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Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee | Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, fickle :
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune; For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, But send him back.
Lady 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 unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
Enter Lady CAPULET.
Lady Cap. Why, how now, Juliet!
Madam, I am not well.
Lady Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's
God pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.
Lady Cap. That is because the traitor murderer
Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands.
Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!
Lady Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not:
Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,
Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, 90
Shall give him such an unaccustom'd 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 vex'd:
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 nam'd, and cannot come to him, 101
To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt
Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him.
Lady 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?
Lady Cap. Well, well, thou hast à careful father, child;
One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for. Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
Lady Cap. Marry, my child, early next
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
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, 121
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!
Lady Cap. Here comes your father; tell him
And see how he will take it at your hands.
Enter CAPULET and Nurse.
Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;
But for the sunset of my brother's son
It rains downright.
How now! a conduit, girl? what! still in tears?
Evermore showering? In one little body
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind;
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a sudden calm, will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife!
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?
Lady 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 bless'd,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that
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
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. Lady 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 prevented?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
How shall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me.
Alack, alack! that heaven should practise
Upon so soft a subject as myself!
What say'st thou hast thou not a word of joy! Some comfort, nurse.
Faith, here 'tis. Romeo Is banished; and all the world to nothing,
SCENE I.-Verona. Friar LAURENCE'S Cell. Enter Friar LAURENCE and PARIS. Fri. 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. 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 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.
Fri. Aside. I would I knew not why it should
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell
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
Jul. What must be shall be.
That's a certain text.
Par. Come you to make confession to this
Jul. To answer that, I should 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 that; For it was bad enough before their spite.
Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with
Jul. That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slan-
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 me, pensive daughter,
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
Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past
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.
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, depriv'd of supple government,
Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like
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
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
God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
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-experienc'd 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.
Fri. Hold, daughter; I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution
As that is desperate which we would prevent. 70
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 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,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling
And this shall free thee from this present
If no unconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.
Jul. Give me, give me! O! tell not me of fear.
Fri. Hold; get you gone: be strong and
In 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.
Nurse. See where she comes from shrift with merry look.
Cap. How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?
Jul. Where I have learn'd me to repent the
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 rul'd by you.
Cap. Send for the county; go tell him of this:
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence'
And gave him what becomed love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.
Cap. Why, I am glad on 't; this is well:
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,
All our whole city is much bound to him.
Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
That almost freezes up the heat of life:
I'll call them back again to comfort me:
Nurse! What should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone.
What if this mixture do not work at all?
Shall I be married then to-morrow morning!
No, no; this shall forbid it: lie thou there.
Laying down a dagger.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead,
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd
Because he married me before to Romeo!
I fear it is and yet, methinks, it should not,
For he hath still been tried a holy man.
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? my Or, if I live, is it not very like,
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.
SCENE III.-The Same. JULIET'S Chamber.
Enter JULIET and Nurse.
Jul. Ay, those attires are best; but, gentle
I pray thee, leave me to myself 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
Lady Cap. What are you busy, ho? need you my help?
Jul. No, madam; we have cull'd such neces-
As are behoveful for our state to-morrow:
So please you, let me now be left alone,
The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place,
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where, for this many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies fest'ring in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort:
Alack, alack! is it not like that I,
So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:
O! if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Environed with all these hideous fears,
And madly play with my forefathers' joints,
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud!
And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains!
O! look, methinks I see my cousin's ghost
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
Upon a rapier's point. Stay, Tybalt, stay!
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.
She falls upon her bed within the curtains.
SCENE IV.-The Same. Hall in CAPULET'S
Enter Lady CAPULET and Nurse.
Lady Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse.
Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.
Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd,
Sirrah, fetch drier logs: Call Peter, he will show thee where they are. Second Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,
And never trouble Peter for the matter.
Cap. Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson,
Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith! 'tis day:
The county will be here with music straight,
For so he said he would.
I hear him near.
Cap. For shame! bring Juliet forth; her lord is come.
Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead; alack the day!
Lady Cap. Alack the day! she's dead, she's dead, she's dead.
Cap. Ha! let me see her. Out, alas! she's
Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;
Life and these lips have long been separated:
Death lies on her like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
Nurse. O lamentable day!
O woeful time! 30 Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make
Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.
Enter Friar LAURENCE and PARIS, with
Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
Cap. Ready to go, but never to return.
Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies,
O son! the night before thy wedding-day
Flower as she was, deflowered by him.
Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir;
My daughter he hath wedded: I will die,
Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say! And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's!
What! not a word? you take your pennyworths
Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,
The County Paris hath set up his rest,
That you shall rest but little. God forgive me,
Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep!
I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam!
Ay, let the county take you in your bed;
He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be?
What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down
I must needs wake you. Lady ! lady ! lady !
Alas! alas! Help! help! my lady's dead!
O! well-a-day, that ever I was born.
Some aqua vita, ho! My lord, my lady!
Enter Lady CAPULET.
Lady Cap. What noise is here?
Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face,
And doth it give me such a sight as this?
Lady Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hate-
Most miserable hour that e'er time saw
In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight!
Nurse. O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!
Most lamentable day, most woeful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:
O woeful day, O woeful day!
Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited,
Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!
O love! O life! not life, but love in death!
Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd,
Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now 60
To murder, murder our solemnity?
O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!
Dead art thou! alack! my child is dead;
And with my child my joys are buried.
Fri. Peace, ho! for shame! confusion's cure
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:
O lamentable day! Your part in her you could not keep from death,
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
Lady Cap. What is the matter?