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Moth. Here comes your father, you may tell him so.
Capo. Why how now, euermore showring? In one little bodie thou resemblest a sea, a barke, a storme : For this thy bodie which I tearme a berke, Still floating in thy euerfalling teares, And tost with sighes arising from thy hart : Will without succour shipwracke presently. But heare you wife, what haue you sounded her, what faies
The to it?
Moth. I haue, but she will none she thankes ye : Would God that she were married to her graue.
Capo. What will she not, doth she not thanke vs, doth she not wexe proud ?
lul. Not proud ye haue, but thankfull that ye haue :
Proud can I neuer be of that I hate,
But thankfull euen for hate that is ment loue.
Gapo. Proud and I thanke you, and I thanke you not,
And yet not proud. Whats here, chop logicke.
Proud me no prouds, nor thanke me no thankes,
But settle your fine ioynts on Thursday next
To goe with Paris to faint Peters church,
Or I will drag you on a hurdle thether.
Out you greene sicknes baggage, out you tallow face.
Iul. Good father heare me spcake.
Cap. I tell thee what, eyther resolue on Thursday next
To goe with Paris to saint Peter's church :
Or henceforth neuer looke me in the face.
Speake not, reply not, for my fingers ytch.
Why wife, we thought that we were scarcely blest
That God had sent vs but this onely chyld:
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we haue a crosse in hauing her.
Nur. Mary God in heauen blesse her my lord,
You are too blame to rate her so.
Cap. And why my lady wisedome? hold your tung,
Good prudence smatter with your gossips, goe.
Nur. Why my lord I speake no treason.
Cap. Oh goddegodden.
Vtter your grauity ouer a gollips boule,
For here wee need it not.
Mo. My lord ye are too hotte.
Cap. Gods blessed mother wife it mads me,
Day, night, early, late, at home, abroad,
Alone, in company, waking or sleeping,
Still my care hath beene to see her matcht.
And hauing now found out a gentleman,
Of princely parentage, youthfull, and nobly trainde.
Stuft as they say with honorable parts,
Proportioned as ones heart coulde with a man:
And then to haue a wretched whyning foole,
A puling mammet in her fortunes tender,
To say I cannot loue, I am too young, I pray you pardon mee?
But if you cannot wedde Ile pardon you.
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me.
Looke to it, thinke ont, I do not vse to iest.
I tell yee what, Thursday is neere,
Lay hand on heart, aduise, bethinke your selfe,
If you be mine, Ile giue you to my frend :
If not, hang, drowne, starue, beg,
Dye in the streetes : for by my soule
Ile neuer more acknowledge thee,
Nor what I haue shall euer doe thee good,
Thinke ont, looke toot, I doe not vse to ieft:
lul. Is there no pitty hanging in the cloudes,
That lookes into the bottom of my woes?
I doe beseech you madame, cast me not away,
Defer this mariage for a day or two,
Or if you cannot, make my mariage bed
In that dimme monument where Tybalt lyes.
Moth. Nay be assured I will not speake a word.
Do what thou wilt for I haue done with thee.
Exit. Iul. Ah nurse what comfort? what counsell canst thou give
Nur. Now trust me madame, I know not what to say :
Your Romeo he is banisht, and all the world to nothing
He neuer dares returne to challendge you.
Now I thinke good you marry with this county,
Oh he is a gallant gentleman, Romeo is but a dishclout
In respect of him. I promise you
I thinke you happy in this second match.
As for your husband he is dead :
Or twere as good he were, for you haue no vse of him.
Iul. Speakst thou this from thy heart ?
Nur. I and from my soule, or els beshrew them both.
Nur. What say you madame?
Iul. Well, thou hast comforted me wondrous much,
I pray thee goe thy waies vnto my mother
Tell her I am gone hauing displeafde my father,
To fryer Laurence cell to confesse me,
And to be absolu'd.
Nur. I will, and this is wisely done.
Shee lookes after nurse.
Iul. Auncient damnation, O most cursed fiend.
Is it more finne to wish me thus forsworne,
Or to dispraise him with the selfe fame tongue
That thon haft praisde him with aboue compare
So many thousand times? Goe counsellor,
Thou and my bosom henceforth shal be twaine.
Ile to the fryer to know his remedy,
If all faile els, I haue the power to dye.
Fr. On Thursday say ye : the time is very short,
Par. My father Capolet will haue it so, And I am nothing flacke to Now his hast.
Fr. You say you doe not know the ladies minde?
Vaeuen is the course, I like it not.
Par. Immoderately she weepes for Tybalts death,
And therefore haue I little talkt of loue.
For Venus (miles not in a house of teares,
Now sir, her father thinkes it daungerous :
That she doth giue her forrow so much sway.
And in his wisedome hasts our mariage,
To stop the inundation of her teares.
Which too much minded by her felfe alone
May be put from her by focietie.
Now doe ye know the reason of this hast.
Fr. I would I knew not why it should be flowd.
Heere comes the lady to my cell,
Par. Welcome my loue, my lady and my wife :
lu. That may be fir, when I may be a wife,
Par. That may be, must be loue, on Thursday next.
lul. What must be shal be.
Fr. Thats a certaine text.
Par. What come ye to confession to this fryer.
Iu. To tell you that were to copfesse to you.
Par. Do not deny to him that you loue me. lul. I will confesse to you that I loue him, Par. So I am sure
will that you loue me. Iul. And if I doe it wil be of more price, Being spoke behinde your backe, than to your face.
Par. Poore soule, thy face is much abus'd with teares.
Iul. The teares haue got small victory by that,
For it was bad enough before their spitc.
Par. Thou wrongst it more than teares by that report.
lu. That is no wrong sir, that is a truth :
And what I spake I spake it to my face.
Par. Thy face is mine and thou hast llaundred it.
Iu. It may be fo, for it is not mine owne.
Are you at leasure holy father dow :
Or shall I come to you at euening masse ?
Fr. My leasure ferues me pensiue daughter now,
My lord we must entreate the time alone,
Par. God sheild I should disturbe deuotion, Iuliet farwell, and keep this holy kisse.
Exit Paris lu. Goe shut the doore and when thou hast done so, Come weepe with me that am past cure, past help,
Fr. Ah Iuliet I already know thy griefe,
I heare thou must and nothing may proroge it,
On Thursday next be married to the countie.
lul. Tell me not frier that thou hearst of it,
Vnlesle thou tell me how we may preuent it.
Giue me some sudden counsell : els behold
Twixt my extreames and me, thiş bloodie knife
Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that
Which the commiffion of thy yeares and arte
Could to no issue of true honour briog.
Speake not, be briefe: for I desire to die,
If what thou speakst, speake not of remedie.