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Nurfe Madam,

Jul. Nurfe?

Enter Nurfe.

Nurfe. Your lady mother's coming to your clam


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!


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,
Than may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Jul. O think'ft thou, we fhall ever meet again?
Rom. I doubt it not; and all thefe woes fhali ferve
For fweet difcourfes, 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.

Adieu, adieu.


[Exit Romeo.


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 then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But fend him back..

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


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An' if thou couldft, thou couldft not make him live; Therefore, have done. Some Grief fhews much of

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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

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.
Jul. What villain, Madam?

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


Would, none but I might venge my Cousin's Death!


-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. Cap. We will have Vengeance for it, fear thou


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Then weep no more. I'll fend to one in Mantua,
Where that fame banish'd Runagate doth live,
Shall give him fuch an unaccuftom'd Dram,
That he shall foon keep Tybalt Company.
And then, I hope, thou wilt be fatisfy'd.
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 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,
Hath forted out a fudden day of joy,

That thou expect'ft 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.

4 —'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


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.


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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.
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 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
It rains downright.

How now? a conduit, girl? what, ftill in tears?
Evermore fhow'ring? in one little body

Thou counterfeit'ft a bark, a fea, a wind;
For ftill thy eyes, which I may call the fea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this falt flood; the winds thy fighs,
Which, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a fudden calm will overfet

Thy tempeft-toffed body-How now, wife?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

La. Cap. Ay, Sir; but he will none, fhe gives
you thanks.

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?
Is fhe not proud, doth fhe not count her bleft,
Unworthy as the 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 Logick? 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 fettle 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 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,
Or never after look me in the face.

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me.

My fingers itch. Wife, we fcarce thought us bleft,
That God hath fent us but this only child;

But now I fee this One is one too much,
And that we have a Curfe in having her:
Out on her, hilding!-

Nurfe. God in heaven bless her!

You are to blame, my Lord, to rate her fo.

Cap. And why? my lady Wisdom hold your


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.


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