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With Romeo, till I behold him-dead-
Is my poor heart fo for a kinfman 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 fleep 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 fuch a man. But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

Jul. And joy comes well in fuch a needful time: What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

La. Cap. Well, well, thou haft a careful father, child; One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,

Hath forted out a fudden 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 faint Peter's church,

Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.

Jul. Now, by faint Peter's church, and Peter toa,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.

I wonder at this hafte; 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

Enter CAPULET and Nurfe.

Cap. When the fun fets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the funset of my brother's fon,

It rains downright.

How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
Evermore showering? In one little body

Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a fea,

wind:

For ftill thy eyes, which I may call the fea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this falt flood; the winds, thy fighs;
Who,-raging with thy tears, and they with them,—
Without a fudden calm, will overfet

Thy tempeft-toffed body.-How now, wife ?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree ?

La. Cap. Ay, fir; but she will none, fhe 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 the not proud? doth the 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-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 fettle your fine joints 'gainst thursday next,. To go with Paris to faint Peter's church,

Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

Out, you green-fickness carrion! out, you baggage!
You tallow face!

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La. Cap.

Fie, fie! what are you mad?

Jul. Good father, I befeech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! difobedient 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 fent us but this only child;
But now I fee this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her:
Out on her, hilding!

Nurfe.

God in heaven blefs her!

You are to blame, my lord, to rate her fo.

Cap. And why, my lady wifdom? hold your tongue, Good prudence; fmatter with your goffips, go.

Nurse. I fpeak no treason.

Cap.

Nurfe. May not one speak?

Cap.

O, God ye good den!

Peace, you mumbling fool!

Utter your gravity o'er a goffip'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 fleeping, ftill my care hath been
To have her match'd: and having now provided,
A gentleman of princely parentage,

Of fair demefnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
Stuff'd (as they fay,) 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,

Τα

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 foul, 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 fitting in the clouds, That fees into the bottom of my grief? O, sweet my mother, caft 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!-O nurse! how fhall this be prevented?

My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
How shall that faith return again to earth,

Unless that hufband fend it me from heaven
By leaving earth?-comfort me, counsel me.-
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon fo foft a fubject as myself!-

What fay'st thou? haft 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, fince the cafe fo ftands as now it doth,

Į think it best you married with the county.

O, he's

O, he's a lovely gentleman!

Romeo's a difhclout to him; an eagle, madam,
Hath not fo green, fo quick, fo fair an eye,
As Paris hath. Befhrew 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. Speakeft thou from thy heart?
Nurse.

Or else beshrew them both.

Jul.

Nurfe.

From my

foul too;

Amen!

To what?

Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,

Having difpleas'd my father, to Laurence' cell,

To make confession, and to be abfolv'd.

Nurfe. Marry, I will; and this is wifely done. [Exit. Jul. Ancient damnation! O moft wicked fiend!

Is it more fin-to with me thus forfworn,

Or to dispraise my lord with that fame tongue
Which the hath prais'd him with above compare
So many thousand times ?—Go, counsellor;
Thou and my bofom henceforth fhall be twain.-
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy;
If all elfe fail, myself have power to die.

[Exit.

ACT

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