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Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But fettle (95)
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-sickness carrion! out, you baggage !
You tallow-face!

La. Cap.

Fie, fie! 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 (96) but this only child;

But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her:
Out on her, hilding!

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.

Nurse. I speak no treason.

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Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl;

For here we need it not.

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Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad day, night, late, early, At home, abroad, alone, in company,

"Proud, and yet not proud, and, I thank you not,
And yet, I thank you, mistress minion you,' &c.

A transposition has taken place, and one 'yet' fallen out."

(95) fettle] The first quarto, and the second, third, and fourth folios have "settle."-The other old eds. have "fettle."-See Glossary.

(96) had sent us] "So the first quarto, 1597. The subsequent ancient copies read had lent us.'" MALONE.-Though I here follow the earliest authority, I see nothing objectionable in the reading of the later old eds. (97) Peace,] Perhaps "Peace, peace.”

Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been

To have her match'd: (98) and having now provided
A gentleman of princely parentage,

Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
Stuff'd, as they say, 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, 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.

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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 in the streets,
For, by my soul, 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.

Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?
O sweet my mother, cast me not away!
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed

(98) 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

To have her match'd:]

The first quarto has

"Gods blessed mother wife it mads me,
Day, night, early, late, at home, abroad,
Alone, in company, waking or sleeping,
Still my care hath beene to see her matcht."

The later eds. have

"Gods bread, it makes me mad.

Day, night, houre, tide, time, worke, play,
Alone in companie, still my care hath bene

To have her matcht."

[Exit.

I give the modern composite reading; which (as is remarked by Mr. Grant White, who, however, does not adopt it) "perhaps very nearly approaches what Shakespeare wrote, on the revision of the play."

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.

Jul. O God!-0 nurse, how shall this be prevented?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
How shall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth ?-comfort me, counsel me.-
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself!-

What say'st thou hast 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, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the county.
O, he's a lovely gentleman!

Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you're 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, (99) and you no use of him.

Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
Nurse.

Or else beshrew them both.

[Exit

And from my soul too;

Jul.

Nurse.

Amen!

What? (100)

Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.

(99) As living here,] "Sir Thomas Hanmer reads 'As living hence,' that is, at a distance, in banishment; but here' may signify 'in this world."" JOHNSON.-I suspect that "here" is wrong. The line, p. 437, "Hence from Verona art thou banished," is corrupted, in the second and third quartos and in the folio, to "Here in Verona," &c.

(100) What?] Hanmer prints "To what?" but it is more probable that we ought to read "What say you?" for the first quarto has "What say you Madame?"

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.

Jul. Ancient damnation! O most cursed fiend !(101)

Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,

Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath prais'd him with above compare
So many thousand times?-Go, counsellor;
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.-
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy:

If all else fail, myself have power to die.

[Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Verona. Friar LAURENCE'S cell.

Enter Friar LAURENCE and PARIS.

Fri. L. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
Par. My father Capulet will have it so;

And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.(102)

Fri. L. 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.

Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous

That she doth give her sorrow so much sway;
And, in his wisdom, hastes our marriage,

(101) cursed fiend!] So the first quarto alone.-On the common reading, "wicked fiend," Walker remarks, "Almost as flat as 'deadly murder,' King Henry V. iii. 3. Wither'd,' I imagine; (scarcely' wrinkled")." Crit.

Exam., &c., vol. iii. p. 228.

(102) And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.] "If this kind of phraseology be justifiable, it can be justified only by supposing the meaning to be, there is nothing of slowness in me, to induce me to slacken or abate his haste." MALONE.- "The sense appears to be, and I am not slow in my own preparations for the wedding, to give him slacken his hasty proceedings." STAUNTON.

any reason to

To stop the inundation of her tears;

Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society:

Now do you know the reason of this haste.

Fri. L. [aside] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.

Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

Enter JULIET.

Par. Happily met, my lady and my wife!
Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.

Par. That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.
Jul. What must be shall be.

Fri. L.

That's a certain text.

Par. Come you to make confession to this father?
Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you.
Par. Do not deny to him that you love me.
Jul. I will confess to you that I love him.
Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me.
Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price,

Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears.
Jul. The tears have got small victory by that;

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, which is a truth;

And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.

Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own.

Are you at leisure, holy father, now;

Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

Fri. L. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.

My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

Par. God shield I should disturb devotion!

Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss.

Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye:

[Exit.

Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!

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