Iul. Auncient damnation, O most wicked fiend!
It is more sin to wish me thus forsworne,
Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue
Which she hath prais'd him with aboue compare,
So many thousand times? Go Counsellor,
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twaine:
Ile to the Frier to know his remedie,
If all else faile, my selfe haue power to die.
Exeunt.
Enter Frier and Countie Paris.
Fri. On Thursday sir? the time is very short
Par. My Father Capulet will haue it so,
And I am nothing slow to slack his hast
Fri. You say you do not know the Ladies mind?
Vneuen is the course, I like it not
Pa. Immoderately she weepes for Tybalts death,
And therfore haue I little talke of Loue,
For Venus smiles not in a house of teares.
Now sir, her Father counts it dangerous
That she doth giue her sorrow so much sway:
And in his wisedome, hasts our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her teares,
Which too much minded by her selfe alone,
May be put from her by societie.
Now doe you know the reason of this hast?
Fri. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.
Looke sir, here comes the Lady towards my Cell.
Enter Iuliet.
Par. Happily met, my Lady and my wife
Iul. That may be sir, when I may be a wife
Par. That may be, must be Loue, on Thursday next