O, sweet my mother, cast me not away! 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 shall this be pre vented? My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; What say'st thou ? hast thou not a word of joy ? Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis: Romeo Is banished; and all the world to nothing, Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, madam, Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart? 1 I think it best you married with the county.] The character of the nurse exhibits a just picture of those whose actions have no principles for their foundation. She has been unfaithful to the trust reposed in her by Capulet, and is ready to embrace any expedient that offers, to avert the consequences of her first infidelity. STEEVENS. Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. 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. Is it more sinto wish me thus forsworn, If all else fail, myself have power to die. [Exit. ACT IV. SCENE I. Friar Laurence's Cell. Enter Friar LAURENCE and PARIS. Fri. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste.2 Fri. You say, you do not know the lady's mind; Uneven is the course, I like it not. 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. 2 And I am nothing slow, &c.] His haste shall not be abated by my slowness Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous, Now do Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. Enter JULIET. [Aside. Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife! Fri. That's a certain text. Par. Come you to make confession to this father? love me. Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. For it was bad enough, before their spite. Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report. 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'd it. Are you at leisure, holy father, now; Or shall I come to you at evening mass? 3 3 Or shall I come to you at evening mass ?] Juliet means vespers. There is no such thing as evening mass. Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now:My lord, we must entreat the time alone. Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion! [Exit PARIS. Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, And with this knife I'll help it presently. God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; Or my true heart with treacherous revolt 6 + Shall be the label to another deed,] The seals of deeds in our author's time were not impressed on the parchment itself on which the deed was written, but were appended on distinct slips or labels affixed to the deed. 5 Shall play the umpire;] That is, this knife shall decide the struggle between me and my distresses. commission of thy years and art-] Commission is for authority or power. Fri. Hold, daughter; I do spy a kind of hope, A thing like death to chide away this shame, Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; And I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. Fri. Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow; To-morrow night look that thou lie alone, Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: Take thou this phial, being then in bed, And this dis tilled liquor drink thou off: When, presently, through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep His natural progress, but surcease to beat: No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st; The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall, Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; Each part, depriv'd of supple government, Shall stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death: And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death |