1 Or to difpraise my Lord with that same tongue ACT IV. [Exit. SCENE I. N Thursday, Sir? The time is very short. Fri. You fay, you do not know the lady's mind: Uneven is this courfe, I like it not. Par. Immoderately fhe weeps for Tybalt's death, Now do you know the reafon of this hafte? [Afide. Look, Sir, here comes the lady tów'rds my cell. 8 And I am, &c.] His hafie fball not be abated by my flowness. It might be read, And I am nothing flow to back bis bafie. That is, I am diligent to abet and enforce his hafte. Enter Enter Juliet. 9 Par. Welcome, my love, my lady and my wife! Jul. That may be, Sir, when I may be a wife. Par. That may be, muft be, Love, on Thursday next. Jul. What must be, fhall be. Fri. That's a certain text. Par. Come you to make confeffion to this father? Jul. To answer that, I fhould confefs to you. Par. Do not deny to him, that you love me. Jul. I will confefs to you, that I love him. Par. So will ye, I am fure, that you love me. Jul. If I do fo, it will be of more price Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. Par. Poor foul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Jul. The tears have got small victory by that: For it was bad enough before their spight. Par. Thou wrong'ft it, more than tears, with that report. Jul. That is no flander, Sir, which is but truth, And what I fpeak, I speak it to my face. Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hath flander'd it. Jul. It may be fo, for it is not mine own. Are you at leifure, holy father, now, Or fhall I come to you at evening mafs? Fri. My leifure ferves me, penfive daughter, now. My Lord, I must intreat the time alone. Par. God fhield, I fhould difturb devotion. Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouze you; Till then, adieu! and keep this holy kifs. [Exit Paris. Jul. Go, fhut the door, and when thou haft done fo. Come weep with me, past, hope, past cure, past help. my lady and my wife!] As these four first lines feem intend. ed to rhyme, perhaps the au thour wrote thus, life! Fri. O Juliet, I already know thy grief, It ftrains me paft the Compafs of my Wits. I hear, you must, and nothing may prorogue it,:0 On Thursday next be married to this County. 90 Jul. Tell me not, Friar, that thou heard'st 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 refolution wife, : And with this knife I'll help it presently. A God join'd my heart and Romeo's; thou our hands; Or my true heart with treacherous revolt A thing like death to chide away this fhame, Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, Or chain me to fome fteepy mountain's top, O'er-cover'd quite with dead mens' rattling bones, And hide me with a dead man in his fhroud; Things, that to hear them nam'd, have made me tremble, And I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unftain'd wife to my fweet 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 Nurfe lie with thee in thy chamber. Take thou this phial, being then in Bed, And this diftilled liquor drink thou off; When presently through all thy veins fhall run A cold and drowfy humour, which fhall feize Each vital fpirit; for no Pulfe fhall keep His natʼral progrefs, but furceafe to beat. No warmth, no breath, fhall teftify thou liv'ft; The roles in thy lips and cheeks fhall fade To paly afhes: thy eyes' windows fall, Like death, when he fhuts up the day of life; Each Part, depriv'd of fupple Government, Shall stiff, and stark, and cold appear, like Death: And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, And then awake, as from a pleasant sleep. • Or chain me, &c.] Or walk in thievish ways, or Where ferpents are, chain me POPE. My edition has the words which Mr. Pope has omitted; but the old copy feems in this place preferable, only perhaps we might better read, Where favage bears and roaring lions roum. Now Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes In thy beft robes uncover'd on the bier, Jul. Give me, oh give me. 1 Tell me not of fear. [Taking the phial. Fri. Hold, get you gone. Be ftrong and profperous In this Refolve; I'll fend a Friar with speed To Mantua, with my letters to thy Lord. Jul. Love, give me ftrength, and ftrength fhall help afford. Farewel, dear father !———— SCENE II. Changes to Capulet's House. [Exeunt, Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurfe, and two or three Cap. So Servants. many guests invite, as here are writ; Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. Serv. You fhall have none ill, Sir, for I'll try if they can lick their fingers. |