1    Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily,
2    That we have had no time to move our daughter:
3    Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
4    And so did I:--Well, we were born to die.
5    'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night:
6    I promise you, but for your company,
7    I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

8    These times of woe afford no time to woo.
9    Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.

10   I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;
11   To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness.

12   Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
13   Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled
14   In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.
15   Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
16   Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;
17   And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next--
18   But, soft! what day is this?

19   Monday, my lord,

20   Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,
21   O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her,
22   She shall be married to this noble earl.
23   Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
24   We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two;
25   For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
26   It may be thought we held him carelessly,
27   Being our kinsman, if we revel much:
28   Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
29   And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?

30   My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.

31   Well get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then.
32   Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
33   Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
34   Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho!
35   Afore me! it is so very very late,
36   That we may call it early by and by.
37   Good night.