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Jul. That is no flander, Sir, which is but truth,
And what I fpeak, I fpeak it to my Face.

Par. Thy Face is mine, and thou haft flander'd it.
Jul. It may be fo, for it is not mine own.
Are you at leisure, Holy Father, now,
Or shall I come to you at evening Mafs?

Fri. My leifure ferves me, pentive Daughter, now.
My Lord, I muft intreat the time alone.

Par. God fhield, I fhould disturb Devotion:
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rowze ye,
Till then adieu, and keep this holy kifs.

[Exit Paris.

Jul. O fhut the Door, and when thou haft done fo,
Come weep with me, paft hope, paft cure, paft help.
Fri. Juliet, I already know thy Grief,
It ftrains me paft the compass of my Wits:
I hear thou muft, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this Count.
Jul. Tell me not, Friar, that thou heareft 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.
God join'd my Heart and Romeo's, thou our Hands,
And e'er this hand, by thee to Romeo feal'd,
Shall be the Label to arother Deed,
Or my true Heart, with treacherous Revolt,
Turn to another, this fhall flay them both:
Therefore out of thy long experienc'd Time,
Give me fome prefent Countel, or behold
'Twixt my extreams and me, this bloody Knife
Shall play the Umpire; arbitrating that,
Which the Commiffion of thy Years and Art
Could to no Iffue of true Honour bring:
Be not fo long to fpeak, I long to die,
If what thou speak'ft fpeak not of Remedy.
Fri. Hold, Daughter, I do 'fpy a kind of hope,
Which craves as defperate an Execution,
As that is defperate which we would
If rather than to marry County Paris,
Thou haft the ftrength of Will to flay thy felf,
Then it is likely, thou wilt undertake

prevent.

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A thing like Death to chide away this fhame,
That cop'ft with Death himself, to 'fcape from it:
And if thou dar'ft, I'll give thee remedy.

Jul. O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the Battlements of any Tower,
Or walk in thievifh ways, or bid me lurk
Where Serpents are: Chain me with roaring Bears,
Or hide me nightly in a charnel House,

O'er covered quite with dead Mens ratling 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 Grave,
Things that tear them told, 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 lye alone,
Let not thy Nurfe lye with thee in thy Chamber:
Take thou this Viol being then in Bed,
And this diftilling Liquor drink thou off,
When prefently, through all thy Veins, shall run
A cold and drowfie Humour: For no Pulfe
Shall keep his Native Progrefs, but furcease:
No warmth, no breath fhall teftifie thou liveft;
The Rofes in thy Lips and Cheeks fhall fade
To mealy Afhes, the Eyes Windows fall
Like Death, when he shuts up the Day of Life;
Each part depriv'd of fupple Government,
Shall ftiff and ftark, and cold appear like Death,
And in this borrowed likeness of fhrunk 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 rowfe thee from thy Bed, there art thou Dead:
Then as the manner of our Country is,
In thy beft Robes uncover'd on the Bier,
Be born to Burial in thy Kindreds Grave:
Thou shalt be born to that fame antient Vault,
Where all the Kindred of the Capulets lye.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,

Shall

Shall Romeo by my Letters know our Drift,
And hither shall he come; and that very Night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.

And this shall free thee from this prefent Shame,
If no unconftant Toy nor Womanish fear,
Abate thy Valour in the ating it.

Jul. Give me, give me, O tell not me of fear.
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 Strength, and ftrength fhall help afford. Farewel, dear Father.

SCENE II. Capulet's House.

Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and two or three

Servants.

Cap. So many Guefts invite as here are writ: Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning Cooks.

Ser. You fhall have none ill, Sir, for I'll try if they can like their Fingers.

Cap. How canft thou try them fo?

Ser. 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, be gone. We fhall be much unfurnish'd for this time: What, is my Daughter gone to Friar Lawrence? Nur. Ay forfooth.

Cap. Well, he may chance to do fome good on her, A peevish felf-will'd Harlotry it is.

Enter Juliet.

Nur. See where he comes from Shrift, with merry look Cap. How now, my Headstrong?

Where have you been gadding?

Jul. Where I have learnt me to repent the Sin,

Of difobedient Oppofition,

To you and your behefts; and am enjoyn'd

By holy Lawrence, to fall proftrate here,

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To beg your Pardon: Pardon I befeech you,
Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.

Cap. Send for the Count, 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 becoming Love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of Modefty.

Cap. Why I am glad on't, this is well, stand up,
This is as't fhould be, let me fee the County:
Ay marry, go I fay, and fetch him hither.
Now afore God, this reverend Holy Friar,
All our whole City is much bound to him.
Jul. Nurfe, will you go with me into my Closet,
To help me fort fuch needful Ornaments,
As you think fit to furnish me to morrow?
La. Cap. No not 'till Thufday, there is time enough.
Cap. Go Nurfe, go with her;

We'll to Church to morrow?

[Exeunt Juliet and Nurse.

La. Cap. We shall be fhort in our Provision; Tis now near Night.

Cap. Tufh, I will stir about,

And all things fhall be well, I warrant thee, Wife:
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her,

I'll not to bed to Night, let me alone:

I'll play the Hufwife for this once. What ho?
They are all forth; well I will walk my felf
To County Paris, to prepare him up

Againft to morrow. My Heart is wondrous Light,
Since this fame way-ward Girl is fo reclaim'd.

[Exeunt Capulet and Lady Cap.

SCENE III. Juliet's Chamber.

Enter Juliet and Nurfe.

Jul. Ay, thofe Attires are beft; but, gentle Nurfe, thee leave me to my felf to Night:

I pray

For I have need of many Orifons,

To move the Heav'ns to fmile upon my ftate,

Which well thou know'ft is crofs and full of Sin.

VOL. V.

F

Enter

Enter Lady Capulet.

La. Cap. What are you bufie, ho? Need you my help?
Jul. No, Madam, we have cull'd foch Neceffaries
As are behoveful for our ftate to morrow:

So please you, let me now be left alone,
And let the Nufe this Night fit up' with you;
For I am fure you have your Hands full all,
In this fo fudden Bufirefs.

La. Cap. Good Night,

Get thee to bed and reft, for thou haft need.
Jul. Farewel;

God knows, when we fhall meet again.

I have a faint cold fear thrills through my Veins,
That almoft freezes up the heat of Fire:

I'll call them back again to comfort me.

Nurfe

what fhould fhe do here?

My difmal Scene, I needs muft a&t alone:

[Exeunt.

Come Vial-what if this Mixture do not work at all?
Shall I be married to morrow Morning?

No, no, this fhall forbid it; Lye thou there.

[Pointing to a Dagger.
What if it be a Poifon, which the Friar,
Subtilly hath miniftred, to have me dead,
Left in this Marriage he should be dishonour'd,
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I fear it is, and yet methinks it should not,
For he hath ftill been tried a Holy Man.
How, if when I am laid into the Tomb,
I wake before the time, that Romeo

Come to redeem me? There's a fearful Point!
Shall I not then be ftifled in the Vault,

To whofe foul Mouth no healthfme Air breaths in,

And there die ftrangled e'er my Romeo comes?
Or if I live, it is not very like,

The horrible conceit of Death and Night,
Together with the Terror of the place,

As in a Vult, an ancient Receptacle,

Where, for thefe many hundred Years, the Bones,
Of all my buried Ancestors are packt;
Where blody Tybalt, yet but green in Earth,
Lies feftring in his Shrowd; where, as they fay,
At fome Hours in the Night, Spirits refort-

Alack,

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