Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender[1009]
Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled[1010]
In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.[1011]
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; 15
Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;[1012]
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next—[1013][1014]
But, soft! what day is this?
Par. Monday, my lord.
Cap. Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon;[1014]
O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her,[1015][1016] 20
She shall be married to this noble earl.[1015]
Will you be ready? do you like this haste?[1015]
We'll keep no great ado; a friend or two;[1017]
For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly, 25
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?[1018]
Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.[1019]
Cap. Well, get you gone: o' Thursday be it then.[1020] 30
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,[1021]
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho!
Afore me, it is so very very late,[1022]
That we may call it early by and by:[1022][1023] 35
Good night.[1024] [Exeunt.
Scene V. Capulet's orchard.[1025]
Enter Romeo and Juliet, above, at the window.[1026]
Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:[1027]
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate-tree:[1028]
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. 5
Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,[1029]
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day[1030]
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops:[1031] 10
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.