The law, that threatened death, becomes thy friend,

And turns it to exile; there art thou happy :
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,
Thou frown'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed;
Ascend her chamber; hence and comfort her:
But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.
Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
Romeo is coming.

Nurse. O, Lord, I could have stayed here all the night,

To hear good counsel. O, what learning is!
My, lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide! Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bade me give you, sir:

Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

[Exit Nurse.

Every good hap to you that chances here. Give me thy hand; 't is late: farewell; good night.

Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me, It were a grief so brief to part with thee.. Farewell.

SCENE IV. A Room in CAPULET'S House.

Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS.

Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily, That we have had no time to move our daughter. Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I:- well we were born to die. · "Tis very late; she 'll not come down to-night. I promise you, but for your company,

I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

Par. These times of woe afford no time to woo. Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.

Lady C. I will, and know her mind early to

morrow;

To-night she 's mewed up to her heaviness.

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not. Wife, go you to her ere you go to-bed; Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love; And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday nextBut soft, what day is this? Par. Monday, my lord.

Cap. Monday? ha! ha! Well, Wednesday is

too soon;

O' Thursday let it be:o' Thursday tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl. -
Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
We'll keep no great ado: a friend or two:
For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much:

Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear: Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree. Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn; No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light is not daylight; I know it, I: It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torchbearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua: Therefore, stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone. Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content so thou wilt have it so. I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye, "T is but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads. I have more care to stay than will to go: Come death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. How is 't my soul? let's talk; it is not day. Jul. It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away: It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say, the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, for she divideth us:

Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your chamber:

The day is broke: be wary, look about.

[Exit Nurse. Jul. Then window let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. [ROMEO descends. Jul. Art thou gone so? love! lord! ay, husband, friend!

I must hear from thee every day i' the hour,
For in a minute there are many days:
O! by this count I shall be much in years
Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Jul. O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again?
Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall

serve

For sweet discourses in our time to come.

Jul. O God, I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. Rom. And trust me, love, in my eyes so do

you:

Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!

[Exit ROMEO.

Jul. O fortune, fortune; all men call thee

fickle;

Enter LADY CAPULET.

Lady C. Why, how now, Juliet?

Jul.

Madam, I am not well.

death?

What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?

An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him

live;

hands.

'Would none but I might venge my cousin's

death!

Lady C. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not:

Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,
Where that same banished runagate doth live,
Shall give him such an unaccustomed dram,
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 vexed:
Madam, if you could but find out 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

Enter CAPULET and Nurse.

Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;

But for the sunset of my brother's son,
It rains downright.

How now a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
Evermore showering? In one little body
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind:
For still thy eyes, which I
call the sea,
may
Do ebb and flow with tears: the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood: the winds, thy sighs;
Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a sudden calm will overset

Thy tempest-tosséd body. - How now, wife!
Have you delivered to her our decree?

Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the County.
O, he's a lovely gentleman!

Romeo's a dishclout to him. An eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye,
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first: or if it did not,
Your first is dead; or 't were as good he were,
As living here, and you no use of him.
Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
Nurse. From my soul too;

Or else beshrew them both.

Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvelous much.

Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeased my father, to Laurence's cell,
To make confession, and to be absolved.
Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
[Exit.

Jul. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath praised him with above compare
So many thousand times? - Go, counselor;
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.
I'll to the Friar, to know his remedy:

If all else fail, myself have power to die. [Exit.

SCENE I.FRIAR LAURENCE'S Cell.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS. Fri. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. Par. My father Capulet will have it so; And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste.

Fri. You say you do not know the lady's mind:

Uneven is the course; I like it not.

Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,

And therefore have I little talked of love;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway,
And in his wisdom hastes our marriage
To stop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society.
Now do you know the reason of this haste.
Fri. I would I knew not why it should be
slowed.
[Aside.
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

Enter JULIET.

Par. Happily met, my lady and my wife! Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.