Act III.
Scene IV.
Scene IV.—The Same. A Room in
CAPULET'S House.
Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and
PARIS.
Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our
daughter:
Look you, she lov'd 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.
Par. These times of woe afford no time to
woo.
Madam, good-night: commend me to your
daughter.
Lady Cap. I will, and know her mind early
to-morrow;
To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.
Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate
tender
Of my child's love: I think she will be rul'd
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?
Par. Monday, my lord.
Cap. 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 Thurs-
day?
Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were
to-morrow.
Cap. 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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