Nurfe Madam, Jul. Nurfe? Enter Nurfe. Nurfe. Your lady mother's coming to your clam ber: 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, O' by this count I fhall be much in years, Rom. Farewel: I will omit no opportunity, Adieu, adieu. SCENE [Exit Romeo. VIII. Jul. Oh 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: G 3 For For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, Enter Lady Capulet. La. Cap. Ho, daughter, are you up? Jl. Who is't that calls? Is is my lady mother? Is the not down fo late, or up fo`early? What unaccustom'd caufe 2 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 wash him from his Grave with tears? An' if thou couldft, thou couldft not make him live; Therefore, have done. Some Grief fhews much of But much of Grief fhews ftill fome want of Wit. Which you do weep for. Jul. Feeling fo the Lofs, I cannot chufe but ever weep the Friend. La. Cap Well, girl, thou weep'ft not fo much for his death, As that the villain lives which flaughter'd him. La. Cap. That fame villain, Romeo. Jul [Afide.] 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. 3, Madam, from the Reach of these my hands Would, none but I might venge my Cousin's Death! 2 -procures her kither?] -Procures, for beings. WARB. 3. I, Madam, from-] Juliet's equivocations are rather too artful for a mind difturbed by the lofs of a new lover. La. La. Cap. We will have Vengeance for it, fear thou not.. Then weep no more. I'll fend to one in Mantua, -O, how my heart abhors To hear him nam'd,-and cannot come to himTo wreak the Love I bore my Coufin, Upon his body that hath flaughter'd him. La. Cap. Find thou the Means, and I'll find fuch a But now I'll tell thee joyful Tidings, Girl. ful. And joy comes well in fuch a needful time. What are they, I befeech your ladyship? La. Cap. Well, well, thou haft a careful father, child, One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness, That thou expect'ft not, nor I look'd not for. 4 —unaccuf.om'd Dram,] In vulgar language, Shall give him a Dram which he is not used to. Though I have, if I miftake not, obferved, that in old books unaccustomed fignifies won G4 derful, powerful, eficacious. 5-in happy time,] A la bonne heure. This phrate was interiected, when the hearer was not quite fo well pleafed as the fpeaker. Jul. Jul. Now, by St. Peter's church, and Peter toơ, He shall not make me there a joyful bride. I wonder at this hafte, that I must wed Ere he, that must be hufband, comes to wooe. It fhall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, La. Cap. Here comes your father, tell him fo your And fee, how he will take it at your hands. Enter Capulet, and Nurfe. Cap. When the Sun fets, the Air doth drizzle But for the Sunset of my Brother's Son How now? a conduit, girl? what, ftill in tears? Thou counterfeit'ft a bark, a fea, a wind; Thy tempeft-toffed body-How now, wife? La. Cap. Ay, Sir; but he will none, fhe 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 fhe not give us thanks? Jul. 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. Proud! and I thank you! and I thank you not! Out, you green-fickness carrion! Out, you baggage! La. Cap Fy, fy, what, are you mad? ful. Good father, I befeech you on my knees, Hear me with patience, but to speak a word. Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! difobedient wretch ! I tell thee what, get thee to church o' Thursday, Speak not, reply not, do not answer me. My fingers itch. Wife, we fcarce thought us bleft, But now I fee this One is one too much, Nurfe. God in heaven bless her! You are to blame, my Lord, to rate her fo. Cap. And why? my lady Wisdom hold your tongue, Good Prudence, fmatter with your goffips, go. Nurse. I speak no treason-Ö, god-ye-good-den May not one speak? Cap. Peace, peace, you mumbling fool; Utter your gravity o'er a goffip's bowl, For here we need it not. La. |