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And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy
[friend,
The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her;
But, look, thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.-
Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
Romeo is coming.

Nurse. I could have staid all night,

To hear good counsel: O, what learning is !—
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you,
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. [sir.
[Exit Nurse.
Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!
Fri. Go hence: Good night; and here stands
all your state;*—

Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day, disguis'd from hence:
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he shall signify from time to time
Every good hap to you, that chances here:
Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good
night.

Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me, It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-A Room in CAPULET'S House. Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS. Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily, That we have had no time to move our daughter: Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I;-Well, we were born to die.'Tis very late, she 'll not come down to-night: I promise you, but for your company, I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

Par. These times of woe afford no time to woo: Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter. [morrow; La Cap. I will, and know her mind early toTo-night she's mew'd+ up to her heaviness.

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a'desperate ‡ tender Of my child's love: I think she will be rul'd 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 nextBut. soft; What day is this?

Par.

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

The whole of your fortune depends on this. + Shut up. + Bold.

Reflection of the moon.

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Cap. Well, get you gone :-O' Thursday be it 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. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.-JULIET's Chamber.

Enter ROMEO and JULiet.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua: Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone. Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads : I have more care to stay, than will to go;Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.How is 't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.

Jul. It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away;
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
Some say, the lark makes sweet division;¶
This doth not so, for she divideth us:

Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
O, now I would they had chang'd voices too!
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light?-more dark and
dark our woes.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. Madam! Jul. Nurse? [chamber: Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your The day is broke; be wary, look about.

[Erit Nurse. Jul. Then, window let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. [ROM. descends.

Jul. Art thou gone so? my love! my lord! my friend!

I must hear from thee every day i' the hour,
For in a minute there are many days:
O! 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.

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Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again? Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall For sweet discourses in our time to come. [serve Jul. Alas! 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 eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu! [Exit Roм. 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.

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?
Enter LADY CAPULET.

La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet?
Jul.

Madam, I am not well. La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? [tears? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with An if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him live; [love; Therefore, have done: Some grief shows much of But much of grief shows still some want of wit. Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the Which you weep for. [friend Jul. 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,

As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him. Jul. What villain, madam?

La. Cap.

That same villain, Romeo. Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder. Heaven 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. [hands.

Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my Would, none but I might venge my cousin's death! thou not:

La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear 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.-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? [child; La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, 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?

* Brings.

La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,

The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The County Paris, at St. Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
Jul. Now, by St. 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.
[thanks?
How! will she none? doth she not give us
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.
Cap. How now! how now, chop-logic! What
is this?
[not ;-
Proud, and, I thank you,-and, I thank you
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.

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; [bless'd,
My fingers itch.-Wife, we scarce thought us
That Heaven 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:

[so.

Nurse. You are to blame, my lord, to rate her Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,

Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. Nurse. May not one speak?

Cap. No: 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. 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,
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 :
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 heaven!-O 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!-
What say'st thou hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse.

Nurse.

'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo
Is banished; and 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.
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 is naught 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.

Jul.

Amen! Nurse. To what? [much. Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous Go in; and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, To make confession, and to be absolv'd. Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [Exit. Jul. Is it more sin-to wish me thus forsworn, Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she hath prais'd 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. [Exit.

Act Fourth.

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 Uneven is the course; I like it not. [mind: 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 Thursday

next.

Jul. What must be shall be. Fri. That's a certain text. [father? Par. Come you to make confession to this 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

tears.

Jul. The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough before their spite. Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.

Tit.

Jul. That is no slander, sir, that is a truth; And what I spake, I spake it to my face. Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'ȧ 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. Now heaven forbid, I should disturb de-
votion !-

Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you
Till then, adieu! and keep this holy kiss.

:

[Exit PAR. Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, [help! Come weep with me; Past hope, past cure, past 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
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: [this,
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.
Love 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

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