Verona. Friar Laurence's Cell.
 Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS.

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 talked of love;
	For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
	Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
	That she do give her sorrow so much sway,
	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 slowed.
	-Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell.

                              Enter JULIET.

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.

Juliet	What must be, shall be.

Friar
Laurence							That's a certain text.

Paris	Come you to make confession to this father?

Juliet	To answer that, I should confess to you.

Paris	Do not deny to him that you love me.

Juliet	I will confess to you that I love him.

Paris	So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.

Juliet	If I do so, it will be of more price
	Being spoke behind your back than to your face.

Paris	Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.

Juliet	The tears have got small victory by that,
	For it was bad enough before their spite.

Paris	Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report.

Juliet	That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;
	And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

Paris	Thy face is mine, and thou hast slandered it.

Juliet	It may be so, for it is not mine own.
	Are you at leisure, holy father, now,
	Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

Friar
Laurence	My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
	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	O 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.

Juliet	Tell me not, Friar, that thou hear'st of this,
	Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.
	If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help,
	Do thou but call my resolution wise,
	And with this knife I'll help it presently.
	God joined my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;
	And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo's sealed,
	Shall be the label to another deed,
	Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
	Turn to another, this shall slay them both.
	Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,
	Give me some present counsel, or, behold,
	'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
	Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
	Which the commission of thy years and art
	Could to no issue of true honour bring.
	Be not so long to speak; I long to die
	If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.

Friar
Laurence	Hold; daughter, I do spy a kind of hope
	Which craves as desperate an execution
	As that is desperate which we would prevent.
	If, rather than to marry County Paris,
	Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
	Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
	A thing like death to chide away this shame,
	That cop'st with death himself to 'scape from it;
	And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.

Juliet	O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
	From off the battlements of any tower,
	Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk
	Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears,
	Or hide me nightly in a charnel-house
	O'ercovered quite with dead men's rattling bones,
	With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
	Or bid me go into a new-made grave
	And hide me with a dead man in his shroud-
	Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble-
	And I will do it without fear or doubt,
	To live an unstained wife to my sweet love.

Friar
Laurence	Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
	To marry Paris. Wednesday is tomorrow;
	Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone,
	Let not the Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber.
	Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
	And this distilling liquor drink thou off;
	When presently through all thy veins shall run
	A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse
	Shall keep his native progress, but surcease:
	No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st;
	The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
	To wanny ashes, thy eyes' windows fall
	Like death, when he shuts up the day of life.
	Each part, deprived of supple government,
	Shall stiff and stark and cold appear, like death;
	And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death
	Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,
	And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
	Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes
	To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead.
	Then, as the manner of our country is,
	In thy best robes, uncovered on the bier,
	Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
	Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
	In the meantime, against thou shalt awake,
	Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
	And hither shall he come; and he and I
	Will watch thy waking, and that very night
	Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
	And this shall free thee from this present shame,
	If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear
	Abate thy valour in the acting it.

Juliet	Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!

Friar
Laurence	Hold; get you gone. Be strong and prosperous
	In this resolve. I'll send a friar with speed
	To Mantua with my letters to thy lord.

Juliet	Love give me strength, and strength shall help afford.
	Farewell, dear father!
											[Exeunt.
