This service is brought to you today by:
dip molding / dynamat / power rear window / skid unit / powder coating masking / masking caps / lightbar / federal contracts / Ford Truck Fan / Public Safety Equipment




ROMEO AND JULIET
Page: 44

[Exit.]

Romeo.
How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!

Friar.
Go hence; good night! and here stands all your state:
Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence.
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he shall signify from time to time
Every good hap to you that chances here:
Give me thy hand; 'tis late; farewell; good night.

Romeo.
But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief so brief to part with thee:
Farewell.

[Exeunt.]



Scene IV. A Room in Capulet's House.

[Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.]

Capulet.
Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily
That we have had no time to move our daughter:
Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I; well, we were born to die.
'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.

Paris.
These times of woe afford no tune to woo.--
Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.

Lady Capulet.
I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;
To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.

Capulet.
Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my child's love: I think she will be rul'd
In 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?

Paris.
Monday, my lord.

Capulet.
Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,
Thursday let it be;--a 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?

Paris.
My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.

Capulet.
Well, get you gone: o' Thursday be it then.--
Go you to Juliet, ere you go to bed,
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.--
Go To Page:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69





Home