On Thursday, sir? The time is very short.

My Father Capulet will have it so,

4.1.522962257And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.

You say you do not know the lady's mind?

4.1.722982259Uneven is the course; I like it not.

Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,

4.1.923002261And therefore have I little talk of love,

4.1.1023012262For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.

4.1.1123022263Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous

4.1.1223032264That she do give her sorrow so much sway

4.1.1323042265And in his wisdom hastes our marriage

4.1.1423052266To stop the inundation of her tears,

4.1.1523062267Which, too much minded by herself alone

4.1.1623072268May be put from her by society.

4.1.1723082269Now do you know the reason of this haste.

I would I knew not why it should be slowed.

4.1.1923102271Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell.

Happily met, my lady and my wife.

That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.

That "may be," must be, love, on Thursday next.

What must be shall be.

That's a certain text.

Come you to make confession to this father?

To answer that, I should confess to you.

Do not deny to him that you love me.

I will confess to you that I love him.

So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.

If I do so, it will be of more price,

4.1.3223232284Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.

The tears have got small victory by that,

4.1.3523262287For it was bad enough before their spite.

Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report.

That is no slander, sir, which is a truth,

4.1.3823292290And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

Thy face is mine, and thou hast slandered it.

It may be so, for it is not mine own.

4.1.4123322293Are you at leisure, holy Father, now,

4.1.4223332294Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.

4.1.4423352296My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

God shield I should disturb devotion.

4.1.4623372298Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye.

4.1.4723382299Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss.

O, shut the door, and when thou hast done so,

4.1.5123402302Come weep with me, past hope, past care, past help.

O Juliet, I already know thy grief.

4.1.5423422304It strains me past the compass of my wits,

4.1.5523432305I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,

4.1.5623442306On Thursday next be married to this County.

Tell me not, Friar, that thou hearest of this,

4.1.5823462308Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.

4.1.5923472309If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help,

4.1.6023482310Do thou but call my resolution wise,

4.1.6123492311And with this knife I'll help it presently.

4.1.6323502312God joined my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands,

4.1.6423512313And ere this hand by thee to Romeo's sealed

4.1.6523522314Shall be the label to another deed,

4.1.6623532315Or my true heart with treacherous revolt

4.1.6723542316Turn to another, this shall slay them both.

4.1.6823552317Therefore out of thy long-experienced time,

4.1.6923562318Give me some present counsel, or behold,

4.1.7023572319'Twixt my extremes and me, this bloody knife

4.1.7123582320Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that

4.1.7223592321Which the commission of thy years and art

4.1.7323602322Could to no issue of true honor bring.

4.1.7423612323Be not so long to speak; I long to die,

4.1.7523622324If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.

Hold, daughter, I do spy a kind of hope,

4.1.7723642326Which craves as desperate an execution,

4.1.7823652327As that is desperate which we would prevent.

4.1.7923662328If, rather than to marry County Paris,

4.1.8023672329Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,

4.1.8123682330Then is it likely thou wilt undertake

4.1.8223692331A thing like death to chide away this shame,

4.1.8323702332That cop'st with death himself to 'scape from it,

4.1.8423712333And if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.

O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,

4.1.8623732335From of the battlements of any tower,

4.1.8723742336Or walk in thievish wayes, or bid me lurk

4.1.8823752337Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears,

4.1.8923762338Or hide me nightly in a charnel house,

4.1.9023772339O'ercovered quite with dead men's rattling bones,

4.1.9123782340With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls,

4.1.9223792341Or bid me go into a new-made grave,

4.1.9323802342And hide me with a dead man in his shroud,

4.1.9423812343Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble,

4.1.9523822344And I will do it, without fear or doubt,

4.1.9623832345To live an unstained wife to my sweet love.

Hold then. Go home, be merry, give consent

4.1.9823852347To marry Paris. Wednesday is tomorrow;

4.1.9923862348Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone.

4.1.10023872349Let not the Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber.

4.1.10123882350Take thou this vial, being then in bed,

4.1.10323892351And this distilling liquor drink thou off,

4.1.10423902352When presently through all thy veins shall run

4.1.10523912353A cold and drowsy humor, for no pulse

4.1.10623922354Shall keep his native progress but surcease.

4.1.10723932355No warmth, no breath shall testify thou liv'st;

4.1.10823942356The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade

4.1.10923952357To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall

4.1.11023962358Like death when he shuts up the day of life.

4.1.11123972359Each part, deprived of supple government,

4.1.11223982360Shall stiff and stark and cold appear like death,

4.1.11323992361And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death

4.1.11424002362Thou shalt continue two and forty hours

4.1.11524012363And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.

4.1.11624022364Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes

4.1.11724032365To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead.

4.1.11824042366Then, as the manner of our country is,

4.1.11924052367In thy best robes, uncovered on the bier,

4.1.12024062368Be borne to burial in thy kindred's grave.

4.1.12124072369Thou shall be borne to that same ancient vault

4.1.12224082370Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.

4.1.12324092371In the meantime, against thou shalt awake,

4.1.12424102372Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,

4.1.12524112373And hither shall he come, and he and I

4.1.1262411.12374Will watch thy waking, and that very night

4.1.12724122375Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.

4.1.12824132376And this shall free thee from this present shame,

4.1.12924142377If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear

4.1.13024152378Abate thy valor in the acting it.

Give me, give me, O, tell not me of fear.

Hold, get you gone; be strong and prosperous

4.1.13424182381In this resolve. I'll send a friar with speed

4.1.13524192382To Mantua with my letters to thy lord.

Love give me strength, and strength shall help afford.

4.1.13724222384Farewell, dear father.