DAVE: Immoderatley she weeps for
Tybalts death. Her father counts it dangerous that she doth give
her sarrow so much sway, and in his wisdom hastes our marrige
to stop the inundation of her tears. 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.
FATHER LAWRENCE: Well, that's
a certain text.
DAVE: Come you to make confession?
JULIET: Are you at leisure Holy
Father, now? Or shall I come to you at evening mass?
FATHER LAWRENCE: My leisure serves
me, pensive daughter now. We must entreat the time alone.
DAVE: God shield I should desturb
devotion. Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse thee, Till then,
adieu, and keep this holy kiss.
JULIET: Tell me not, Father, that
thou hearest of this, Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.
FATHER LAWRENCE: It strains me
past the compass of my wits.
JULIET: If in thy wisdom thou
canst give no help Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with
this I'll help it presently!
FATHER LAWRENCE: Hold Daughter!
JULIET: Be not so long to speak
I long to die.
FATHER LAWRENCE: I do spy a kind
of hope, Which craves as desprate and execution as that is desprate
which we would prevent. If, rather than to marry Paris, Thou hast
the strength of will to slay thyself, Then it is likely thou wilt
undertake a thing like death, to chide away this shame. No warmth,
no breath shall testify thou livest . Each part, deprived of supple
government, shall stiff and stark and cold appear, like death.
Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes to rouse thee from
thy bed, there art thou dead. Thou shalt be borne to that same
aincient vault where all he kindred to the capulet lie. In the
meantime, against thou shalt awake, shall Romeo by my letters
know our drift, and hither shall he come. And that very night
shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. Take thou this vial, being
then in bed, and this distilling liquor drink thou off. I'll send
my letters to thy lord post haste to Mantua.
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