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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 settle 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 !
L. Cap.

Fie, fie! what, are you mad?
Ju. 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

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:
Out on her, hilding ! 1

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.

1 Base woman.


0, God ye good den! Nurse. May not one speak ? Cap.

Peace, you mumbling fool! Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl, For here we need it not. L. 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 To have her match'd ; and having now provided A gentleman of princely parentage, Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, Stuff'd, as they say, with honorable 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, 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 soul, I'll ne'er acknowlege thee, Nor what is mine shall never do thee good : Trust to't; bethink you ; I'll not be forsworn.

[Erit. Ju. 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
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
L. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a

word : Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Erit. Ju. O God !-O nurse ! how shall this be pre

vented ?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven :
How shall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that busband 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,

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,


Ill betide.

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.

Ju. Speakest thou from thy heart?

From my soul too;
Or else beshrew them both.

Amen! Nurse.

To what?
Ju. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous

Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell,
To make confession, and to be absolved.
Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.

Ju. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend !
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath praised 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.



Friar Laurence's cell.


F. Lau. On Thursday, sir ? the time is very

short. Pa. My father Capulet will have it so; And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. F. Lau. You say, you do not know the lady's

mind : Uneven is the course ; I like it not.

Pa. 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, 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. F. Lau. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.

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

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