'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 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.

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;
Wife, we scarce thought us blest
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!

Nurse. God in heaven bless her!-
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
La. Cap. You are too hot.

Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad:
Day, night, early, late, at home, abroad,

Alone, in company, waking or sleeping, still my care

hath been

To have her matched: and having now provided

A gentleman of noble parentage,

Of fair demesnes, youthful and nobly trained,
Proportioned 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.
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 acknowledge thee.

---

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
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.

[Exit.

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 nurse, how shall this be pre

vented?-comfort me, counsel me.

Alack, alack! that Heaven should practise strata

gems

Upon so soft a subject as myself!—

What say'st thou ? hast thou not a word of joy?

Some comfort, nurse.

Nurse.

Faith, here 't is. 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.

Beshrew my very heart,

I think you are happy in this second match,

For it excels your first.

Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?

Nurse. And from my soul too; else beshrew them

both.

Jul. Amen!

Nurse. What?

Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous

much.

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.

[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 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.

ACT IV.

SCENE 1.--Friar LAURENCE'S Cell.

Enter Friar LAURENCE and PARIS.

Friar:

N Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
Par. My father Capulet 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 talked 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.

Fri. [Aside.] I would I knew not why it should

be slowed.

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 answer that, I should confess to you.

Are you at leisure, holy father, now;

Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter,

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. O, 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 may prorogue it,

On Thursday next be married to this county.

Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'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.

God joined my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo sealed,

Shall be the label to another deed,

Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both.

Fri. Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution

As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry County Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
Then is it likely thou wilt undertake

A thing like death to chide away this shame.