Part 21

Iul. 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, Thou and my bosom henceforth 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

Par. 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, And 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, To 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. Looke 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

Iul. 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

Iul. 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, Being spoke behind your backe, then to your face

Par. Poore soule, thy face is much abus'd with teares

Iul. The teares haue got small victorie by that: For it was bad inough before their spight

Pa. Thou wrong'st it more then teares with that report

Iul. That is no slaunder sir, which is a truth, And what I spake, I spake it to thy face

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slaundred it

Iul. It may be so, for it is not mine owne. Are you at leisure, Holy Father now, Or shall I come to you at euening Masse? Fri. My leisure serues me pensiue daughter now. My Lord you must intreat the time alone

Par. Godsheild: I should disturbe Deuotion, Iuliet, on Thursday early will I rowse yee, Till then adue, and keepe this holy kisse.

Exit Paris.

Iul. O shut the doore, and when thou hast done so, Come weepe with me, past hope, past care, past helpe

Fri. O Iuliet, I alreadie know thy griefe, It streames me past the compasse of my wits: I heare thou must and nothing may prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this Countie

Iul. Tell me not Frier that thou hearest of this, Vnlesse thou tell me how I may preuent it: If in thy wisedome, thou canst giue no helpe, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife, Ile helpe it presently. God ioyn'd my heart, and Romeos, thou our hands, And ere this hand by thee to Romeo seal'd: Shall be the Labell to another Deede, Or my true heart with trecherous reuolt, Turne to another, this shall slay them both: Therefore out of thy long experien'st time, Giue me some present counsell, or behold Twixt my extreames and me, this bloody knife Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that, Which the commission of thy yeares and art, Could to no issue of true honour bring: Be not so long to speak, I long to die, If what thou speak'st, speake not of remedy