Imatges de pàgina

O now be gone, more light and light it grows.

Rom. More light and light?—More dark and dark

Our woes.

Enter Nurse.
Nurse. Madam,
Jul. Nurse ?

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

[Exit Nurse. Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewel, farewel; one kiss, and I'll defcend.

[Romeo defcends. Jul. Art thou gone so? 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 I 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 hall ever meet again?

Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve (25.) 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-light fails, or thou look'st pale.
Rom. And trust me, love, in mine eye so 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.


And all these woes small serzie For Srveet discourses in our time to come] This very tħought is express'd by Virgil on a like occasion; Forfan & bæc olim meminise juvabit.

Æneid. I. v. 203; The learned Taubman, in his note on this passage, has aniass'd several familar quotations.


Enter Lady Capulet.
La. Cap. Ho, daughter, are you up?
Jul. Who is't that calls ? is it my lady mother ?
What unaccuftom'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 wash him from his grave with tears?
An' if thou could'st, thou could’ft not make him live;
Therefore, have done, Some grief shews much of love;
But much of grief shews still some want of wit.

Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
La, Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend


for. Jul, Feeling so the loss, I cannot chusę but ever weep the friend. [death,

La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his As that the villain lives which flaughter'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. 1, Madam, from the reach of these


hands is Would, none but I might venge my cousin's death!

La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not: Then weep

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 soon keep Tybalt company,
And then, I hope, thou wilt be fatisfy'd.

Jul. Indeed, I never fhall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him -dead
Is my poor heart fo 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. -0, how my heart abhors


no more.

To hear him nam'd, and cannot come to him-
To wreak the love l bore my slaughter'd cousin,
Upon his body that hath slaughter'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 sorted out a sudden day of joy, That thou expectft 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 halte, 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 so yourself

, And see, how he will take it at your

hands. Enter Capulet, and Nurse. Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brother's son It rains downright. How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears ? Evermore show'ring? in one little body Thou counterfeitft a bark, a sea, a wind; For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, Do ebb and now with tears ; the bark thy body is, Sailing in this falt flood : 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?




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 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 you

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-sickness-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 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 tongue, Good Prudence, smatter with your gossips, go.

Nurse. I speak no treason-Ó, god-ye-good-denMay 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,
At home, abroad, alone, in company,
Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been
To have her match'd ; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,
Of fair demesns, youthful, and nobly allied,
Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts,
Proportiond 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 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, ftarve, die i'th' ftreets;
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall ever do thee good :
Trust to't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn. [Exit.

Jul. Is there no pity 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! Nurse, how shall this be prevented ? My husband is on earth, my faith in heav'n; How shall that faith return again to earth, Unless that husband send it me from heav'n, By leaving earth ? Comfort me, counsel me. Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems Upon so soft a subject as myself! What fay'st thou hast thou not a word of joy? Some comfort, nurse,


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