Capulet, Nurse, and two or three Servants.
Cap.
So many Guests invite, as here are writ;
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.
Ser.
You shall have none ill, Sir, for I'll try if they
can lick their fingers.
Cap.
How canst thou try them so?
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 shall be much unfurnish'd for this time:
What, is my daughter gone to Friar Lawrence?
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.
-- 88 --
Cap.
How now, my head-strong? where have you been gadding?
Jul.
Where I have learnt me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition
To You and your Behests; and am enjoin'd
By holy Lawrence to fall prostrate here,
And 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 Lawrence' cell,
And gave him what becoming 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,
6 note
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.
[Exeunt Juliet and Nurse.
La. Cap.
We shall be short in our provision;
'Tis now near night.
Cap.
Tush, I will stir about,
And all things shall 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 housewife for this once.—What, ho!
They are all forth; well I will walk my self
To County Paris, to prepare him up
-- 89 --
Against to morrow. My heart's wondrous light,
Since this same way-ward girl is so reclaim'd.
[Exeunt Capulet and lady Capulet.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
