:

Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,-
That shall bestow on him so sure a draught,
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.
Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him—dead—
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd:-
Madam, if you could but find out a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it;
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet.-O, how my heart abhors
To hear him nam'd,-and cannot come to him,-
To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt
Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him!

La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.

But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time:

What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;

One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,
That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for.
Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thurs-
day 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, comes to woo.
I 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!
La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him
so yourself,

And see how he will take it at your hands.

Enter CAPULET and Nurse.

Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle

dew;

But for the sunset of my brother's son,
It rains downright.—

How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
Evermore showering? in one little body
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind:
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
Who, raging with thy tears, and they with
them,-

Without a sudden calm, will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body.-How now, wife?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she 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 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 have; but thankful, that
you have:

Proud can I never be of what I hate;
But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.
Cup. 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 bag-
gage!

You tallow-face!

La. Cap. 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!

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.

Cap. O, God ye good den!
Nurse. May not one speak?
Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool!

Utter your gravity o'er a gossip'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 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,
Froportion'd as one's heart could wish a man,-
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining manmet, 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: 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 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? O, 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 strata

gems

Upon so soft a subject as myself!—

| 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?
Nurse. From my soul too;

Or else beshrew them both.

Some comfort, nurse.

Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis: Romeo

Is banished; and all the world to nothing,

I'll to the friar, to know his remedy;
If all else fail, myself have power to die.

[Erit.

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.
Fri. I would I knew not why it should be
slow'd.
Aside.
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

Enter JULIET.

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 Thurs-
day next.

Jul. What must be shall be.
Fri. 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 love me. Jul. I will confess to you, that I love him. Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me. 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

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.

Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own.Are you at leisure, holy father, now; Or shall I come to you at evening mass? 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. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
It strains me past the compass of my wits:
I hear thou must, and nothing may 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;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk,
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring
bears;

Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er cover'd quite with dead men's rattling
bones,

With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless sculls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
Things that, to hear them told, have made me
tremble;

And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.

Fri. Hold, then; go home, be merry, give

consent

To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow;
To-morrow night look that thou lie alone,
Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:
Take thou this phial, being then in bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off:
When, presently, through all thy veins shall

run

A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize
Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep
His natural progress, but surcease to beat:
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall,
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
Each part, depriv'd of supple government,
Shall stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death:
And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now when the bridegroom in the morning

comes

To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:

Then (as the manner of our country is,)
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier,
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift;
And hither shall he come; and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame;
If no unconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.

Jul. Give me, O give me! tell me not of fear. Fri. Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous

In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.

Jul. Love, give me strength! and strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-A room in CAPULET'S house.

Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, Nurse and Servants.

Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ.— [Exit Servant.

Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. 2 Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they can lick their fingers.

Cap. How canst thou try them so?

2 Serv. Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers; therefore he, that cannot lick his fingers, goes not with me.

Cap. Go, begone.[Exit Servant. We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence? Nurse. Ay, forsooth.