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  • Title: Romeo and Juliet (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Roger Apfelbaum

    • ISBN: 1-55058-299-2

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Romeo and Juliet (Folio 1, 1623)

    70 The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet.
    2195To go with Paris to Saint Peters Church:
    Or I will drag thee, on a Hurdle thither.
    Out you greene sicknesse carrion, out you baggage,
    You tallow face.
    Lady. Fie, fie, what are you mad?
    2200Iul. Good Father, I beseech you on my knees
    Heare me with patience, but to speake a word.
    Fa. Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch,
    I tell thee what, get thee to Church a Thursday,
    Or neuer after looke me in the face.
    2205Speake not, reply not, do not answere me.
    My fingers itch, wife: we scarce thought vs blest,
    That God had lent vs but this onely Child,
    But now I see this one is one too much,
    And that we haue a curse in hauing her:
    2210Out on her Hilding.
    Nur. God in heauen blesse her,
    You are too blame my Lord to rate her so.
    Fa. And why my Lady wisedome? hold your tongue,
    Good Prudence, smatter with your gossip, go.
    2215Nur. I speake no treason,
    Father, O Godigoden,
    May not one speake?
    Fa. Peace you mumbling foole,
    Vtter your grauitie ore a Gossips bowles
    2220For here we need it not.
    La. You are too hot.
    Fa. Gods bread, it makes me mad:
    Day, night, houre, ride, time, worke, play,
    Alone in companie, still my care hath bin
    2225To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided
    A Gentleman of Noble Parentage,
    Of faire Demeanes, Youthfull, and Nobly Allied,
    Stuft as they say with Honourable parts,
    Proportion'd as ones thought would wish a man,
    2230And then to haue a wretched puling foole,
    A whining mammet, in her Fortunes tender,
    To answer, Ile not wed, I cannot Loue:
    I am too young, I pray you pardon me.
    But, and you will not wed, Ile pardon you.
    2235Graze where you will, you shall not house with me:
    Looke too't, thinke on't, I do not vse to iest.
    Thursday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduise,
    And you be mine, Ile giue you to my Friend:
    And you be not, hang, beg, straue, die in the streets,
    2240For by my soule, Ile nere acknowledge thee,
    Nor what is mine shall neuer do thee good:
    Trust too't, bethinke you, Ile not be forsworne Exit.
    Iuli. Is there no pittie sitting in the Cloudes,
    That sees into the bottome of my griefe?
    2245O sweet my Mother cast me not away,
    Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke,
    Or if you do not, make the Bridall bed
    In that dim Monument where Tybalt lies.
    Mo. Talke not to me, for Ile not speake a word,
    2250Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee. Exit.
    Iul. O God!
    O Nurse, how shall this be preuented?
    My Husband is on earth, my faith in heauen,
    How shall that faith returne againe to earth,
    2255Vnlesse that Husband send it me from heauen,
    By leauing earth? Comfort me, counsaile me:
    Hlacke, alacke, that heauen should practise stratagems
    Vpon so soft a subiect as my selfe.
    What saist thou? hast thou not a word of ioy?
    2260Some comfort Nurse.
    Nur. Faith here it is,
    Romeo is banished, and all the world to nothing,
    That he dares nere come backe to challenge you:
    Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
    2265Then since the case so stands as now it doth,
    I thinke it best you married with the Countie,
    O hee's a Louely Gentleman:
    Romeos a dish-clout to him: an Eagle Madam
    Hath not so greene, so quicke, so faire an eye
    2270As Paris hath, beshrow my very heart,
    I thinke 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 liuing here and you no vse of him.
    2275Iul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
    Nur. And from my soule too,
    Or else beshrew them both.
    Iul. Amen.
    Nur. What?
    2280Iul. Well, thou hast comforted me marue'lous much,
    Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone,
    Hauing displeas'd my Father, to Lawrence Cell,
    To make confession, and to be absolu'd.
    Nur. Marrie I will, and this is wisely done.
    2285Iul. Auncient damnation, O most wicked fiend!
    It is more sin to wish me thus forsworne,
    Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue
    Which she hath prais'd him with aboue compare,
    So many thousand times? Go Counsellor,
    2290Thou and my bosome henchforth shall be twaine:
    Ile to the Frier to know his remedie,
    If all else faile, my selfe haue power to die. Exeunt.

    Enter Frier and Countie Paris.

    Fri. On Thursday sir? the time is very short.
    2295Par. My Father Capulet will haue it so,
    And I am nothing slow to slack his hast.
    Fri. You say you do not know the Ladies mind?
    Vneuen is the course, I like it not.
    Pa. Immoderately she weepes for Tybalts death,
    2300And therfore haue I little talke of Loue,
    For Venus smiles not in a house of teares.
    Now sir, her Father counts it dangerous
    That she doth giue her sorrow so much sway:
    And in his wisedome, hasts our marriage,
    2305To stop the inundation of her teares,
    Which too much minded by her selfe alone,
    May be put from her by societie.
    Now doe you know the reason of this hast?
    Fri. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.
    2310Looke sir, here comes the Lady towards my Cell.
    Enter Iuliet.
    Par. Happily met, my Lady and my wife.
    Iul. That may be sir, when I may be a wife.
    Par. That may be, must be Loue, on Thursday next.
    2315Iul. What must be shall be.
    Fri. That's a certaine text.
    Par. Come you to make confession to this Father?
    Iul. To answere that, I should confesse to you.
    Par. Do not denie to him, that you Loue me.
    2320Iul. I will confesse to you that I Loue him.
    Par. So will ye, I am sure that you Loue me.
    Iul. If I do so, it will be of more price,
    Benig spoke behind your backe, then to your face.
    Par. Poore soule, thy face is much abus'd with teares.
    Iuli. The
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