Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. 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, 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. Fr. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. Par. My father Capulet will have it so; And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste. Friar. 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, Now do you know the reason of this haste. [Aside. Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell Enter Juliet. Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife! 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, 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. Thou 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.— 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 Paris. 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 must prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this county. Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; Or my true heart with treacherous revolt (1) Decide the struggle between me and my dis tresses. (2) Authority or power. Which craves as desperate an execution A thing like death to chide away this shame, That cop'st with death himself to scape from it; And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy. Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, 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. Fri. 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 phial, being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off': When, presently, through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep His natural progress, but surcease to beat : No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st; 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, depriv'd of supple government, Shall stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours, And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes Jul. Give me, O give me! tell me not of fear. perous this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. Jul. Love, give me strength! and strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father! [Exeunt. SCENE II—A room in Capulet's house. Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nur-e, and Servants. Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ.[Exit Servant. Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. 2 Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they can lick their fingers. Cap. How canst thou try them so? 2 Serv. 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, begone. [Exit Servant. We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.— What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence? Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good ou her: |