this? Proud! and I thank you! and I thank


not ! And yet not proud !-- Why, mistress minion, you, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But settle your fine joints 'gainst 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 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 blest,


That God hath 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 tongue, Good prudence, smátter with your gossips, go.

Nurse. I speak no treason-o, god-ye-good-den-
May not one speak?

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

La. Cap. You are too hot.
Cap. God's bread ! it makes me mad : day, night,

late, early,
At home, abroad, alone, in company,
Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been
To have her matchd ; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,
Of fair demesns, 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

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, ftarve, 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. [Exit.

Jul. Is there no pity fitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?.
0, sweet my mother, cait me nci away,
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;


will, you

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