My lord, [we must entreat] the time alone.
Paris. [God shield] I should disturb [devotion]!—
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye;
Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss. [Exit.
Juliet. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me; past hope, [past cure], past help!
Friar Laurence. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
It strains me past the compass of my wits.
I hear thou must, and nothing may [prorogue] it,
On Thursday next be married to this county.