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| On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. |
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My father Capulet will have it so;
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. |
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You say you do not know the lady's mind:
Uneven is the course, I like it not. |
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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. |
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| I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. |
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| Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. |
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| Happily met, my lady and my wife! |
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| That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. |
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| That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. |
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| Come you to make confession to this father? |
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| To answer that, I should confess to you. |
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| Do not deny to him that you love me. |
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| I will confess to you that I love him. |
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| So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. |
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If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. |
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| Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears. |
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The tears have got small victory by that;
For it was bad enough before their spite. |
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| Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report. |
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That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;
And what I spake, I spake it to my face. |
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| Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. |
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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? |
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My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
My lord, we must entreat the time alone. |
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God shield I should disturb devotion!
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye:
Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. |
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O shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! |
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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. |
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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 join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both:
Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,
Give me some present counsel, or, behold,
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. |
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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,
That copest with death himself to scape from it:
And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy. |
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O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. |
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Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow:
To-morrow night look that thou lie alone;
Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:
Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
When presently through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse
Shall keep his native progress, but surcease:
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall,
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
Each part, deprived of supple government,
Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death:
And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then, as the manner of our country is,
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
And hither shall he come: and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame;
If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting it. |
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| Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear! |
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Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous
In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. |
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Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford.
Farewell, dear father! |
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So many guests invite as here are writ.
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. |
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You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they
can lick their fingers. |
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| How canst thou try them so? |
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Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his
own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his
fingers goes not with me. |
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Go, be gone.
Exit Second Servant
We shall be much unfurnished for this time. |
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Well, he may chance to do some good on her:
A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. |
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| See where she comes from shrift with merry look. |
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| How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding? |
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Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition
To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you!
Henceforward I am ever ruled by you. |
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Send for the county; go tell him of this:
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. |
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I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
And gave him what becomed love I might,
Not step o'er the bounds of modesty. |
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Why, I am glad on't; this is well: stand up:
This is as't should be. Let me see the county;
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.
Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar,
Our whole city is much bound to him. |
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Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow? |
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| No, not till Thursday; there is time enough. |
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| Go, nurse, go with her: we'll to church to-morrow. |
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We shall be short in our provision:
'Tis now near night. |
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Tush, I will stir about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her;
I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone;
I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho!
They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself
To County Paris, to prepare him up
Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light,
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. |
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Ay, those attires are best: but, gentle nurse,
I pray thee, leave me to my self to-night,
For I have need of many orisons
To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
Which, well thou know'st, is cross, and full of sin. |
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| What, are you busy, ho? need you my help? |
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No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries
As are behoveful for our state to-morrow:
So please you, let me now be left alone,
And let the nurse this night sit up with you;
For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,
In this so sudden business. |
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Good night:
Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. |
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| Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse. |
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| They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. |
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Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd,
The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:
Look to the baked meats, good Angelica:
Spare not for the cost. |
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Go, you cot-quean, go,
Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow
For this night's watching. |
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No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now
All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. |
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Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time;
But I will watch you from such watching now. |
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| A jealous hood, a jealous hood! |
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Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him;
And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare
To follow this fair corse unto her grave:
The heavens do lour upon you for some ill;
Move them no more by crossing their high will. |
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All things that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral;
Our instruments to melancholy bells,
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast,
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary. |
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Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not
In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid:
Your part in her you could not keep from death,
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was her promotion;
For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced:
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, in this love, you love your child so ill,
That you run mad, seeing that she is well:
She's not well married that lives married long;
But she's best married that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,
In all her best array bear her to church:
For though fond nature bids us an lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. |
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