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Jul. Oh, think'st thou we shall ever meet again ?

Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.

Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining soul :
Methinks, I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
Either my eye-sight fails, or thou look’st pale.

Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you
Dry sorrow drinks our blood.-Adieu! adieu!

Jul. O Fortune, Fortune! all men call thee fickle:
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, Fortune;
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back!


Romeo, in his exile, has only to sigh for their reunion. But


Juliet a severer trial comes immediately. We have traced already that fearless outpouring of her heart to her lover-simply forgetful of parental authority--which contrasts so effectively with the sentiment of habitually quiet deference

But no more deep will I endart mine eye

Than your consent gives strength to make it flywhich falls from the gentle girl, a stranger yet to passion, on her first appearance in the piece. have now to mark the new-born spirit of the youthful wife taking full possession of Juliet's bosom, and finding new strength with each accumulation of external pressure, to resist the unfeeling imposition upon her, persevered in by her parents, of a husband whom her heart had rejected from the first. In the scene with her mother upon this subject, which instantly follows Romeo's departure—the first in which Lady Capulet and her daughter come together after Juliet's



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first meeting with Romeo—we feel the no longer passive daughter, but the conscious wife, in the tone of the very first words that fall from Juliet's lips :

Lady Cap. (within). Ho, daughter! are you up?

Jul. Who is't that calls ? is it my lady mother?
Is she not down so late, or up so early?
What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?

Lady Cap. (entering). Why, how now, Juliet ?

Jul. Madam, I am not well, &c. Still, the demand, in the first place, is only upon her power of dissembling her grief for Romeo's departure under the guise of lamentation for Tybalts death-ending in her securing from her lady mother the permission, so very important to Romeo's safety, of tempering with her own hands the poison which Lady Capulet assures her, she will procure to be administered to “that same banish'd runagate," so that “ he shall soon keep Tybalt company." But her mother's immediate announcement of the “sudden day of joy” which her father has appointed for her, arouses for the first time all the indignant wife within her bosom, though masked, in her words, under the show of simply maiden disinclination to the proposed suitor :

Lady Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The county Paris, at Saint Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride!

Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride!
I wonder at this haste—that I must wed
Ere he, that should be husband, come to woo.

pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear,
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris. These are news indeed !

Lady Cup. Here comes your father-tell him so yourself, And see how he will take it at your hands. The following scene with her father demands the most careful attention, in order to judge with perfect justice of Juliet's conduct throughout. We shall see that his arbitrary violence of language is not called


forth by any open flying in the face of paternal authority on the part of his daughter. She simply and respectfully alleges her dislike to the man who is so peremptorily proposed to her for a husband. Her father had said to Paris at the outset:

Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart;
My will to her consent is but a part;
An she agree, within her scope of choice

Lies my consent and fair according voice. And on the evening of the following day, after Tybalt's death, he tells the count:-

Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our daughter:

she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, .
And so did I. -Well, we were born to die !

late—she'll not come down to-night ;-
I promise you, but for your company,

I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
The county replies, addressing Lady Capulet-

These times of woe afford no time to woo :

Madam, good night-commend me to your daughter. And her ladyship rejoins

I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;

To-night she's mew'd up to her heayiness. Up to this point, then, it appears that Juliet was to have had a mind of her own in the business. But all at once, old Capulet, finding, it should seem, this mourning matter very uncomfortable, resolves to have a wedding at all events, to make him cheerful; and so, at the very moment that the count is taking his leave, he declares to him, without further ceremony :

Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my child's love : I think, she will be ruld
In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;

And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-
But, soft—what day is this?

Monday, my lord.
Cap. Monday? ha, ha!- Well, Wednesday is too soon.-
O'Thursday let it be.-O'Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl.

you be ready? do you like this haste ?
We'll keep no great ado;—a friend or two;-
For, look you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much :
Therefore we'll have some half-a-dozen friends,
And there an end.- -But what say you to Thursday ?

Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.

Cap. Well, get you gone.-O'Thursday be it, then.
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed;
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. —
Farewell, my lord. -Light to my chamber, ho!
Afore me, it is so very late, that we

May call it early by-and-by.--Good night. Instead of going quietly to bed, however, this considerate father, we see, takes it into his head to follow his lady into Juliet's chamber, in order to aid in that preparation of his daughter's mind, of which we have already quoted the unceremonious commencement. His own description of the weeping state in which he finds her

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How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears ? &c.brings out in stronger relief the selfish, wilful, and tyrannical cold-heartedness of his following

speeches :

How now, wife ?

deliver'd to her our decree?
Lady Cåp. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you

I would the fool were married to her grave!

Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife:
How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks ?
Is she not proud? Doth she not count her bless'd,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

Jul. Not proud, you 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 settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to Saint Peter's church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.-
Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage !
You tallow-face!

Lady Cap. (to Juliet). Fye, fye!—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! 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 !

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.

Oh, Gud 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.
Lady Cap.

You are too hot.
Çap. 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 demesnes, 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 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 jest:
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise :

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