Jackson conjectures that the to of all the editions should be too. But the meaning is obvious as it stands:

"I am nothing slow, (so as) to slack his haste."

PAR. Come you to make confession to this father?
JUL. To answer that, I should confess to you.
PAR. Do not deny to him, that you love me.
JUL. I will confess to you, that I love him.
PAR. So will you, I am sure, that you love me.
JUL. If I do so, it will be of more price,

Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
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, which 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.—
Are you at leisure, holy father, now;

Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

FRI. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now :—
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.

JUL. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me: Past hope, past care, 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 county. JUL. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:

[Aside.

[Exit PARIS.

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 ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
Shall be the label to another deed,

Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both:
Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time",
Give me some present counsel; or, behold,
"Twixt my extremes 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 slay thyself,
Then is it likely thou wilt undertake

A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That cop'st with death himself to 'scape from it;
And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.
JUL. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder 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-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling 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 shroudc;

Things that, to hear them told, have made me 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; for no pulse
Shall keep his native progress, but surceasea.
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;
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,

Shall, stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death:
And in this borrow'd likeness 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 rouse 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 46,
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets liec.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift;
And hither shall he come; and he and I
Will watch thy wakingd, and that very night

Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.

And this shall free thee from this present shame;
If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,

Abate thy valour in the acting 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.

We give the text of (C) and the folio. This speech of the Friar, in the author's "amended" edition (B), is elaborated from thirteen lines to thirty-three; and yet the modern editors have been bold enough, even here, to give us a text made up of Shakspere's first thoughts and his last. In (D), paly; in (C), many,

• In all the ancient copies we have the passage thus:

"In thy best robes, uncover'd, on the bier,

Be borne to burial in thy kindred's grave,

Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault."

We omit the superfluous line, unwilling as we are to depart from the original.
And he and I will watch thy waking, is omitted in the folio, but is found in (C).

SCENE II.—A Room in Capulet's House.

Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, NURSE, and Servants.

CAP. So many guests invite as here are writ.—

Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks 47.

[Exit Servant.

2 SERV. 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, 't is an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me.

CAP. Go, begone.

We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.

What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence?

NURSE. Ay, forsooth.

CAP. Well, he may chance to do some good on her:

A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.

Enter JULIET.

NURSE. See, where she comes from shrift with merry look.

CAP. How now, my headstrong? where have you been gadding?

JUL. Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin

Of disobedient opposition

To you, and your behests; and am enjoin'd
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
To beg your pardon:-Pardon, I beseech you!
Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.

CAP. Send for the county; go tell him of this;

I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
JUL. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
And gave him what becomed 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 sort 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.

LA. CAP. We shall be short in our provision;

"Becomed-becoming.

[Exit Servant.

[Exeunt JULIET and NURSE.