To hear him nam'd,-and cannot come to him,- Lady C. Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man. But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time: What are they, I beseech your ladyship? Lady C. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child : One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness, Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for. Lady C. Here comes your father; tell him so yourself, And see how he will take it at your hands. Enter CAPULET and Nurse. Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew ; But for the sunset of my brother's son, It rains downright. How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? Thy tempest-tossed body.--How now, wife? Lady C. Ay, sir; but she will none, she 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 she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count her bless'd, 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-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 saint Peter's church, Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage! You tallow face! Lady C. 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 wretch! 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 scarce thought us bless'd, 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. Nurse. May not one speak? Cap. O God, ye good den! Peace, you mumbling fool: Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl, For here we need it not. Lady C. You are too hot. Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad: Day, night, At home, abroad, alone, in company, [late, early, Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, [Exit. [Exit. Jul. O God! O nurse! how shall this be prevented? My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; What say'st thou hast thou not a word of joy? Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, madam, Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart? Or else beshrew them both. Jul. Nurse: From my soul too'; Amen! To what? Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in; and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [Exit. 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; If all else fail, myself have power to die. [Ex it. SCENE I. Friar LAURENCE'S Cell. Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS. Fri. You say, you do not know the lady's mind; 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. |