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. 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"! Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes; dark our woes. more dark and Enter Nurse. Nurse. Madam! Jul. Nurse? Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your cham ber: The day is broke; be wary, look about. [Exit Nurse. Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll de scend. [ROMEO descends. lord! my love! my my I must hear from thee every day i' the hour, Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity 7 Reflection of the moon. 8 Inclination. 9 Division was the technical phrase for musical composition. 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. 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 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! [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? 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? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? And if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him live; Therefore, have done: Some grief shows much of love; But much of grief shows still some want of wit. Which you weep for. 1 Brings. 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. 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. 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. tua, I'll send to one in Man Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, 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? La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; One, who, to put thee from thy, heaviness, That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for. morn, The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, He shall not make me there a joyful bride. 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? |