_Nurse._ Faith, here 'tis. Romeo Is banished, and all the world to nothing That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you; Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it best you married with the county. O, he's a lovely gentleman! Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, madam, Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye 220 As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, I think you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first; or if it did not, Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were As living here and you no use of him.
_Nurse._ And from my soul too; Or else beshrew them both.
_Juliet._ Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in, and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, 230 To make confession and to be absolv'd.
_Nurse._ Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [_Exit._
_Juliet._ Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she hath prais'd him with above compare So many thousand times?--Go, counsellor; Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.-- I'll to the friar, to know his remedy; If all else fail, myself have power to die. [_Exit._
[Illustration: JULIET AT LAURENCE'S CELL.]
_Friar Laurence._ On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
_Paris._ My father Capulet will have it so, And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
_Friar Laurence._ You say you do not know the lady's mind; Uneven is the course, I like it not.
_Paris._ Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, And therefore have I little talk'd of love; For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, 10 And in his wisdom hastes our marriage, To stop the inundation of her tears, Which, too much minded by herself alone, May be put from her by society. Now do you know the reason of this haste.
_Friar Laurence._ [_Aside_] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.-- Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.
_Paris._ Happily met, my lady and my wife!
_Juliet._ That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
_Paris._ That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. 20