To stop the inundation of her tears; Which, too much minded by herself alone, Now do you know the reason of this haste. Fri. [Aside.] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. Enter JULIET. Par. Happily met, my lady, and my 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? 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! [Exit PARIS. Jul. O, shut the door; and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! Fri. Ah, Juliet! I already know thy grief; It strains me past the compass of my wits: I hear thou must, and nothing must 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, God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; 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. Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, A thing like death to chide away this shame, Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. Fri. Hold, then go home, be merry, give con sent 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: To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier, Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault, Abate thy valour in the acting it. Jul. Give me, give me! O, tell me not of fear. Fri. Hold; get you gone: be strong and pros perous 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 shall help afford. Farewell, dear father. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Room in CAPULET'S House. Enter CAPULET, 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'H try if they can lick their fingers. Cap. How canst thou try them so? 2 Serv. Marry, sir, 'tis 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? Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. Enter JULIET. 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 behests; and am enjoin'd By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, Cap. Send for the County: go tell him of this. I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell; And gave him what becomed 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 hither. Now, afore God, this rev'rend holy friar, All our whole city is much bound to him. |