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.