Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

Out, you green-ficknefs carrion! out, you baggage!
You tallow-face!

La. Cap. Fie, fie, what, are you mad?

Jul. Good father, I befeech you on my knees,
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! difobedient wretch!
I tell thee what, get thee to church o' Thursday,
Or never after look me in the face.

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;

My fingers itch. Wife, we fcarce thought us bless'd
That God had fent us but this only child;

But now I fee this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her:
Out on her, hilding!

Nurfe. God in heaven blefs her !

You are to blame, my Lord, to rate her fo.

Cap. And why, my Lady Wifdom? hold your tongue,
Good Prudence, fmatter with your goflips, go.
Nurfe. I fpeak no treafon-O, god-ye-good-den-
May not one speak?

Cap. Peace, peace, you mumbling fool;
Utter your gravity o'er a goffip's bowl,
For here we need it not.

Là. Cap. You are too hot.

Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad: day, night,
At home, abroad, alone, in company, [late, early;
Waking, or fleeping, ftill my care hath been

To have her match'd; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,

Of fair demefnes, youthful, and nobly allied,
Stuff'd, as they fay, with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's thought would with a man
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
To answer, I'll not wed,-I cannot love,-
I am too young,- -I pray you pardon me.
But if you will not wed, I'll pardon you:

MECA

Grafe where you will, you fhall not house with me;
Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.
Thuriday is near; lay hand on heart, advise :
If you be mine, I'll give you to my friend:

if

If you be not, hang, beg, ftarve, die i' th' ftreets;
For, by my foul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine fhall ever do thee good.

Truft to't, bethink you, I'll not be forfworn. [Exit.
Jul. Is there no pity fitting in the clouds,
That fees into the bottom of my grief?
Ó, fweet my mother, caft 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.

La. 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 nurfe! how fhall this be prevented? My husband is on earth; my faith in heav'n; How fhall that faith return again to earth, Unless that husband send it me from heav'n,

By leaving earth?

Comfort me, counsel me. Alack, alack, that Heav'n fhould practife ftratagems Upon fo foft a subject as myself!

What fay'ft thou? haft thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort nurse

Nurfe. 'Faith, here it is:

Romeo is banith'd; all the world to nothing,
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then fince the cafe fo ftands, as now it doth,
I think it beft you married with the Count.
Oh, he's a lovely gentleman!

Romeo's a difh-clout to him; an eagle, Madam,
Hath not fo keen, fo quick, fo fair an eye'
As Paris hath. Befhrew my very heart,
I think you happy in this fecond match,
For it excels your firft; or if it did not,
Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
As living hence, and you no ufe of him.
Jul. Speak'st thou from thy heart!

Nurfe. And from my foul too,

Or elfe befhrew them both.

Jul. Amen.

Nurfe. What?

Jul. Well, thou haft comforted me marvellous much Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone,

Having difpleas'd my father, to Lawrence' cell,
To make confeffion, and to be absolved.

Nurfe. Marry, I will; and this is wifely done. [Exit. Ful. Ancient Damnation! O most wicked fiend! Is it more fin to wifh me thus forfworn, Or to difpraise my Lord with that fame tongue Which the hath prais'd him with above compare, So many thousand times? Go, counsellor, Thou and my bofom henceforth fhall be twain: I'll to the Friar, to know his remedy; If all elfe fail, myself have power to die.

[Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

The monaftery.

Fri.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris.

N Thurfday, Sir! the time is very short. Par. My father Capulet will have it fo, And I am nothing flow to flack his hafte.

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

Par Immoderately fhe weeps for Tybalt's death, And therefore have i little talk'd of love, For Venus fmiles not in a houfe of tears. Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous, That the fhould give her forrow fo much fway; And, in his wifdom, haftes our marriage, To top the inundation of her tears; Which, too much minded by herself alone, May be put from her by fociety

Now, do you know the reafon of this hafte?"

Fri. I would I knew not why it fhould be flow'd.

[Afide. Look, Sir, here comes the lady tow`rds my cell.

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, muft be, love, on Thursday next. Jul What must be, thall be.

Fri. That's a certain text.

VOL. VIII.

F

Pars

T

Par. Come you to make confeffion to this father?
Jul. To anfwer that, were to confefs to you.
Par. Do not deny to him that you love me,
Jul. I will confefs to you that I love him.
Par. So will ye, I am fure, that you love me.
Jul. If I do fo, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
Par. Poor foul, thy face is much abus'd with tears.
Jul. The tears have got small victory by that
For it was bad enough before their spight.

:

Par. Thou wrong'ft it more than tears, with that report

Jul. That is no flander, Sir, which is but truth;
And what I fpeak, I speak it to my face.

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast flander'd it.
Jul. It may be fo, for it is not mine own.
Are you at leifure, holy father, now;

Or fhall come to you at evening-mass?

Fri. My leisure ferves me. penfive daughter, now.
My Lord, I must intreat the time alone.

Par. God fhield 1 fhould disturb devotion.
Juliet, on Thurfday early will I rouse you :
Till then, adieu! and keep this holy kifs. [Exit Paris,
Jul. Go, fhut the door, and when thou haft done fo,
Come weep with me, paft hope, past cure, past help.
Fri. O Juliet, I already know thy grief;

It trains me paft the compafs of my wits.
I hear you 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 canft give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wife,
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 feal'd, ̧
Shall be the label to another deed,

Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this fhall flay them both.
Therefore, out of thy long experience'd time,
Give me fome prefent counfel; or, behold,
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife

.

Shall

Shall play the umpire; arbitrating that
Which the commiffion of thy years and art
Could to no iffue of true honour bring.
Be not fo long to fpeak; I long to die,
If what thou fpeak'st fpeak not of remedy.
Fri. Hold, daughter, I do 'fpy a kind of hope,
Which craves as defperate an execution,
As that is defp'rate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry County Paris,
Thou hast the ftrength or will to flay thyself,
Then it is likely thou wilt undertake

A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That cops with death himself, to 'fcape from it:
And if thou dar'ft, I'll give thee remedy

Jul O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or chain me to fome fteepy mountain's top,
Where roaring bears and favage lions roam;
Or (hut me nightly in a charnel house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead mens' rattling bones,
With reeky fhanks, and yellow chaplefs fculls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,

And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; (Things, that to hear them nam'd, have made me tremAnd I will do it without fear or doubt,

To live an unftain'd wife to my fweet love.

[ble);

Fri. Hold, then, go home, be merry, give confent To marry Paris; Wednesday is to-morrow; To-morrow night, look that thou lie alone, (Let not thy nurfe 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 fhall run A cold and drowfy humour, which shall seize Each vital fpirit; for no pulfe fhall keep His nat❜ral progrefs, but furceafe to beat. No warmth, no breath, fhall teftify thou livest; The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade To paly afhes; the eyes' windows fall, Like death, when he fhuts up the day of life; Each part, depriv'd of fupple government,

Shall stiff, and stark, and cold appear like death:

F 2

And