Jul.
O fortune, fortune, all men call thee fickle.
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him,
That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune:
For then I hope thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back again. Enter Lady Capulet.

La. Cap.
Hoa, daughter, are you up?

Jul.
Who is't that calls? Is it my lady mother?
What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?

La. Cap.
Why how now, Juliet?

Jul.
Madam, I'm not well.

La. Cap.
Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?

Jul.
Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.

La. Cap.
I come to bring thee joyful tidings, girl.

Jul.
And joy comes well in such a needful time.
What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

La. Cap.
Marry, my child early next Thursday morn,
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The country Paris, at St. Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee a joyful bride.

Jul.
I wonder at this haste that I must wed,
Ere he that must be husband comes to woo.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I cannot marry yet.

La. Cap.
Here comes your father, tell him so, yourself,
And see how he will take it at your hands. Enter Capulet and Nurse.

Cap.
How now? a conduit, girl? what still in tears;
Evermore showering? Why how now, wife?
Have you delivered to her our decree?

La. Cap.
Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks:
I would the fool were married to her grave.

Cap.
Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife,
How, will she none? Doth she not give us thanks?
Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blest,
(Unworthy as she is) that we have wrought
So worthy gentleman to be her bridegroom?

Jul.
Proud can I never be of what I hate,
But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.

Cap.
Thank me no thankings,
But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to St. Peter's church:
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

Jul.
Good father, I beseech you, on my knees,
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

Cap.
Hang thee, young baggage, disobedient wretch,
I tell thee what, get thee to church, o' Thursday,
Or never after look me in the face.

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me.
Wife, we scarce thought us blest,
That Heav'n had sent us but this only child,
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her.
Out on her, hilding.* ^note

Nurse.
Heav'n bless her:
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

Cap.
And why, my lady wisdom? Hold your tongue,
Good prudence, smatter with your gossips, go.

Nurse.
I speak no treason.

Cap.
Peace, you mumbling fool;
Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,
For here we need it not.

La. Cap.
You are too hot.

Cap.
Good wife it makes me mad; day, night, late, early,
At home, abroad, alone, in company,
Waking or sleeping; still my care hath been
To have her match'd; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,
Of fair demeans; youthful and nobly allied,
Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man:
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet,† ^note in her fortune's tender
To answer, I'll not wed, I cannot love,
I am too young, I pray you pardon me.—
But if you will not wed, look to't, think on't,
I do not use to jest—Thursday is near.
If you be mine, I'll give you to my friend:
If you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i'th' streets;
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee. [Exit.

Jul.
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?
O sweet, my mother, cast me not away,
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
Or if you do not, make the bridal bed
In that dim monument where Tibalt lies.

La Cap.
Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word:
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Exit.

Jul.
O heav'n! O nurse, how shall this be prevented?
Alack, alack, that heav'n should practise stratagems,
Upon so soft a subject as myself.

Nurse.
Rise, faith here it is:
Romeo is banish'd; all the world to nothing,
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth:
Then, since the case so stands, I think it best
You married with the count.

Jul.
Speakest thou from thy heart?

Nurse.
And from my soul, too,
Or else beshrew them both.

Jul.
Amen, amen.

Nurse.
What?

Jul.
Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much:
Go in, and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeas'd my father, to Lawrence' cell,
To make confession, and to be absolv'd.

Nurse.
Marry, I will, and this is wisely done. [Exit.

Jul.
Oh most wicked fiend!
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue;
Which she hath prais'd him with above compare,
So many thousand times? Go, counsellor,
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain;
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy;
If all else fail, myself have power to die.* ^note [Exit. End of the Third Act.

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