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Enter olde Capolet.

Moth. Here comes your father, you may tell him fo.
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 barke,
Still floating in thy euerfalling teares,

And toft with sighes arifing from thy hart :

Will without fuccour fhipwracke presently.

But heare you wife, what haue you founded her, what faies fhe to it?

Moth. I haue, but she will none fhe thankes ye :

Would God that she were married to her graue.

Capo. What will fhe not, doth fhe not thanke vs, doth fhe not wexe proud?

Iul. 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.

Capo. 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 fettle 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 ficknes baggage, out you tallow face.
Iul. Good father heare me fpeake.

She kneeles done.

Cap. I tell thee what, eyther refolue on Thursday next To goe with Paris to faint 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 bleft
That God had fent vs but this onely chyld:

But

But now I fee 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 fo.

Cap. And why my lady wifedome? hold your tung, Good prudence fmatter with your goffips, goe.

Nur. Why my lord I fpeake no treason.

Cap. Oh goddegodden.

Vtter your grauity ouer a goffips boule,
For here wee need it not.

Mo. My lord ye are too hotte.

Cap. Gods bleffed mother wife it mads me,
Day, night, early, late, at home, abroad,
Alone, in company, waking or fleeping,
Still my care hath beene to fee her matcht.
And hauing now found out a gentleman,
Of princely parentage, youthfull, and nobly trainde.
Stuft as they fay with honorable parts,
Proportioned as ones heart coulde wish a man:
And then to haue a wretched whyning foole,

A puling mammet in her fortunes tender,

To fay 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, aduife, bethinke your felfe,

If you be mine, Ile giue you to my frend:

If not, hang, drowne, ftarue, beg,
Dye in the streetes: for by my foule

Ile neuer more acknowledge thee,

Nor what I haue shall euer doe thee good,

Thinke ont, looke toot, I doe not vse to iest :

Exit.

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Iul. 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 affured I will not fpeake a word.

Do what thou wilt for I haue done with thee.

me.

Exit.

Iul. Ah nurfe what comfort? what counsell canft thou giue

Nur. Now truft me madame, I know not what to fay: 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 difhclout
In refpect of him. I promise you

I thinke you happy in this fecond match.

As for your hufband he is dead:

haue no vse of him.

Or twere as good he were, for you
Iul. Speakft thou this from thy heart?

Nur. I and from my foule, or els befhrew them both.
Iul. Amen.

Nur. What fay you madame?

Iul. Well, thou haft comforted me wondrous much,

I pray thee goe thy waies vnto my mother

Tell her I am gone hauing difpleafde my father,
To fryer Laurence cell to confesse me,

And to be abfolu'd.

Nur. I will, and this is wifely done.

Shee lookes after nurse.

Iul. Auncient damnation, O most curfed fiend.
Is it more finne to wifh me thus forfworne,
Or to difpraise him with the felfe fame tongue

That

That thou haft praisde him with aboue compare
So many thousand times? Goe counsellor,
Thou and my bofom henceforth fhal be twaine.
Ile to the fryer to know his remedy,

If all faile els, I haue the power to dye.

Enter Fryer and Paris.

Fr. On Thursday fay ye: the time is very short,
Par. My father Capolet will haue it fo,

And I am nothing flacke to flow his haft.

Fr. You fay you doe not know the ladies minde?
Vneuen is the course, I like it not.

Par. Immoderately fhe weepes for Tybalts death,
And therefore haue I little talkt of loue.
For Venus ímiles not in a house of teares,
Now fir, her father thinkes it daungerous :
That she doth giue her forrow fo much fway.
And in his wifedome hafts 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 reafon of this haft.

Fr. I would I knew not why it should be flowd.

Enter Paris.

Heere comes the lady to my cell,

Par. Welcome my loue, my lady and my wife :
Iu. That may be fir, when I may be a wife,

Par. That may be, must be loue, on Thursday next.
Jul. What must be shal be.

Fr. Thats a certaine text.

Par. What come ye to confeffion to this fryer.
lu. To tell you that were to confesse to you.

Exit.

Par.

Par. Do not deny to him that

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Iul. I will confeffe to you that I love him,

Par. So I am fure you 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 foule, thy face is much abus'd with teares.
Iul. The teares haue got small victory by that,
For it was bad enough before their spite.

Par. Thou wrongft it more than teares by that report.
Iu. That is no wrong fir, that is a truth:

And what I fpake I fpake it to my face.

Par. Thy face is mine and thou hast slaundred it. lu. It may be fo, for it is not mine owne.

Are you at leasure holy father now:

Or fhall I come to you at euening maffe?

Fr. My leafure ferues me penfiue daughter now, My lord we must entreate the time alone.

Par. God fheild I fhould disturbe deuotion, Juliet farwell, and keep this holy kisse.

Exit Paris.

Iu. Goe fhut the doore and when thou haft done fo, Come weepe with me that am past cure, past help,

Fr. Ah Juliet I already know thy griefe,

I heare thou muft and nothing may proroge it,
On Thursday next be married to the countie.

lul. Tell me not frier that thou hearst of it,
Vnleffe thou tell me how we may preuent it.
Giue me fome fudden counfell: els behold
Twixt my extreames and me, this bloodie knife
Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that
Which the commiffion of thy yeares and arte
Could to no iffue of true honour bring.

Speake not, be briefe: for I defire to die,
If what thou speakst, speake not of remedie.

Fr.

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