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Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS |
| Friar Lawrence |
On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. |
| Paris |
My father Capulet will have it so; |
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And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. |
| Friar Lawrence |
You say you do not know the lady's mind: |
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Uneven is the course, I like it not. |
| Paris |
Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, |
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And therefore have I little talk'd of love; |
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For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. |
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Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous |
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That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, |
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And in his wisdom hastes our marriage, |
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To stop the inundation of her tears; |
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Which, too much minded by herself alone, |
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May be put from her by society: |
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Now do you know the reason of this haste. |
| Friar Lawrence |
[Aside] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. |
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Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. |
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