Thy tempeft-toffed body Have you How now, wife? deliver'd to her our decree? [thanks : La. Cap. Ay, Sir; but he will none, fhe gives you 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 fhe not give us thanks? Is the not proud? doth fhe not count her bleft, Unworthy as fhe 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. Proud! and I thank you! and I thank you not! Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine joints 'gainft Thursday next, To go with Paris to St. Peter's church: Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. La. Cap. Fie, fie! what! are you mad? 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 anfwer me, My fingers itch. Wife, we fcarce thought us bleft, But now I fee this one is one too much, And that we have a curfe in having her: Out on her, hilding. Nurfe. God in heaven blefs her! You are to blame, my Lord, to rate her fo. Cap. And why, my lady wifdom? hold your tongue, Good prudence, fmatter with your goffips, go. Nurfe. I fpeak no treason May not one fpeak? O, god-ye-good-den Cap. Peace, peace, you mumbling fool; Utter your gravity o'er a goffip's bowl," For here we need it not. La. La. Cap. You are too hot. [early, Cap. God's bread, it makes me mad: day, night, late, 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 noble parentage, Of fair demeans, youthful, and nobly allied, A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, I am too young, I cannot love, [Exit. La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not fpeak a word: Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Exit. Jul. O God! O nurse, how fhall this be prevented? Alack, that heav'n fhould practise stratagems Upon fo foft a subject as my felf! Nurfe. Faith, here it is: Romeo is banifh'd; 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. VOL. VI. 7 Alack, alack, T Then Then fince the cafe fo ftands as now it doth, Or elfe befhrew them both! Jul. Amen. Nurfe. 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 Lawrence' cell, To make confeffion, and to be abfolved. Nurfe. Marry I will, and this is wifely done. Jul. Ancient damnation! O moft wicked fiend! Is it more fin to wish me thus forfworn, If all else fail, my felf have power to die. [Exit. [Exit. 8 Oh, he's 9 green, I here, 2 foul too, 3 What? ACT A C T IV. SCENE I. The Monaftery. Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris. FRIAR. ON Thursday, Sir! the time is very short. Ο Par. My father Capulet will have it fo, And I am nothing flow, to flack his hafte. Par. Immoderately fhe 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, Sir, here comes the Lady tow'rds my cell. Enter Juliet. Par. Welcome, my love, my lady and my wife! Fri. That's a certain text. Par. Come you to make confeffion to this father? T 2 Jul Jul. I will confefs to you that I love him. Par. So will ye, I am fure, that you love me. Jul. If I do fo, it will be of more price Being fpoke behind your back, than to your face. Par. Poor foul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Jul. The tears have got fmall victory by that: For it was bad enough before their spight. Par. Thou wrong'ft it, more than tears, with that Par. Thy face is mine, and thou haft flander'd it. Or fhall I come to you at evening mafs? Fri. My leifure ferves me, penfive daughter, now. My Lord, I muft intreat the time alone. Par. God fhield, I fhould disturb devotion! Juliet, farewel, and keep this holy kiss! [Exit Paris. Jul. Go fhut the door, and when thou haft done fo, Come weep with me, paft hope, paft cure, paft help. Fri. O Juliet, I already know your grief; I hear thou muft, and nothing may prorogue it, Jul. Tell me not, Friar, that thou hear'ft of this, If in thy wisdom thou canft give no help, God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; Or my true heart with treacherous revolt Could |