| PARIS | |
Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, | |
| | And therefore have I little talk'd of love; | |
| | For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. | |
| | Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous | |
| | That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, | 10 |
| | 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. | 15 |
| JULIET | |
Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, | |
| | Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: | |
| | If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, | |
| | Do thou but call my resolution wise, | |
| | And with this knife I'll help it presently. | 55 |
| | God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; | |
| | And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd, | |
| | Shall be the label to another deed, | |
| | Or my true heart with treacherous revolt | |
| | Turn to another, this shall slay them both: | 60 |
| | Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time, | |
| | Give me some present counsel, or, behold, | |
| | 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife | |
| | Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that | |
| | Which the commission of thy years and art | 65 |
| | Could to no issue of true honour bring. | |
| | Be not so long to speak; I long to die, | |
| | If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. | |
| FRIAR LAURENCE | |
Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope, | |
| | Which craves as desperate an execution. | 70 |
| | As that is desperate which we would prevent. | |
| | If, rather than to marry County Paris, | |
| | Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, | |
| | Then is it likely thou wilt undertake | |
| | A thing like death to chide away this shame, | 75 |
| | That copest with death himself to scape from it: | |
| | And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy. | |
| JULIET | |
O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, | |
| | From off the battlements of yonder tower; | |
| | Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk | 80 |
| | Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; | |
| | Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, | |
| | O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, | |
| | With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; | |
| | Or bid me go into a new-made grave | 85 |
| | And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; | |
| | Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; | |
| | And I will do it without fear or doubt, | |
| | To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. | |
| FRIAR LAURENCE | |
Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent | 90 |
| | To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow: | |
| | To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; | |
| | Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: | |
| | Take thou this vial, being then in bed, | |
| | And this distilled liquor drink thou off; | 95 |
| | When presently through all thy veins shall run | |
| | A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse | |
| | Shall keep his native progress, but surcease: | |
| | No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest; | |
| | The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade | 100 |
| | To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall, | |
| | Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; | |
| | Each part, deprived of supple government, | |
| | Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: | |
| | And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death | 105 |
| | Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, | |
| | And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. | |
| | Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes | |
| | To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: | |
| | Then, as the manner of our country is, | 110 |
| | In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier | |
| | Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault | |
| | Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. | |
| | In the mean time, against thou shalt awake, | |
| | Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, | 115 |
| | And hither shall he come: and he and I | |
| | Will watch thy waking, and that very night | |
| | Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. | |
| | And this shall free thee from this present shame; | |
| | If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear, | 120 |
| | Abate thy valour in the acting it. | |
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