For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, La. Cap. [Within.] Ho, daughter! are you up? Enter Lady Capulet. La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet? Jul. Madam, I am not well. La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? An if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him live; Therefore, have done: Some grief shows much of love; But much of grief shows still some want of wit. Which Jul. you weep for. Feeling so the loss, I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death, As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him. La Cap. That same villain, Romeo. Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder. 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 murderer lives. procures her hither?] Procures for brings. Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands. 'Would, none but I might venge my cousin's death! La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not: Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,That shall bestow on him so sure a draught, That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied. Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied With Romeo, till I behold him—dead— Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd:Madam, if you could find out but a man To bear a poison, I would temper it; That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, Soon sleep in quiet.-O, how my heart abhors To hear him nam'd,-and cannot come to him.To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him! La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man. But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time: What are they, I beseech your ladyship? La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness, Ay, madam, from, &c.] Juliet's equivocations are rather too artful for a mind disturbed by the loss of a new lover. JOHNSON. in happy time,] A la bonne heure. This phrase was interjected, when the hearer was not quite so well pleased as the speaker. La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn, The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, I I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear, La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him so yourself, And see how he will take it at your hands. Enter CAPULET and Nurse. Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? Thy tempest-tossed body.-How now, wife? 9 The county Paris,] Paris, though in one place called Earl, is most commonly stiled the Countie in this play. Shakspeare seems to have preferred, for some reason or other, the Italian Comte to our Count: perhaps he took it from the old English novel, from which he is said to have taken his plot; and in which Paris is first stiled a young Earle, and afterwards Counte, Countee, County; according to the unsettled orthography of the time. Have you deliver'd to her our decree? La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. I would, the fool were married to her grave! Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife. How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count her bless'd, Unworthy as she 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. is this? Proud,—and, I thank you,--and, I thank you not;- To go Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage! You tallow face! La. Cap. Fye, fye! what are you mad? Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word. Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient 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 scarce thought us bless'd, Nurse. God in heaven bless her! You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. Nurse. I speak no treason. Cap. Nurse. May not one speak? Cap. O, God ye good den! Peace, you mumbling fool! You are too hot. Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl, La. Cap. Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad: Day, night, late, early, At home, abroad, alone, in company, Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, |