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The Monastery.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris.

N Thursday, Sir! the time is very

Par. My father Capulet will have it so,
O And I am nothing slow to lack his haste.

Fri. You say you do not know the lady's mind: Uneven is this course, I like it not.

Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, And therefore have I little talk'd of love, For Venus (miles not in a house of tears. Now, Sir, her father counts it dangerous That she should give her sorrow so much fway; And, in his wisdom, haltes our marriage, To stop the inundation of her tears ; Which too much minded by her self alone, May be put from her by society. Now do you know the reason of this haste?

Fri. I would I knew not why it should be slowd. Look, Sir, here comes the lady tow'rds



Enter Juliet.
Par. Welcome my love, 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.


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Par. Come you to make confession to this father ?
Jul. To answer 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 ye, 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 chat:
For it was bad enough before their spight.

Par. Thou wrongʻst it, more than tears, with that report.

Jul. That is no slander, Sir, which is but truth,
And what I speak, I speak 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 mie, pensive daughter, now.
My lord, I must intreat the time alone.

Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion :
Juliet farewel, and keep this holy kiss.

[Exit Paris. Jul. Go shut the door, and when thou hast done so,

with me, past hope, past cure, past help.
Fri. O Juliet, I already know your grief,
I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this Count.

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 join’d my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands,
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seald,
Rr 2


Come weep

Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall say them both :
Therefore out of thy long-experienc'd time,
Give me some present counsel, or behold
”Twixt my extreams and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire; arbitratiog that,
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring:
*Speak not, be brief; for I desire to dye,
If what thou speak’st speak not of remedy.

Fri. Hold, daughter, I do 'spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution,
As that is desp’rate which we would prevent.
If rather than to marry County Paris
Thou bast the strength or will to Nay thy self,
Then it is likely thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That copist with death bimself, to 'scape from it:
And if thou dar’st, I'll give thee remedy.

Jul. O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
bOr chain me to some steepy mountain's top
Where roaring bears and savage lions roam;
Or shut me nightly in a charnel house,
O’er-cover'd quite with dead mens ratling bones,
With reeky Thanks, 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 oam’d, have made me tremble;
And I will do it without fear or doubt,

a Be not so long to speak, I long to die.

b Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk Where serpents are, chain me with roaring bears, Or bide me nightly, &c.

It is thus the editions vary,



c tolu.

To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.

Fri. Hold Juliet : hye thee home, get thee to bed :
(Let not thy Nurse lye with thee in thy chamber :)
And when thou art alone, take thou this viol,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off,
When presently through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsie humour, which shall seize
Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep
His narral progress, but surcease to beat.
No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To d paly alhes; the eyes windows fall
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
And in this borrowed likenels 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 rowse 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,
Be born to burial in thy kindreds grave:
Thou shalt be born to that same antient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lye.
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;
If no unconstant toy nor womanish fear
Abate thy valour in the acting it.
Jul. Give me, oh give me, tell not me of fear. (taking the vial.

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.


d mealy.

Jul. Love give me strength, and strength shall help afford. Farewel, dear father



Capulet's House.
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and two or three


We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time:
What, is my daughter gone to Friar Lawrence ?

Nurse. Ay forsooth.

Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her: A peevish self-will’d harlotry it is.

Enter Juliet.
Nurse. «See where she comes from her confeffion.
Cap. How now, , my head-strong? where have you been

Jul. Where I have learnt me to repent the fin
Of disobedient opposition

you and your behests; and am enjoyn’d
By holy Lawrence, to fall prostrate here,
And beg your pardon: pardon I beseech you!
Henceforward I am ever ruld by you,
Cap. Send for the Count, go tell him of this,

twenty cunning cooks.
Ser. You shall have none ill, Sir, for I'll try if they can lick their fingers.
Cap. How canst thou try them so ?

Ser. Marry, Sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his fingers, goes not with me.

Cap. Go, be gone. We shall be much &c.

e See where she comes from shrift, with merry look.

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