Jul Indeed, I never fhall be fatisfied With Romeo, till I behold him

dead

Is my poor heart fo for a Kinsman vext.
Madam, if You could find out but a Man
To bear a poyfon, I would temper it;
That Romeo fhould 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 flaughter'd Coufin,
Upon his body that hath flaughter'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 befeech 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 this?

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 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 hafte, that I must wed
Ere he, that must be husband, comes to wooe.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, Madam,
I will not marry yet: and when I do,

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 your felf,

And fee, how he will take it at your hands.

Enter Capulet, and Nurse.

Cap. When the Sun fets, the Air doth drizzle Dew; But for the Sunset of my Brother's Son

It rains downright.

How

How now? a conduit, girl? what, ftill in tears?'
Evermore fhow'ring? in one little body
Thou counterfeit'ft a bark, a fea, a 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,
Which, 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, Sir; but fhe 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 fhe none ? doth fhe not give us thanks?
Is fhe not proud, doth fhe not count her bleft,
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!

Why, 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 Saint Peter's church :

Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

Out, you green-fickness-carrion! Out, you baggage!
You Tallow-face!

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

My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us bleft,
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 bless her!

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

Cap. And why, my lady Wisdom? hold your tongue, Good Prudence, fmatter with your goffips, go. Nurfe. I fpeak no treafon - O, god-ye-good-den

May not one speak?

Cap. Peace, 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 noble parentage,

Of fair demeafns, youthful, and nobly-allied,
Stuff'd, as they fay, with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's thought would 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, if you will not wed, I'll pardon you:
Graze where you will, you fhall not houfe with me ;
Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jeft.

Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise;

If

you be mine, I'll give you to my friend:
If you be not, hang, beg, ftarve, die i'th' ftreets;
For, by my foul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine fhall ever do thee good :
Truft to't, bethink you, I'll not be forfworn.
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,

[Exit.

De'ay

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 Nurfe, how fhall this be prevented } My Husband is on Earth; my Faith in Heav'n; How fhall that Faith return again to Earth, Unless that Husband fend it me from Heav'n, By leaving Earth? Comfort me, counsel me. Alack, alack, that heav'n fhould practise ftratagems Upon fo foft a fubject as my self!

What fay'ft thou? ha't thou not a word of Joy?
Some Comfort, Nurfe.

Nurfe. Faith, here it is:

Romeo is banish'd; 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 case fo ftands, as now it doth,
I think it beft, you married with the Count.
Oh, he's a lovely gentleman!

Romeo's a difh-clout 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 happy in this second match,
For it excels your firft; or if it did not,
Your firft is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
As living here, and you no ufe of him.
Jul. Speak'st thou from thy heart ?
Nurfe. And from my Soul too,

Or elfe befhrew them both.

Jul. Amen.

Nurfe. What?

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

Having difpleas'd my father, to Lawrence' cell,
To make confeffion, and to be abfolved.

Nurfe. Marry, I will; and this is wifely done.

[Exit.

Jul. Ancient Damnation! O most wicked Fiend!

I

Is it more fin to wish me thus forfworn,

Or to difpraise 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, my felf have power to die.

ACT IV.

[Exit:

SCENE, the MONASTERY.
Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris.

FRIAR.

N Thursday, Sir! the time is very short.
Par. My father Capulet will have it so,
And I am nothing flow to flack his hafte.
Fri. You fay, you do not know the lady's mind:
Uneven is this courfe, I like it not.

Par. Immoderately fhe weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love,

For Venus fmiles not in a houfe of tears.
Now, Sir, her father counts it dangerous,
That she should give her forrow fo much sway :
And, in his wifom, haftes our marriage,
To ftop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by her self alone,
May be put from her by fociety.

Now do you know the reafon of this hafte?

Fri. I would, I knew not why it should be flow'd.

[Afide. Look, Sir, here comes the lady tow'rds my cell."

Enter Juliet.

Par. Welcome, my love, my lady and my wife!
Jul. That may be, Sir, when I may be a wife.
VOL. VIII.

D

Par