La. Cap. Well girl, thou weep'ft not so much for his death, As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.

Jul. What villain, madam?

La. Cap. That fame villain, Romeo.

Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder.

La. Cap. Content thee girl. If I could find a man,

I foon would fend to Mantua where he is,

And give him such an unaccustom❜d dram
That he should foon keep Tybalt company.

Jul. Find you the means, and I'll find fuch a man,
For while he lives, my heart shall ne'er be light
'Till I behold him· dead- is my poor heart,
Thus for a kinsman vext?

La. Cap. Well, 'let that pass.

I come to bring thee joyful tydings, girl.

Jul. And joy comes well in fuch a needful time.
What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

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❜st not, nor I look'd not for.

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

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

The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,

The county Paris, at St. Peter's church,

Shall happily make thee a joyful bride.

Jul. Now by St. Peter's church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.

I wonder at this hafte, that I must wed
Ere he that must be husband comes to wooe.
I pray you tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet, and when I do,

It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,

Ra

Rather than Paris. These are news indeed.

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

Enter Capulet and nurse.

Cap. How now? a conduit, girl? what, ftill in tears? Evermore show'ring? in one little body

Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind;

For ftill thy eyes, which I may call the fea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is
Sailing in this salt 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 she will none, fhe 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 fhe not give us thanks?

Is the not proud? doth fhe not count her blest,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought

So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate,

But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.

Cap. Proud! and I thank you! and I thank you not!
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,

But fettle your fine joints 'gaiaft Thursday next,
To go with Paris to faint Peter's church:

Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

La. Cap. Fie, fie, what are you mad?
Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
Hear me with patience, but to speak a word.

Cap.

Cap. Hang thee, young baggage, disobedient wretch,
I tell thee what, get thee to church a Thursday,
Or never after look me in the face.

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me,

My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us bleft,
That God had fent us but this only child,
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curfe in having her:
Out on her, hilding.

Nurfe. God in heaven bless her:

You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,

Good prudence, fmatter with your goffips, go.

Nurse. I speak no treason

May not one speak?

Cap. Peace you mumbling fool,

O god-ye-good-den

Utter your gravity o'er a goffip's bowl,

For here we need it not.

La. Cap. You are too hot.

Cap. God's bread, it makes me mad: "day, night, late, early, At home, abroad; alone, in company,

Waking or fleeping; ftill my care hath been

To have her match'd; and having now provided

A gentleman of noble parentage,

Of fair demeans, youthful, and nobly allied,
Stuff'd as they say with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as ones thought would wish a man:
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortunes tender,
To answer, I'll not wed, I cannot love,
I am too young, I pray you pardon me----
■ Day, night, bour, tide, time, work, and play,
Alone, in company, ftill my care hath been &c.

But

But, if you will not wed, I'll pardon you:

Graze where you will, you shall not house with me:
Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jeft.

Thursday is near, lay hand on heart, advise;
If you be mine, I'll give you to my friend:

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:
Trust to't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn.

Jul. Is there no pity fitting in the clouds,
That fees into the bottom of my grief?
O 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 lyes.

[Exit.

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 nurse, how shall this be prevented? Alack, alack, that heav'n should practise stratagems Upon fo foft a fubject as my self.

Nurse. Faith here it is:

Romeo is banish'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 so green, so quick, so fair an eye
As Paris hath. Befhrew my very heart,

I think you happy in this second match,
For it excels your first; or if it did not,

Your

Your firft is dead, or 'twere as good he were,

As living here, and you no use of him.
Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?

Nurfe. And from my foul too,

Or else befhrew them both.

Jul. Amen.

Nurse. What?

Jul. Well, thou haft comforted me marvellous much;

Go in, and tell my lady I am gone,

Having displeas'd my father, to Lawrence' cell,
To make confeffion, and to be abfolved.

Nurse. Marry I will, and this is wifely done.

[Exit.

ful. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!

Is it more fin to wish me thus forsworn,

Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue

Which the 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, my self have power to die.

[Exit.

VOL. VI.

Rr

ACT