[Sc. XIV.]

Enter olde Capolet and his Wife, with County Paris.

Cap: Thinges haue fallen out Sir so vnluckⁱly,
That we haue had no time to moue my daughter.
Looke yee Sir, she lou'd her kinsman dearely,
And so did I. Well, we were borne to dye,
Wife wher's your daughter, is she in her chamber? 5
I thinke she meanes not to come downe to night.

Par: These times of woe affoord no time to wooe,
Maddam farwell, commend me to your daughter.

Paris offers to goe in, and Capolet calles him againe.

Cap: Sir Paris? Ile make a desperate tender of my child.
I thinke she will be rulde in all respectes by mee: 10
But soft what day is this?

Par: Munday my Lord.

Cap: Oh then Wensday is too soone,
On Thursday let it be: you shall be maried.
Wee'le make no great a doe, a frend or two, or so: 15
For looke ye Sir, Tybalt being slaine so lately,
It will be thought we held him care leslye:
If we should reuell much, therefore we will haue
Some halfe a dozen frends and make no more adoe.
But what say you to Thursday. 20

Par: My Lorde I wishe that Thursday were to morrow.

Cap: Wife goe you to your daughter, ere you goe to bed.
Acquaint her with the County Paris loue,
Fare well my Lord till Thursday next.
Wife gette you to your daughter. Light to my Chamber. 25
Afore me it is so very very late,
That we may call it earely by and by.

Exeunt.