4.1 Flashcards
PARIS
Happily met, my lady and my wife
That may be sir, when I may be a wife
PARIS
That may be, must be, love, on Thursday next
What must be shall be
PARIS
Come you to make confession to this friar?
To answer that, I should confess to you
PARIS
Do not deny to him that you love me
I will confess to you that I love him
PARIS
So will ye, I am sure that you love me
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
The tears have got small victory by that;
For it was bad enough before their spite
PARIS
Thou wrongst it, more than tears with that report
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
It may be so, for it is not mine own
Are you at leisure, holy father, now?
Or shall I come back at evening mass
PARIS
exits
O shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help
FRIAR
I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this county
Tell me not friar, that thou hearst 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 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 honor bring
Be not so long to speak, I long to die
If what thou speakst speak not of remedy
FRIAR
And if thou darest, Ill give thee remedy
O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris
From off battlements of yonder tower,
Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk where serpents are, chain me with roaring bears
Or shut me nightly in a charn house
O’er-covered quite with dead men’s rattling bones
With reeky shanks and yellow chapels skills
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
If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear
Abate thy valor in the acting it
Give me, give me! O tell me not of fear!
FRIAR
I’ll send a friar with speed to Mantua, with my letters to thy lord
Love give me strength, and strength shall help afford.
Farewell, dear father!
