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La. Cap. Fye, fye! what are you mad?
Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
Cap. Hang thee, young baggage disobedient
I tell thee what, get thee to church o'Thursday,
Nurse. 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; smatter with your gossips, go.
Nurse. I speak no treason.
Cap. O, God ye good den!
Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's howl,
La. Cap. You are too hot.
At home, abroad, alone, in company,
3 Base woman,
Stuff'd (as they say,) with honourable parts,
Some comfort, nurse.
Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo
Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
Nurse. From my soul too; Or else beshrew them both.
Jul. Amen :
Nurse. To what?
Jul. Well, thou hast comforted memarvellous much, Go in; and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, To make confession, and to be absolv’d.
Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
Jul. Ancient damnation' O most wicked fiend! Is it more sin—to wish me thus forsworn, Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she 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;
Enter Friar LAURENCE and PAR1s.
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. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. [Aside, Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.
Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife
Par. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday next. Jul. What must be shall be.
Fri. That's a certain text. Par. Come you to make confession to this father Jul. To answer that, were to 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 you, 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 that report. Jul. That is no slander, sir, that is a truth 5 And what I spake, I spake it to my face. Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. 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 2 Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now :My lord, we must entreat the time alone. Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion – Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you : Till then, adieu ! and keep this holy kiss. w [Exit PARIs. Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast doneso, Come weep with me; Past hope, past cure, past help! Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; It strains me past the compass of my wits: