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lord ! my
[Exit Nurse. Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewell, farewell ! one kiss, and I'll descend.
[Romeo descends. Jul. Art thou gone so? my
my friend! I must hear from thee every day i'the hour, For in a minute there are many days: 0! by this count I shall be much in years, Ere I again behold my Romeo.
Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Jul. O, 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 ;
Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu !
[Exit Romeo. Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle: If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him That is renown’d for faith?5 Be fickle, fortune;
That is renown'd for faith?] This Romeo, so renown'd for faith, was but the day before dying for love of another woman : yet this is natural. Romeo 'was the darling object of Juliet's love, and Romeo was, of course, to have every excellence.
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
La. 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: 6
Enter Lady CAPULET. La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet? Jul.
Madam, I am not well. La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's
death? What, wilt thou wash him from his
with tears? An if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him live; Therefore, have done: Some grief shows much of
Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
Feeling so the loss, I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep’st not so much
for his death,
Jul. What villain, madam?
That same villain, Romeo.
heart; And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart. La. Cap. That is, because the traitor murderer
procures her hither?] Procures for brings.
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,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-deadIs 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.--0, how my heart abhors To hear him nam'd, -and cannot come to him.To wreak the love I bore
cousin Tybalt Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him!
La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find such
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.
Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time;
Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
7 Ay, madam, from, &c.] Juliet's equivocations are rather too artful for a mind disturbed by the loss of a new lover. Johnson.
in happy time,] A la bonne heure. This phrase was in. terjected, when the hearer was not quite so well pleased as the speaker.
La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday
Jul. Now, by St. Peter's church, and Peter too,
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
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?
9 The county Paris,] Paris, though in one place called Earl, is most commonly stiled the Countie in this play. Shakspeare seems to have preferred, for some reason or other, the Italian Comte to our Count : perhaps he took it from the old English novel, from which he is said to have taken his plot; and in which Paris is first stiled a young Earle, and afterwards Counte, Countee, County ; according to the unsettled orthography of the time.
deliver'd to her our decree? La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives
I would, the fool were married to her grave !
Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that
you have :
Proud can I never be of what I hate ;
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! 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!