Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet/Act 4 Scene 1

by William Shakespeare

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,
Exit Paris.Till then adue, and keepe this holy kisse.

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' his 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 expetien'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.

Fri.
Hold Daughter, I doe spie a kind of hope,
Which craues as desperate an execution,
As that is desperate which we would preuent.
If rather then to marrie Countie Paris
Thou hast the strength of will to stay thy selfe,
Then is it likely thou wilt vndertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That coap'st with death himselfe, to scape fro it:
And if thou dar'st, Ile giue thee remedie.

Iul.
Oh bid me leape, rather then marrie Paris,
From of the Battlements of any Tower,
Or walke in theeuish waies, or bid me lurke
Where Serpents are: chaine me with roaring Beares
Or hide me nightly in a Charnell house,
Orecouered quite with dead mens ratling bones,
With reckie shankes and yellow chappels sculls:
Or bid me go into a new made graue,
And hide me with a dead man in his graue,
Things that to heare them told, haue made me tremble,
And I will doe it without feare or doubt,
To liue an vnstained wife to my sweet Loue.

Fri.
Hold then: goe home, be merrie, giue consent,
To marrie Paris: wensday is to morrow,
To morrow night looke that thou lie alone,
Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy Chamber:
Take thou this Violl being then in bed,
And this distilling liquor drinke thou off,
When presently through all thy veines shall run,
A cold and drowsie humour: for no pulse
Shall keepe his natiue progresse, but surcease:
No warmth, no breath shall testifie thou liuest,
The Roses in thy lips and cheekes shall fade
To many ashes, the eyes windowes fall
Like death when he shut vp the day of life:
Each part depriu'd of supple gouernment,
Shall stiffe and starke, and cold appeare like death,
And in this borrowed likenesse of shrunke death
Thou shalt continue two and forty houres,
And then awake, as from a pleasant sleepe.
Now when the Bridegroome in the morning comes,
To rowse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then as the manner of our country is,
In thy best Robes vncouer'd on the Beere,
Be borne to buriall in thy kindreds graue:
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie,
In the meane time against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my Letters know our drift,
And hither shall he come, and that very night
Shall Romeo beare thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame,
If no inconstant toy nor womanish feare,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.

Iul.
Giue me, giue me, O tell me not of care.

Fri.
Hold get you gone, be strong and prosperous:
In this resolue, Ile send a Frier with speed
To Mantua with my Letters to thy Lord.

Iu.
Loue giue me strength,
And strength shall helpe afford:
ExitFarewell deare father.

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