Imatges de pàgina


SCENE I.-Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter Friar LAURENCE and Paris. Fri. On Thursday, sir ? the time is very short.

Par. My father Capulet will have it so : And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste.

Fri. You say, you do not know the lady's mind; lineven is the 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 doth give her sorrow so much sway; And in his wisdom, hastes our marriage, To stop the inundation of her tears ; Whicli, too much minded by herself 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 slow'd.

[Aside. Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

Enter JULIET. Par. Happily met, 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, I should 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 you, 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 soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears.

Jul. The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough, before their spite. Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that

report. Jul. That is no slander, sir, which is a truth; And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it,

Jul. It may be so, 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, we must entreat the time alone.

Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion ! Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you : Till then, adieu! and keep this holy kiss. [Ex. Paris.

Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me : Past hope, past care, past help!

Fri. O Juliet, I already know thy grief';
It strains me past the compass of my wits :
I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this county.

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 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 seal’d,
Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both :
Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time,
Give me some present counsel ; or, behold,

"Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire; arbitrating that
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.

Fri. Hold, daughter; I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry county Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
Then is it likely, thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That cop'st with death himself to 'scape from it;
And, if thou dar'st, I 'll give thee remedy.

Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower,
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears ;
Or hide me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless skulls;.
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstaind wife to my sweet love.

Fri. Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris : Wednesday is to-morrow; To-morrow night look that thou lie alone, Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber : Take thou this phial, being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off: When, presently, through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour; for 10 pulse Shall keep his native progress, but surcease. No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st;

The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall,
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
Each part, depriv'd of supple government,
Shall stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death ;
And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt continue two-and-forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sle
Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead :
Then (as the manner of our country is,)
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier,
Be borne to burial in thy kindreds' grave,
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift;
And hither shall he come; and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame :
If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.

Jul. Give me, give me! O tell not me of fear.

Fri. Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosjerous In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. Jul. Love, give me strength! and strength sliall help

afford. Farewell, dear father!

[E.reunt. SCENE II.-A Room in Capulet's House. Enter Capuler, Lady CAPULET, Nurse, and Servants. Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ.

[Exit Servant Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks."

2 Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for I 'll try it they can lick their fingers.

Cap. How canst thou try them so ?

2 Serv. Marry, sir, 't is an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers : therefore he, that cannot lick his fingers, goes not with me. Cap. Go, begone.

[Exit Servant. We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time. What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence ?

Nurse. Ay, forsooth.

Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her: A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.


Nurse. See, where she comes from shrift with merry

look. Cap. How now, my headstrong? where have you

been gadding ?
Jul. Where I have learn’d me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition
To you, and your beliests; and am enjoin'd
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
To beg your pardon :-Pardon, I beseech you !
Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.

Cap. Send for the county; go tell him of this ;
I'll have this knot knit


to-morrow morning.
Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
And gave him what becomed a love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.

Cap. Why, I am glad on 't; this is well, -stand up:
This is as 't should be. Let me see the county ;
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him bither. -
Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar,
All our whole city is much bound to him.
Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,

a Becomed-becoming.

« AnteriorContinua »