Paris. Of honourable reckoning are you both;
And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
2
Capulet. But saying o'er what I have said before:
My child is yet a stranger in the world;
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,
Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
Paris. Younger than she are happy mothers made.
3
Capulet. Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our daughter:
Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I:—Well, we were born to die.
'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night:
I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
Paris. These times of woe afford no time to woo.
Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.
4
Capulet. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled
In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next—
But, soft! what day is this?
Paris. Monday, my lord,
5
Capulet. Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,
O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl.
Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
We'll keep no great ado,—a friend or two;
For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much:
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
Paris. My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.
6
Friar Laurence. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
Paris. My father Capulet will have it so;
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
7
Friar Laurence. You say you do not know the lady's mind:
Uneven is the course, I like it not.
Paris. 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.
8
(stage directions). [Enter JULIET]
Paris. Happily met, my lady and my wife!
9
Juliet. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
Paris. That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.
10
Friar Laurence. That's a certain text.
Paris. Come you to make confession to this father?
11
Juliet. To answer that, I should confess to you.
Paris. Do not deny to him that you love me.
12
Juliet. I will confess to you that I love him.
Paris. So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.
13
Juliet. If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
Paris. Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.
14
Juliet. The tears have got small victory by that;
For it was bad enough before their spite.
Paris. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.
15
Juliet. That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
Paris. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.
16
Friar Laurence. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
Paris. God shield I should disturb devotion!
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye:
Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss.
17
Capulet. Ready to go, but never to return.
O son! the night before thy wedding-day
Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies,
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,
And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's.
Paris. Have I thought long to see this morning's face,
And doth it give me such a sight as this?
18
Nurse. O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day, most woful 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 woful day, O woful day!
Paris. Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!
O love! O life! not life, but love in death!
19
(stage directions). [Enter PARIS, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch]
Paris. Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof:
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,
Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
20
(stage directions). [Retires]
Paris. Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,—
O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;—
Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,
Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans:
The obsequies that I for thee will keep
Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.
[The Page whistles]
The boy gives warning something doth approach.
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
To cross my obsequies and true love's rite?
What with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile.
21
(stage directions). [Opens the tomb]
Paris. This is that banish'd haughty Montague,
That murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief,
It is supposed, the fair creature died;
And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.
[Comes forward]
Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague!
Can vengeance be pursued further than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.
22
Romeo. I must indeed; and therefore came I hither.
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;
Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone;
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
Put not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury: O, be gone!
By heaven, I love thee better than myself;
For I come hither arm'd against myself:
Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say,
A madman's mercy bade thee run away.
Paris. I do defy thy conjurations,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.
23
(stage directions). [Exit]
Paris. O, I am slain!
[Falls]
If thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
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