« AnteriorContinuar »
Jul. What must be shall be.
That's a certain text.
Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price,
Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears.
Jul. The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough, before their spite. Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that
report. Jul. That is no slander, sir, that is a truth; And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.
Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own.-
Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter,
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
Par, God shield, I should disturb devotion! Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you: 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
Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this,
Fri. Hold, daughter; I do spy a kind of hope,
That cop'st with death himself to scape from it;
Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
tremble; And 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 lie alone, Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: Take thou this phial, being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off: When, presently, through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep His natural progress, but surcease to beat : No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st; The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall, Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
Each part, depriv'd of supple government,
Jul. Give me, O give me! tell me not 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. Farewell, dear father!
A Room in Capulet's House.
Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, Nurse, and
[Exit Servant. Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.
2 Sero. You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they can lick their fingers.
Cap. How canst thou try them so ?
2 Serv. 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, begone.
[Exit Servant. We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence?
Nurse. Ay, forsooth.
Enter JULIET. Nur. See, where she comes from shrift 54 with
Cap. How now, my headstrong? where have you
been gadding? Jul. Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin