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Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.
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| Capulet |
Things have fall’n out, sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our daughter:
Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I:—Well, we were born to die.
’Tis very late, she’ll not come down to-night:
I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
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| Paris |
These times of woe afford no time to woocourt someone in the hope of marriage.
Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.
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| Lady Capulet |
I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;
To-night she is mew’d up to her heaviness.
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| Capulet |
Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tenderan offer; here, Capulet's offer of his daughter's love
Of my child’s love: I think she will be ruled
In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here of my son Paris’ love;
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next—
But, soft! what day is this?
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| Paris |
Monday, my lord, |
| Capulet |
Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,
O’ Thursday let it be: o’ Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl.
Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
We’ll keep no great ado—a friend or two;
For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
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?
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| Paris |
My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow. |
| Capulet |
Well, get you gone: o’ Thursday be it, then.
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho!
Afore me! it is so very very late,
That we may call it early by and by.
Good night. Exeunt.
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