Of my child's love: I think, fhe will be rul'd
In all refpects 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, foft; what day is this?

Par. Monday, my lord.

[foon,

Cap. Monday? Ha ha! well, Wednesday is too
On Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her,
She fhall be married to this noble Earl.

Will you be ready? Do you like this Hafte?
We'll keep no great a-do-
-a friend or two-

For, hark you, Tybalt being flain fo late,
It may be thought we held him carelefly,
Being our kinfmen, if we revel much:

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

morrow.

to

Cap. Well, get you gone on Thursday 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 looking to the Garden.

Enter Rome and Juliet, above at a window; and a ladder

Jul.

WILT

of ropes fet.

ILT thou be gone? it is not yet near
day:

It was the Nightingale, and not the Lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;

I 2

Nightly

Nightly fhe 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 fireaks
Do lace the fevering clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the mifty 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 Sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua ;
Then ftay a while, thou fhalt not go fo foon.
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 gray is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whofe notes do beat
The vaulty heav'ns fo 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 Soul? let's talk, it is not day.

Jul. It is, it is; hie hence, be gone, away:
It is the lark that fings fo out of tune,
Straining barfh difcords, and unpleafing fharps.
Some fay, the lark makes sweet division;
This doth not fo: for fhe divideth us.

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

O now I would they had chang`d voices too!] The Toad having very fine eyes, and the Lark very ugly ones, was the Occasion of a common Saying among the People, that' the Toad and Lark had changed Eyes. To this the Speaker alludes. How natural was it for her after this to add,

Some fay the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
O, now I wot they had chang'd voices too.

Warb.

Enter

Enter Nurfe.

Nurfe. Madam,

Jul. Nurfe?

Nurfe. Your lady mother's coming to your chamber: The day is broke, be wary, look about. [Exit Nurfe. Jul. Then, Window, let Day in, and let Life out. Rom. Farewel, farewel; one Kifs, and I'll defcend. [Romeo defcends.

Jul. Art thou gone fo? love! lord! ah husband!

friend !

I must hear from thee ev'ry day in th' hour,
For in a minute there are many days.

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

Rom. Farewel: I will omit no opportunity,

That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Jul. O think't thou, we fhall ever meet again?
Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes fhall ferve
For fweet discourses, 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'st pale.

Rom. And truft me, love, in mine eye fo do you: Dry Sorrow drinks our blood.

Jul.

SCENE

Adieu, adieu.

[Exit Romeo.

VIII.

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?

I 3

Jul

Jul. 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 wafh him from his Grave with tears? An' if thou could'ft, thou could'ft 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.

La. Cap. So fhall you feel the Lofs, but not the Friend

Which you do weep for.

Jul. Feeltag fo the Lofs,

I cannot chufe but ever weep the Friend.

La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'ft not so much for his death.

As that the villain lives which flaughter'd him.
Jul. What villain, Madam?

La. Cap. That fame villain, Romeo.

Jul. Villain and he are many miles afunder. 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 thefe 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 such 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 dead

Is my poor heart fo for a Kinfman vext.
Madam, if You could find out but a Man
To bear a poison, I would temper it;

That Romeo fhould upon receipt thereof

Soon fleep in Quiet. O, how my heart abhors To hear him nam'd.-and cannot come to himTo wreak 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 Man.

But now I'll tell thee joyful Tidings, 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 muft wed
Ere he that must be husband, comes to woo.
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

at your hands.

Enter Capulet, and Nurfe.

Cap. When the Sun fets, the Air doth drizzle Dew;