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.'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night:I promise you, but for your company,I would have been a-bed an hour ago.PARISThese times of woe afford no time to woo.Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.LADY CAPULETI will, and know her mind early to-morrow;To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness.CAPULETSir Paris, I will make a desperate tenderOf my child's love: I think she will be ruledIn all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next --But, soft! what day is this?PARISMonday, my lord,CAPULETMonday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her,She shall be married to this noble earl.Will you be ready? do you like this haste?We'll keep no great ado, -- a friend or two;For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,It may be thought we held him carelessly,Being our kinsman, if we revel much:Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,And there an end.But what say you to Thursday?PARISMy lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.CAPULETWell get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then.Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.Farewell, my lord.Light to my chamber, ho!Afore me! it is so very very late,That we may call it early by and by.Good night.[Exeunt]--------------------------------------"scene" 5Scene 5[Capulet's orchard.][Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window]JULIETWilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:It was the nightingale, and not the lark,That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.ROMEOIt was the lark, the herald of the morn,No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaksDo lace the severing clouds in yonder east:Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund dayStands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.I must be gone and live, or stay and die.JULIETYon light is not day-light, I know it, I:It is some meteor that the sun exhales,To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,And light thee on thy way to Mantua:Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.ROMEOLet me be ta'en, let me be put to death;I am content, so thou wilt have it so.I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beatThe vaulty heaven so high above our heads:I have more care to stay than will to go:Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.JULIETIt is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!It is the lark that sings so out of tune,Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.Some say the lark makes sweet division;This doth not so, for she divideth us:Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,O, now I would they had changed voices too!Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day,O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.ROMEOMore light and light; more dark and dark our woes![Enter Nurse, to the chamber]NurseMadam!JULIETNurse?NurseYour lady mother is coming to your chamber:The day is broke; be wary, look about.[Exit]JULIETThen, window, let day in, and let life out.ROMEOFarewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.[He goeth down]JULIETArt thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!I must hear from thee every day in the hour,For in a minute there are many days:O, by this count I shall be much in yearsEre I again behold my Romeo!ROMEOFarewell!I will omit no opportunityThat may convey my greetings, love, to thee.JULIETO think'st thou we shall ever meet again?ROMEOI doubt it not; and all these woes shall serveFor sweet discourses in our time to come.JULIETO God, I have an ill-divining soul!Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.ROMEOAnd trust me, love, in my eye so do you:Dry sorrow drinks our blood.Adieu, adieu![Exit]JULIETO fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him.That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,But send him back.LADY CAPULET[Within]Ho, daughter! are you up?JULIETWho is't that calls? is it my lady mother?Is she not down so late, or up so early?What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?[Enter LADY CAPULET]LADY CAPULETWhy, how now, Juliet!JULIETMadam, I am not well.LADY CAPULETEvermore weeping for your cousin's death?What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live;Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love;But much of grief shows still some want of wit.JULIETYet let me weep for such a feeling loss.LADY CAPULETSo shall you feel the loss, but not the friendWhich you weep for.JULIETFeeling so the loss,Cannot choose but ever weep the friend.LADY CAPULETWell, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death,As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.JULIETWhat villain madam?LADY CAPULETThat same villain, Romeo.JULIET[Aside]Villain and he be many miles asunder.--God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart;And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.LADY CAPULETThat is, because the traitor murderer lives.JULIETAy, madam, from the reach of these my hands:Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!LADY CAPULETWe will have vengeance for it, fear thou not:Then weep no more.I'll send to one in Mantua,Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram,That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.JULIETIndeed, I never shall be satisfiedWith Romeo, till I behold him -- dead --Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd.Madam, if you could find out but a manTo bear a poison, I would temper it;That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,Soon sleep in quiet.O, how my heart abhorsTo hear him named, and cannot come to him.To wreak the love I bore my cousinUpon his body that slaughter'd him!LADY CAPULETFind thou the means, and I'll find such a man.But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.JULIETAnd joy comes well in such a needy time:What are they, I beseech your ladyship?LADY CAPULETWell, well, thou hast a careful father, child;One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for.JULIETMadam, in happy time, what day is that?LADY CAPULETMarry, my child, early next Thursday morn,The gallant, young and noble gentleman,The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church,Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.JULIETNow, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too,He shall not make me there a joyful bride.I wonder at this haste; that I must wedEre he, that should be husband, comes to woo.I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,Rather than Paris.These are news indeed!LADY CAPULETHere comes your father; tell him so yourself,And see how he will take it at your hands [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]