Enter CAPULET and Nurse,

Cap. When the fun fets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brother's fon,

It rains downright.—

How now? a conduit, girl? what, ftill in tears?
Evermore showering? In one little body
Thou counterfeit ft a bark, a fea, a wind:
For ftill thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this falt flood; the winds, thy fighs;
Who,-raging with thy tears, and they with them,-
Without a fudden calm, will overfet

Thy tempeft-toffed body,-How now, wife?

Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

La. Cap. Ay, fir; but fhe will none, the 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 the not give us thanks ? Is the not proud? doth she not count her blefs'd, 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 ;-Mistress minion, you, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine joints 'gainst thursday next, To go with Paris to faint Peter's church,

Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

Out, you green-fickness carrion! out, you baggage!

You tallow face!

F 4

La. Cap.

La. Cap.

Fie, fie! 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! 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 bless'd,
That God had fent us but this only child;
But now I fee this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her:
Out on her, hilding!

Nurfe.

God in heaven bless her!

You are to blame, my lord, to rate her fo.

Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go,

Nurfe. I fpeak no treason.

Cap.

Nurse. May not one speak?

Cap.

O, God ye good den !

Peace, you mumbling fool!

Utter your gravity o'er a goffip'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 fleeping, ftill my care hath been
To have her match'd: and having now provided
A gentleman of princely parentage,

Of fair demefnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
Stuff'd (as they say,) with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's heart could wish a man,—
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,

To

To answer-I'll not wed,-I cannot love,
I am too young-I pray you, pardon me ;—
But, an 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 jeft.

Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:

An you be mine, I'll give you to my
friend;
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i' the streets,
For, by my fou!, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine fhall never do thee good :
Truft to't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn.

[Exit.

Jul. Is there no pity fitting in the clouds, That fees into the bottom of my grief? O, sweet my mother, caft 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!-O nurse! how shall this be prevented?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
How fhall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth ?-comfort me, counfel me.- ·
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself !—

What fay'ft thou? haft thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse.

Nurse.

'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo

Is banished; and all the world to nothing,
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.

Then, fince the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it beft you married with the county.

O, he's

O, he's a lovely gentleman!

Romeo's a difhclout to him; an eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, fo quick, fo fair an eye,
As Paris hath. Befhrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this fecond match,
For it excels your firft: or if it did not,
Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
As living here and you no use of him.

Jul. Speakeft thou from thy heart?
Nurse.

Or elfe befhrew them both.

Jul.

Nurse.

From

my

foul too;

Amen!

To what?

Jul. Well, thou haft comforted me marvellous much. Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,

Having difpleas'd my father, to Laurence' cell,

To make confeffion, and to be abfolv'd.

Nurfe. Marry, I will; and this is wifely done. [Exit,

ful. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!

Is it more fin-to with me thus forfworn,

Or to difpraise my lord with that fame tongue
Which the hath prais'd him with above compare
So many thousand times?-Go, counsellor;
Thou and my bofom henceforth fhall be twain.-
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy;
If all elfe fail, myself have power to die.

[Exit.

ACT

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter Friar LAURENCE and PARIS.

Fri. On thursday, fir? the time is very short.
Par. My father Capulet will have it fo;

And I am nothing flow to flack bis haste.

Fri. You fay, you do not know the lady's mind;
Uneven is the course, I like it not.

Par. Immoderately the weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
For Venus fmiles not in a house of tears.
Now, fir, her father counts it dangerous,
That she doth give her forrow fo much sway;
And, in his wisdom, haftes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be
put from her by fociety:

Now do you know the reason of this hafte.

Fri. I would I knew not why it should be flow'd.

[Afide

Look, fir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

Enter JULIET.

Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife!
Jul. That may be, fir, 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 confeffion to this father?
Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you.

Par.