That we have had no time to move cur daughter.
Look you, the lov'd her kinfman Tybalt dearly,
And fo did 1.--Well, we were born to die.
"Tis very late, fhe'll not come down to-night.
I promise you, but for your company,

I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

Par. Thefe times of woe afford no time to wooe. Madam, good night; commend me to your daughter. La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to-morrow. To-night the's mew'd up to her heavineis.

Cop. Sir Paris, I will make a separate tender
Of my child's love. I think the will be rul'd
In all refpecs by me; nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here with my fon Paris' love,

And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next,—
But, feft; what day is this?

Par. Monday, my ord.

Cap. Monday

Ha! ha! well, Wednesday is too

On Thurfday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her, [foon,
She thall be married to this Noble Earl.

Will you be ready? Do you like this hafe?
Well keep no great a-do-a friend or two-
For, hark you, Tybalt being flain fo late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinfman, if we revel much :

Therefore we'll have fome half a-dozen friends,
And there's an end. But what fay you to I hursday?
Par. My Lord, I would that Thurday were to-

morrow.

Cap. Weil, get you gone-on Thurfday be it then Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed.

To Lady Cap.. Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day. Farewel, my Lord Light to my chamber, hoa!. 'Fore me, it is fo very late, that we

May call it early by and by. Good night. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII. Juliet's chamber locking to the garden. Enter Romeo and Juliet, above, at a window; a ladder of ropes fet.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day.

It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
'That pierce'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly the fings on yon pomgranate tree.
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks 'Do lace the fevering clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day • Stands tiptoe on the misty mountains' tops. 'I must be gone, and live; or stay, and die. Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it well It is fome meteor that the fun exhales, To be this night a torch-bearer,

And light thee on thy way to Mantua;

Then stay a while, thou shalt not go fo feon.
Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, if thou wilt have it fo.

I'll fay, yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'I is but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heav'ns so high above our heads.
I have more care to ftay, than will to go.
Come, death, and welcome: Juliet wills it fo.
How is't, my foul? let's talk, it is not day.'
ful. It is, it is; hie hence, begone, away:
It is the lark that fings fo out of tune,

Straining harth difcords, and unpleafing fharps.
Some fay, the lark makes fweet divifion;
This doth not fo: for fhe divideth us.

Some fay, the lark and lothed toad change eyes;
O, now I wot they have change'd voices too * !
O now be gone, more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light? More dark and dark.

Nurfe. Your Lady mother's coming to your chamber:

* Alludag to the notion of the vulgar; because the lark, with a fweet pipe, bath little ug y eyes; and the toad large and fine buc a difinal croaking voice.

eyes,

The

The day is broke, be wary look about. [Exit Nurfe. Jul Then, window, let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewel, farewel; one kiss, and I'll defcend. Romeo defcends.

Jul. Art thou gone fo? love! lord! ah husband ! I must hear from thee ev'ry day in th' hour, [friend ! For in a minute there are many days.

O, by this count I fhall be much in
Ere I again behold my Romeo.

years

Rom. Farewel: I will omit no opportunity

That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Jul. O think'st thou we fhall ever meet again?

Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes fhall ferve
For fweet difcourfes, in our time to come.
Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining foul.
Methinks I fee thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb :
Either my eye fight fails, or thou look'ft pale.
Rom. And trust me, love, in mine eye fo do you:
Dry forrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu.

[Exit Romeo..

Jul. O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle: If thou art fickle, what doft thou with him That is renown'd for faith? be fickle, Fortune: For then I hope thou wilt not keep him long, But fend him back.

Enter Lady Capulet.

La Cap. Ho, daughter, are you up?

Ful Who is't that calls is it my Lady-mother? What unaccuftom'd caufe procures *her hither ? La Cap. Why how now, Juliet?

Jul Madam, I am not well.

La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your coufin's death? What wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? An' if thou could't, thou could't not make him live; Therefore have done. Some grief fhews much of love; But much of grief fhews ftill fome want of wit. Jul. Yet let me weep for fuch a feeling lofs. * procures, for brings.

La. Cap.

La. Cap. So fhall you feel the lofs, but not the friend Which you do weep for.

Jul. Feeling fo the lofs,

I cannot chufe but ever weep the friend.

La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'ft not fo much for his As that the villain lives which flaughter'd him. [death, Jul. What villain, Madam?

La. Cap. That fame villain, Romeo.

Jul. Villain and he are many miles afunder. [Afide. God pardon him! I do with all my heart: And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. La. Cap. That is, because the traitor lives.

Jul. I, Madam from the reach of these my hands:'Would none but I might 'venge my coufin's death! La. Cap We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not; Then weep no more. I'll fend to one in Mantua, Where that fame banish'd runagate doth live, Shall give him fuch an unaccustom'd dram, That he fhall foon keep Tybalt company. And then I hope thou wilt be fatisfied. Jul Indeed I never fhall be fatisfied With Romeo, till I behold him -deadIs my poor heart fo for a kinsman vex'd ? Madam, if you could find out but a man To bear a poifon, I would temper it; That Romeo fhould, upon receipt thereof, Soon fleep in quiet.

To hear him nam'd

་

O, how my heart abhors
and cannot come to him-

To wreck the love I bore my flaughter'd coufin,
Upon his body that hath flaughter'd him.

La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find fuch a

But now I tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

[man.

Jul. And joy comes well in fuch a needful time.

What are they, I beseech your Ladyfhip?

La Cap. Well, well, thou haft a careful father, child: One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,

Hath forted out a fudden day of joy,

That thou expect'ft not, nor. I look'd not for.

Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is this?

La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday mora,

The gallant, young and noble gentleman,
The county Paris, at St. Peter's church,

Shall

Shall happily make thee a joyful bride.

Jul. Now, by St. Peter's church, and Peter too,
He fhall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this hafte, that I muft wed
Ere he that must be hufband comes to wooe.
I pray you tell my lord and father, Madam,
I will not marry yet: and when I do,

It fhall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris.-Thefe are news indeed!

La. Cap. Here comes your father, tell him fo yourself, And fee how he will take it at your hands.

Enter Capulet, and Nurse.

Cap. When the fun fets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the funfet of my brother's fon

It rains downright

How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
Evermore fhow'ring? in one little body

Thou counterfeit'ft a bark, a fea, a wind;

For fill thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this falt flood: the winds thy fighs,
Which, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a fudden calm, will overfet

Thy tempeft-toffed body-How now, wife?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

La. Cap. Ay, Sir; but fhe will none, fhe gives you
I would the fool were married to her grave! [thanks:
Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife.
How, will the none doth the not give us thanks ?
Is fhe not proud, doth the not count her blefs'd,
Unworthy as the is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
Jul. Not proud you have, but thankful that you
Proud can I never be of what I hate,

But thankful even for hate that is meant love.

[have.

Cap. How now! how now! Chop logic! what is Proud! and I thank you! and I thank you not! [this? And yet not proud!- Why, Mistress Minion you, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds; But fettle your fine joints 'gainft Thuriday next, Το go with Paris to Saint Peter's church:

Or