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; Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. Adieu! adieu! [Exit ROMEO, La. Cap. [within.] Ho, daughter! are you up? 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? An 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. Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend Which you weep for. Jul. 5 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. 6 procures her hither?] Procures for brings. 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. 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, That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, 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, 7 Ay, madam, from, &c.] Juliet's equivocations are rather too artful for a mind disturbed by the loss of a new lover. JOHNSON. 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? The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, 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, How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? 8 in happy time,] A la bonne heure. This phrase was interjected, when the hearer was not quite so well pleased as the speaker. 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. Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, 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? doth she not give us thanks? 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-logick! What is this? Proud, and, I thank you, and, I thank you not; — Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, To 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; Nurse. God in heaven bless her! You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. 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, late, early, At home, abroad, alone, in company, Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train❜d, I am too young, I pray you, pardon me ; 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: [Exit. |