Puslapio vaizdai
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Jul. That is no Nander, Sir, which is but truth,
And what I speak, I speak it to my Face.
Par. Thy Face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.

may be so, for it is not mine own.
Are you at leisure, Holy Father, now,
Or shall I come to you at evening Mass ?

Fri. My leisure ferves me, pensive Daughter, now. My Lord, I must intreat the time alone.

Par. God shield, I should disturb Devotion : Juliet, on Thursday early will I rowze ye, Till then adieu, and keep this holy kiss. [Exit Paris,

Jul. O shut the Door, and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help.

Fri. O Juliet, I already know thy Grief,
It strains me past the compass of my Wits :
I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this Count.

Jul. Tell me not, Friar, that thou hearest of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:
If in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my Resolution wise,
And with this Knife I'll help it presently.
God join'd my Heart and Romeo's, thou our Hands,
And e'er this hand, by thee to Romeo scald,
Shall be the Label to another Deed,
Or my true Heart, with treacherous Revolt,
Turn to another, this shall say them both:
Therefore out of thy long experienc'd Time,
Give me some present Counsel, or behold
Twixt my extreams and me, this bloody Knife
Shall play the Umpire; arbitrating that,
Which the Commission of thy Years and Art
Could to no Issue of true Honour bring :
Be not so long to speak, I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak not of Remedy.

Fri. Hold, Daughter, I do 'spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an Execution,
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If rather than to marry County Paris,
Thou hast the strength of Will to say thy self,
Then it is likely, thou wilt undertake

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A thing like Death to chide away this shame,
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,
That cop'st with Death himself, to 'scape from it:
And if thou dar'ft, I'll give thee remedy.

Jul. O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, ,
From off the Battlements of any Tower,
Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk
Where Serpents are: Chain me with roaring Bears,
Or hide me nightly in a charnel House,
O'er covered quite with dead Mens ratling Bones,
With reeky Shanks, and yellow chapless Skulls :
Or bid me go into a new-made Grave,
And hide me with a dead Man in his Grave,
Things that to hear them told, have made me tremble,
Ard I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd Wife to my sweet Love.

Fri. Hold then. Go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris. Wednesday is to morrow;
To morrow Night look that thou lye alone,
Let not thy Nurse lye with thee in thy Chamber;
Take thou this Viol being then in Bed,
And this distilling Liquor drirk thou off,
When presently, through all thy Veins, shall run
A cold and drowsie Humour: For no Pulse
Shall keep his Native Progress, but surcease :
No warmth, no breath thall testifie thou livelt;
The Roses in thy Lips and Cheeks shall fade
To mealy Ashes, the Eyes Windows, fall
Like Death, when he shuts up the Day of Life ;
Each part depriv'd of supple Government,
Shall Niff and stark, and cold appear like Death,
And in this borrowed likenefs of shrunk Death,
Thou shalt continue two and forty Hours,
And then awake, as from a pleasant Sleep.
Now when the Bridegroom in the Morning comes
To rowse thee from thy Bed, there art thou Dead:
Then as the manner of our Country is,
In thy best Robes uncover'd on the Bier,
Be born to Burial in thy Kindreds Grave :
Thou shalt be born to that fame antient Vault,
Where all the Kindred of the Capulets lye.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,

Shall

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Shall Romeo by my Letters know our Drift,
And hither shall he come; and that very Night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present Shame,
If no unconstant Toy nor Womanish fear,
Abate thy Valour in the a&ing it.

Jul. Give me, give me, o tell not me of fear.

Fri. Hold, get you gone, be strong and prosperous
In this resolve, I'll send a Friar with speed
To Mantua, with my Letters to thy Lord.

Jul. Love give me Strength, and strength shall help afford. Farewel, dear Father.

SCENE 11. Capulet's House.
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and two or three

Servants.
Cap. So many Guests invite as here are writ:
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning Cooks.

