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Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS |
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Friar Lawrence |
On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. |
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Paris |
My father Capulet will have it so; |
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And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. |
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Friar Lawrence |
You say you do not know the lady's mind: |
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Uneven is the course, I like it not. |
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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. |
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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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Paris |
Happily met, my lady and my wife! |
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Juliet |
That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. |
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Paris |
That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. |
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Juliet |
What must be shall be. |
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Friar Lawrence |
That's a certain text. |
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Paris |
Come you to make confession to this father? |
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Juliet |
To answer that, I should confess to you. |
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Paris |
Do not deny to him that you love me. |
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Juliet |
I will confess to you that I love him. |
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Paris |
So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. |
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Juliet |
If I do so, it will be of more price, |
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Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. |
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Paris |
Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears. |
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Juliet |
The tears have got small victory by that; |
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For it was bad enough before their spite. |
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Paris |
Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report. |
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Juliet |
That is no slander, sir, which is a truth; |
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And what I spake, I spake it to my face. |
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Paris |
Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. |
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Juliet |
It may be so, for it is not mine own. |
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Are you at leisure, holy father, now; |
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Or shall I come to you at evening mass? |
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Friar Lawrence |
My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. |
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My lord, we must entreat the time alone. |
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Paris |
God shield I should disturb devotion! |
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Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye: |
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Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. |
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Juliet |
O shut the door! and when thou hast done so, |
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Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! |
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Friar Lawrence |
Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; |
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It strains me past the compass of my wits: |
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I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, |
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On Thursday next be married to this county. |
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Juliet |
Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, |
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Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: |
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If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, |
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Do thou but call my resolution wise, |
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And with this knife I'll help it presently. |
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God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; |
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And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd, |
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Shall be the label to another deed, |
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Or my true heart with treacherous revolt |
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Turn to another, this shall slay them both: |
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Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time, |
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Give me some present counsel, or, behold, |
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'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife |
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Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that |
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Which the commission of thy years and art |
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Could to no issue of true honour bring. |
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Be not so long to speak; I long to die, |
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If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. |
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Friar Lawrence |
Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope, |
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Which craves as desperate an execution. |
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As that is desperate which we would prevent. |
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If, rather than to marry County Paris, |
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Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, |
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Then is it likely thou wilt undertake |
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A thing like death to chide away this shame, |
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That copest with death himself to scape from it: |
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And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy. |
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Juliet |
O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, |
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From off the battlements of yonder tower; |
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Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk |
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Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; |
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Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, |
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O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, |
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With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; |
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Or bid me go into a new-made grave |
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And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; |
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Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; |
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And I will do it without fear or doubt, |
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To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. |
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Friar Lawrence |
Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent |
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To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow: |
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To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; |
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Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: |
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Take thou this vial, being then in bed, |
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And this distilled liquor drink thou off; |
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When presently through all thy veins shall run |
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A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse |
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Shall keep his native progress, but surcease: |
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No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest; |
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The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade |
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To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall, |
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Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; |
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Each part, deprived of supple government, |
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Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: |
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And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death |
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Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, |
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And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. |
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Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes |
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To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: |
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Then, as the manner of our country is, |
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In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier |
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Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault |
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Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. |
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In the mean time, against thou shalt awake, |
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Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, |
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And hither shall he come: and he and I |
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Will watch thy waking, and that very night |
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Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. |
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And this shall free thee from this present shame; |
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If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear, |
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Abate thy valour in the acting it. |
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Juliet |
Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear! |
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Friar Lawrence |
Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous |
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In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed |
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To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. |
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Juliet |
Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford. |
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