Romeo and Juliet (22 page)

What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
And if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live.
Therefore have done. Some grief shows much of
love;
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

Juliet.
Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.°

Lady Capulet.
So shall you feel the loss, but not the
friend
Which you weep for.

Juliet.
Feeling so the loss,
I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.

Lady Capulet.
Well, girl, thou weep’st not so much for
his death
As that the villain lives which slaughtered him.

Juliet.
What villain, madam?

Lady Capulet.
That same villain Romeo.

Juliet.
[
Aside
] Villain and he be many miles asunder.—
God pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.

Lady Capulet.
That is because the traitor murderer lives.

Juliet.
Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands.
Would none but I might venge my cousin’s death!

Lady Capulet.
We will have vengeance for it, fear
thou not.
Then weep no more. I’ll send to one in Mantua,
Where that same banished runagate° doth live,
Shall give him such an unaccustomed dram
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company;
And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied.

Juliet.
Indeed I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo till I behold him—dead°—

Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vexed.
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper° it;
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors
To hear him named and cannot come to him,
To wreak° the love I bore my cousin
Upon his body that hath slaughtered him!

Lady Capulet.
Find thou the means, and I’ll find such
a man.
But now I’ll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

Juliet.
And joy comes well in such a needy time.
What are they, beseech your ladyship?

Lady Capulet.
Well, well, thou hast a careful° father,
child;
One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath sorted out° a sudden day of joy
That thou expects not nor I looked not for.

Juliet.
Madam, in happy time!° What day is that?

Lady Capulet.
Marry, my child, early next Thursday
morn
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The County Paris, at Saint Peter’s Church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.

Juliet.
Now by Saint Peter’s Church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride!
I wonder at this haste, that I must wed
Ere he that should be husband comes to woo.
I pray you tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris. These are news indeed!

Lady Capulet.
Here comes your father. Tell him so
yourself,
And see how he will take it at your hands.

Capulet.
When the sun sets the earth doth drizzle dew,
But for the sunset of my brother’s son
It rains downright.
How now? A conduit,° girl? What, still in tears?
Evermore show’ring? In one little body
Thou counterfeits a bark, a sea, a wind:
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs,
Who, raging with thy tears and they with them,
Without a sudden° calm will overset
Thy tempest-tossèd body. How now, wife?
Have you delivered to her our decree?

Lady Capulet.
Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives
you thanks.°
I would the fool were married to her grave!

Capulet.
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 a gentleman to be her bride?

Juliet.
Not proud° you have, but thankful that you
have.
Proud can I never be of what I hate,
But thankful even for hate that is meant love.

Capulet.
How, how, how, how, chopped-logic?° What
is this?

“Proud”—and “I thank you”—and “I thank you
not”—
And yet “not proud”? Mistress minion° you,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But fettle° your fine joints ’gainst Thursday next
To go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle° thither.
Out, you greensickness° carrion! Out, you baggage!°
You tallow-face!

Lady Capulet.
Fie, fie! What, are you mad?

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

Capulet.
Hang thee, young baggage! Disobedient
wretch!
I tell thee what—get thee to church a Thursday
Or never after look me in the face.
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me!
My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest
That God had lent 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!°

Nurse.
God in heaven bless her!
You are to blame, my lord, to rate° her so.

Capulet.
And why, my Lady Wisdom? Hold your
tongue,
Good Prudence. Smatter with your gossips,° go!

Nurse.
I speak no treason.

Capulet.
O, God-i-god-en!°

Nurse.
May not one speak?

Capulet.
Peace, you mumbling fool!
Utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s bowl,
For here we need it not.

Lady Capulet.
You are too hot.

Capulet.
God’s bread!° It makes me mad.
Day, night; hour, tide, time; work, play;
Alone, in company; still my care hath been
To have her matched; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,
Of fair demesnes,° youthful, and nobly trained,
Stuffed, as they say, with honorable parts,
Proportioned as one’s thought would wish a man—
And then to have a wretched puling° fool,
A whining mammet,° in her fortune’s tender,°
To answer “I’ll not wed, I cannot love;
I am too young, I pray you pardon me”!
But, and you will not wed, I’ll pardon you!°
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me.
Look to’t, think on’t; I do not use to jest.°
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:°
And you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend;
And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets,
For, by my soul, I’ll ne’er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good.
Trust to’t. Bethink you. I’ll not be forsworn.
Exit.

Juliet.
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 Tybalt lies.

Lady Capulet.
Talk not to me, for I’ll not speak a word.

Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.
Exit.

Juliet.
O God!—O nurse, how shall this be prevented?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven.°
How shall that faith return again to earth
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth?° Comfort me, counsel me.
Alack, alack, that heaven should practice stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself!
What say’st thou? Hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse.

Nurse.
Faith, here it is.
Romeo is banished; and 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 as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the County.
O, he’s a lovely gentleman!
Romeo’s a dishclout° to him. An eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye
As Paris hath. Beshrew° my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first; or if it did not,
Your first is dead—or ’twere as good he were
As living here and you no use of him.

Juliet.
Speak’st thou from thy heart?

Nurse.
And from my soul too; else beshrew them both.

Juliet.
Amen!

Nurse.
What?

Juliet.
Well, thou hast comforted me marvelous much.
Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeased my father, to Lawrence’ cell,
To make confession and to be absolved.

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

Juliet.
Ancient damnation!° O most wicked fiend!
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,°
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath praised him with above compare
So many thousand times? Go, counselor!
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.
Exit.

[ACT 4

Enter Friar
[
Lawrence
]
and County 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 talked 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
slowed.—
Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell.

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 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 abused 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 sland’red it.