Ser. You shall have none ill, Sir, for I'll try if they can lick their Fingers.

Cap. How canst chou try them so?

Ser. Marry, Sir, 'tis an ill Cook that cannot lick his own Fingers : Therefore he that cannot lick his Fingers, goes not with me.

Cap. Go, be gone. We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time : What is my Daughter gone to Friar Lawrence?

Nur. Ay forsooth.

Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her, A peevish self-willd Harlotry it is.

Enter Juliet. Nur. See where she comes from Shrift, with merry look. Cap. How now, my Headftrong? Where have you been gadding?

Jul. Where I have learnt me to repent the Sin, of disobedient Opposition, To you and your

behests; and am enjoyn'd By holy Lawrence, to fall proftrate here,

To

To beg your Pardon: Pardon I beseech you,
Henceforward I am ever ruld by you.

Cap. Send for the Count, go, tell him of this,
I'll have this Knot knit up to morrow morning.

Jul. I met the youthful Lord at Lawrence Cell,
And gave him what becoming Love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of Modesty.

Cap. Why I am glad on't, this is well, stand up,
This is as't should be, let me see the County :
Ay marry, go I say, and fetch him hither.
Now afore God, this reverend Holy Friar,
All our whole City is much bound to him.
Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my Closet,

,
To help me fort such needful Ornaments,
As
you

think fit to furnish me to morrow ? La. Cap. No not’till Thursday, there is time enough. Cap. Go Nurse, go with her; We'll to Church to morrow. [Exeunt Juliet and Nurse.

La. Cap. We shall be short in our Provision; 'Tis now near Night.

Cap. Tush, I will stir about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, Wife:
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her,
I'll not to bed to Night, let me alone :
I'll play the Huswife for this once. What ho?
They are all forth; well I will walk my self
To County Paris, to prepare him up
Against to morrow. My Heart is wondrous Light,
Since this fame way-ward Girl is so reclaim'd.

[Exeunt Capulet and Lady Cap.

SCENE III. Juliet's Chamber.

Enter Juliet and Nurse.
Íul. Ay, those Atrires are best; but, gentle Nurse,
I pray thee leave me to my self to Night :
For I have need of many Orisons,
To move the Heavens to smile upon my state,
Which well thou know'st is cross and full of Sin.

Vol. V

Enter

Enter Lady Capulet.
La. Cap. What are you búsie, ho ? Need you my help?

Jul. No, Madam, we have cuild fuch Neceffaries
As are behoveful for our state to morrow :
So please you, let me now be left alone,
And let the Nurse this Night fit up with you;
For I am sure you have your Hands full all,
In this so sudden Business.

Mo. Good night,
Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need. [Exeunt.

Jul. Farewel;
God knows, when we shall meet again.
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
That almoft freezes up the heat of Fire:
I'll call them back again to comfort me.
Nurse what should she do here?
My dismal Scene, I needs must ad alone:
Come Vial to what if this Mixture do not work at all
Shall I be married to morrow Morning ?
No, no, this shall forbid it; Lye thou there.

(Pointing to a Dagger.
What if it be a Poison, which the Friar,
Subtilly hath ministred, to have me dead,
Lest in this Marriage he should be dishonourd,
Because he married me before to Romeo ?
I fear it is, and yet methinks it should not,
For he hath still been tried a Holy Man.
How, if when I am laid into the Tomb,
I wake before the time, that Romeo
Come to redeem me? There's a fearful Point !

а Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault, To whose foul Month no healthsome Air breaths in, And there die strangled e'er my Romeo comes? Or if I live, it is not very like, The horrible conceit of Death and Night, Together with the Terror of the place, As in a Vault, an ancient Receptacle, Where, for these many hundred Years, the Bones Of all my buried Ancestors are packt; Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in Earth, Lies feftring in his Shrowd; where, as they say, At some Hours in the Night, Spirits resort --- Alack,

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