Jul. Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband,

friend!

I must hear from thee every day in the hour,

For in a minute there are many days:

O, by this count I shall be much in years

Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

Jul. O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again? Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall

serve

For sweet discourses in our time to come.

Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining soul. Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! Adieu!

[Exit.

La. Cap. [Within.] Ho, daughter, are you up? Jul. Who is 't that calls? is it my lady mother? Is she not down so late, or up so early? What unaccustomed cause procures her hither?

Enter Lady CAPULET.

La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet?

Ful.

Madam, I am not well.

La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's

death?

Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.

La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for

his death

As that the villain lives which slaughtered him.

Jul. What villain, madam?

La. Cap.

That same villain, Romeo.

Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder.

God pardon him! I do, with all my heart;

And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.

La. Cap. That is because the traitor murderer lives. Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands:

Would, none but I might venge my cousin's death. La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou

not:

Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,
Where that same banished runagate doth live,
Shall give him such an unaccustomed dram
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.
Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him—dead—
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vexed.-
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it,
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet.-O, how my heart abhors
To hear him named, and cannot come to him,
To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt
Upon his body that hath slaughtered him!

La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find such

a man.

But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

Jul. And joy comes well in such a needy time:

What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father,

child;

One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,

Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,

That thou expect'st not, nor I looked not for.

Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that?

La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday

morn,

The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,

The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church,

Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's Church, and Peter

too,

He shall not make me there a joyful bride.

I wonder at this haste; that I must wed
Ere he that should be husband comes to woo.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,
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 yourself,

And see how he will take it at your hands.

Enter CAPULET and Nurse.

Cap. How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in

tears?

Evermore showering?

How now, wife?

Have you delivered to her our decree?

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?

Is she not proud? doth she not count her blessed,
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-logic! What is this?