Page 3210 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

Every good hap to you that chances here. [170]
Give me thy hand. ’Tis late. Farewell. Good night.

ROMEO

But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief so brief to part with thee.
Farewell.

Exeunt.

Scene IV IT

Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet and Paris.

CAPULET

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 tonight. [5]
I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been abed an hour ago.

PARIS

These times of woe afford no times to woo.
Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter.

LADY CAPULET

I will, and know her mind early tomorrow. [10]
Tonight she’s mew’d up to her heaviness.

Paris offers to go in and Capulet calls him again.

CAPULET

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, [15]
Acquaint her here of my son Paris’ love,
And bid her - mark you me? - on Wednesday next -
But soft - what day is this?