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Jul. What villain, madam? La. Cup. That same villain, Romeo. Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder. God pardon him I do, with all my heart; And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart. La. Cap. That is, because the traitor murderer lives. Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands. Would none but I might venge my cousin's death ! La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not : Then, weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,Where that same banish’d runagate doth live, Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram 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 find out but 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 lilan. But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. Jul. And joy comes well in such a needy 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 Thursday morn, The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, The county Paris, at Saint Peter's church Shall happily make thee 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 earth 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 7 doth she not give us thanks 1 ls 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 1 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-logic 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 St. Peter's church, Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion' out, you baggage! You tallow face | 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! 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 lent 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 1 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 1 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, hour, tide, time, work, play, Alone, in company, still my care hath been To have her match'd; and having now provided A gentleman of noble parentage, Offair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, Stuff"d (as they say) with honourable parts, Proportion'd as one's thought would 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, } 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. [Eacit. Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?—
La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Erit.
Jul. O God!—O nurse ! how shall this be pre
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
Nurse. Faith, here 'tis. Romeo
Romeo's a dishclout to him : an eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye,
Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
Nurse. And from my soul too; Or else beshrew them both.
Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous
Go in ; and tell my lady I am gone,
Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
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 praised 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. [Erit.
Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with || Or shall I come to you at evening mass 1
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 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: Is 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,
'ri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
O'er-covered quite with dead men's rattling bones,
ScKNE II.-A Room in CAPULET's House.
Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULEt, Nurse, and Servants.
Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ.— - [Erit Servant. Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. 2 Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for 1'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.— [Erit Serrant. We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.— What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence? Nurse. Ay, forsooth. Cap., Well, he may chance to do some good on
Nurse. See, where she comes from shrift with merry look. Cap. How now, o headstrong! where have you been gadding ! Jul. Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition To you, and your behests; and am enjoin'd By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, And beg your pardon.—Pardon, I beseech you: Henceforward I am ever rul’d by you. Cap. Send for the county: go tell him of this. I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell; And gave him what becomed love I might, Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty. Cap. Why, I am gladon't; this is well,—stand up: This is as t should be.—Let me see the county: Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.— Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar, All our whole city is much bound to him. Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet, To help me sort such needful ornaments As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow ! La. Cap. No, not till Thursday: there is time enough. Cap. Go, nurse, go with her.—We'll to church to-morrow. [Ereunt JULIET and Nurse. La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision: 'Tis now near night. Cap. Tush' I will stir about, And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife. Go thou to Juliet; help to deck up her: I'll not to bed to-night:—let me alone: I'll play the housewife for this once.—What, ho!— They are all forth: well, I will walk myself To county Paris, to prepare up him Against to-morrow. My heart is wond’rous light, Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. [Eartunt.
Scen E III.—JULIET's Chamber.
Enter JULIET and Nurse.
Jul. Ay, those attires are best:—but, gentle nurse, I o thee, leave me to myself to-night; For I have need of many orisons To move the heavens to smile upon my state, Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.
Enter Lady CAPULET.
La. Cap. What, are you busy, ho? need you my help ? Jul. No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries As are behoveful for our state to-morrow : So please you, let me now be left alone, And let the nurse this night sit up with you ; For, I am sure, you have your hands full all, In this so sudden business. La. Cap. Good night: Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. [Ereunt Lady CAPULET and Nurse. Jul. Farewell!—God knows when we shall meet again. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, That almost freezes up the heat of life: I'll call them back again to comfort me.— Nurse !—What should she do here 1 My dismal scene I needs must act alone.—