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But for the Sunset of my Brother's Son
It rains downright.
How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears ;
Evermore Show'ring? in one little body
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind;
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears ; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this falt flood: the winds thy sighs,
Which, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a sudden calm, will overset
Thy tempeft-toffed body-How now, wife?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree ?
La. Cap. Ay, Sir; but she will none, she gives
I would, the fool were married to her Grave !
Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you,
How, will she none? doth she not give us thanks ?
Is she not proud, doth she not count her bleft,
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. How now! how now! Chop Logic ? What
is This? Proud! and I thank you! and I thank you not! And yet not proud!--Why, Mistress Minion, You, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next, To go
with Paris to St. Peter's church : Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-fickness-carrion! Out; you baggage ! You Tallow-face !
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. Hang thee, young baggage ! disobedient
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 blest,
That God hath sent us but this only child;
But now I see this One is one too much,
And that we have a Curse in having her:
Out on her, hilding !
Nurse. God in heaven bless her!
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
Cap. And why, my lady Wisdom? hold your
Good Prudence, fmatter with your gossips, go.
Nurse. I speak no treason-0, god-ye-good-den-
May not one speak ?
Cap. Peace, peace, you mumbling fool ;
Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,
For here we need it not.
La. Cap. You are too hot.
Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad: day, night.
At home, abroad, alone, in company,
Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been
To have her match'd; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,
Of fair demeasns, youthful, and nobly-allied,
Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's thought would wish 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:
will, shall not house with me; Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest. 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' streets ;
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall ever do thee good :
Trust to't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn. [Exit.
Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That fees into the bottom of my grief?
O, sweet my mother, caft me not away,
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed
In thai dim monument where Tybalt lies.
Lạ. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not fpeak a
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. (Exit.
Jul. O God! O Nurse, how shall this be prevented?
My husband is on Earth; my Faith in Heav'n;
How shall that Faith return again to Earth,
Unless that Husband fend it me from Heav'n,
By leaving Earth ? Comfort me, counsel me,
Alack, alack, that heav'n should practise strategems
Upon so soft a subject as myself!
What say'st thou? haft thou not a word of Joy?
Some Comfort, Nurse----
Nurse. Faith, here it is :
Romeo is banishd; all the world to nothing,
That be dares ne'er come back to challenge you ;
Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then since the case so stands, as now it doth,
I think it best, you married with the Count.
Oh, he's a lovely gentleman !
Romeo's a dish-clout to him: an eagle, Madam,
Hath not so keen, so quick, so fair an eye
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you happy in this second match,
For it excels your first; or if it did not,
Your first is dead; or 'were as good he were,
As living hence, and you no use of him.
Jul. Speak it thou from thy heart?
Nurse. And from my Soul too,
Or else beshrew them both.
Jul. Well, thou haft comforted me marvellous muchy Go in, and tell
I am gone,
Having displeasuhay father, to Lawrence' cell,
To make confession, and to be absolved.
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 the hath prais'd him with above compare,
So many thoufand times? go, Counsellor,
Thou and my bosom henceforth fall be twain :
I'll to the Friar, to know his remedy:
If all else fail, myself have power to die, [Exit.
N Thursday, Sir! the time is
short. Par. My father Capulet will have it so, And I am nothing flow to flack his haste.
Fri. You say, you do not know the lady's mind : Uneven in this course, I like it not.
Par. Immoderately the weeps for Tybalt's death, And therefore have I little talk'd of love, For Venus (miles not in a house of tears. Now, Sir, her father counts it dangerous, That she should give her forrow so much sway; And, in his wisdom, haftes 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 ibe reason of this haste ?
Fri. I would, I knew not why it should be flow'd.
[Afde. Look, Sir, here comes the lady te vius my cell.
Enter Juliet. Par. Welcome, my love, my lady and my wise ! Jul. That may be, Sir, when I may be a wife. Par. That may be, must be, Love, on Thursday Jul. What must be, fhall be.
next. 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 ye, 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 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'st it, more than tears, with that
report. Jul. That is no flander, Sir, which is but truth, And what I speak, I speak it to my face. Par. Thy face is mine, and thou haft flander'd it.
be so, for it is not mine own. Are you at leisure, holy father, now, Or shall I come to you at evening mass ?
Fri. My leisure ferves me, penlive daughter, now.. My lord, 1 must intreat the time alone.
Par. God shield, I should difturb devotion: Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you : Till then, adieu! and keep this holy kiss.