ACT IV. | |
Scene I. Friar Lawrence's Cell. | |
| [Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris.] |
Friar. | |
| On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. |
Paris. | |
| My father Capulet will have it so; |
| And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. |
Friar. | |
| You say you do not know the lady's mind: |
| Uneven is the course; I like it not. |
Paris. | |
| Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, |
| And therefore have I little talk'd of love; |
| For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. |
| Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous |
| That she do 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. |
Friar. | |
| [Aside.] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.-- |
Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell. | |
| [Enter Juliet.] |
Paris. | |
| Happily met, my lady and my wife! |
Juliet. | |
| That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. |
Paris. | |
| That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. |
Juliet. | |
| What must be shall be. |
Friar. | |
| That's a certain text. |
Paris. | |
| Come you to make confession to this father? |
Juliet. | |
| To answer that, I should confess to you. |
Paris. | |
| Do not deny to him that you love me. |
Juliet. | |
| I will confess to you that I love him. |
Paris. | |
| So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. |
Juliet. | |
| If I do so, it will be of more price, |
| Being spoke behind your back than to your face. |
Paris. | |
| Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. |
Juliet. | |
| The tears have got small victory by that; |
| For it was bad enough before their spite. |
Paris. | |
| Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report. |
Juliet. | |
| That is no slander, sir, which is a truth; |
| And what I spake, I spake it to my face. |
Paris. | |
| Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. |
Juliet. | |
| 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? |
Friar. | |
| My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.-- |
| My lord, we must entreat the time alone. |
Paris. | |
| God shield I should disturb devotion!-- |
| Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you: |
| Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. |
| [Exit.] |
Juliet. | |
| O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, |
| Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! |
Friar. | |
| Ah, 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. |
Juliet. | |
| Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'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 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's 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 empire; 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. |
Friar. | |
| 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. |
Juliet. | |
| 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 shut 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 shroud; |
| 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. |
Friar. | |
| 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 vial, 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 surcease: |
| 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, |
| Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault |
| Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. |
| 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 waking, 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. |
Juliet. | |
| Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear! |
Friar. | |
| 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. |
Juliet. | |
| Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford. |
| Farewell, dear father. |
| [Exeunt.] |