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? 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, 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 Of fair demefnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, To To answer-I'll not wed,-I cannot love, Graze where you will, you shall not house with me; Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: An you be mine, I'll give you to my [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? What fay'ft thou? haft thou not a word of joy? Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo Is banished; and all the world to nothing, Then, fince the case so stands as now it doth, O, he's O, he's a lovely gentleman! Romeo's a difhclout to him; an eagle, madam, Jul. Speakeft thou from thy heart? 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 [Exit. ACT ACT IV. SCENE I. Friar Laurence's Cell. Enter Friar LAURENCE and PARIS. Fri. On thursday, fir? the time is very short. And I am nothing flow to flack bis haste. Fri. You fay, you do not know the lady's mind; Par. Immoderately the weeps for Tybalt's death, 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! Par. That may be, must be, love, on thursday next. Fri. That's a certain text. Par. Come you to make confeffion to this father? Par. |