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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 bless’d, 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.
Сар. .

0, God ye good den!
Nurse. May not one speak?

Peace, you mumbling fool! Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl, For here we need it not.

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 princely parentage,
Of fair dimesnes, 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 answer-I'll not wedI 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 jest.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:
Ar. you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;

La. Cap.

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hilding !] i.e. A base, low, menial wretch ; derived by some from hind. erling, a Devonshire word signifying degenerate.-NARES.

An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i'the streets,
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never 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?
0, 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!-0 nurse! how shall this be prevented ?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
How shall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth?-Comfort me, counsel me.
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself !-
What say’st thou? hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, 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, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the county."
O, he's a lovely gentleman!
Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye,
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first: 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. Speakest thou from thy heart?

I think it best you married with the county.] The character of the nurse exhibits a just picture of those whose actions have no principles for their foundation. She has been unfaithful to the trust reposed in her by Capulet, and is ready to embrace any expedient that offers, to avert the consequences of her first infidelity.-STEEVENS.


From my soul too;
Or else beshrew them both.


To what? Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in; and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, To make confession, and to be absolv'd.

Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [Erit.

Jul. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
Is it more sin—to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath prais’d him with above compare
So many thousand times?-Go, counsellor;
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.-
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy;
If all else fail, myself have power to die.



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;
Uneven 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 ;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society ;
Now do you know the reason of this haste.

And I am nothing slow, &c.] His haste shall not be abated by my slow ness.JOHNSON.

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

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


love me.

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.

That's a certain text.
Par. Come you to make confession to this father?
Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you.
Par. Do not deny to him, that you lov me.
Jul. I will confess to you, that I love him.
Par. So will

I am sure, that

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

Jul. That is no slander, sir, that 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


be for it is not mine at leisure, holy father, now; Or shall I come to you at evening mass ?p

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.

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

Fri. Ab, Juliet, I already know thy grief; p Or shall I come to you at evening mass ?) Juliet means vespers. There is no such thing as evening mass. “Masses (as Tynes Moryson observes) are only sung in the morning and when the priests are fasting.”-Ritson.

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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,
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;

9 Shall be the label to another deed,] The seals of deeds in our author's time were not impressed on the parchment itself on which the deed was written; but were appended on distinct slips or labels affixed to the deed.-Malone.

this bloody knife Shall play the umpire ;) i. e. Shall decide the struggle between me and my distresses.--" Daggers, or as they were more commonly called, knives, were worn at all times by every woman in England; whether they were so in Italy, Shakspeare, I believe, never enquired, and I cannot tell. In the haft of this universal appendage (for men also wore them) there was of course much variety."Gifford's Ben Jonson, vol. v. 221.

commission--] i. e. Authority or power:-Jounson.

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