For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, Without a sudden calm will overset Thy tempest-tossed body.-How now, wife? 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? Proud can I never be of what I hate; But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next, Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. [gage! 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: That God had sent us but this only child; Nurse. You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your God in heaven bless her! tongue, Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. Nurse. I speak no treason. Cap. Nurse. May not one speak? Cap. O, God ye good den! Peace, you mumbling fool! You are too hot. Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl, La. Cap. Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad: Day, night, late, early, At home, abroad, alone, in company, Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train❜d, me; Look to 't, think on 't, I do not use to jest. Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. Jul. O God!-0 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 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 Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, madam, Or else beshrew them both. Jul. Nurse. From my soul too; Amen! To what? 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. Jul. 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 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. Friar Laurence's Cell. Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS. Fri. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. Par. My father Čapulet will have it so; And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste. 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; Now do you know the reason of this haste. slow'd. [Aside. 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. That's a certain text. Par. Come you to make confession to this father? Jul. To auswer 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. Thon 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. 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. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now: My lord, we must entreat the time alone. Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion:Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you: Till then, adieu! and keep this holy kiss. [Exit. Jul. 0, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me; Past hope, past cure, past help! Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; It strains me past the compass of my wits: I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this county. Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou bear'st of this, Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife I'll help it presently. And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd, Or my true heart with treacherous revolt |