Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk of love;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. 8
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway,
And in his wisdom hastes our marriage
To stop the inundation of her tears; 12
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society.
Now do you know the reason of this haste.
Fri. L. [Aside.] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. 16
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.
Enter Juliet.
Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife!
Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
Par. That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. 20
Jul. What must be shall be.
Fri. L. That’s a certain text.
Par. Come you to make confession to this father?
Jul. To answer that, I should confess to you.
Par. Do not deny to him that you love me.
Jul. I will confess to you that I love him. 25
Par. So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.
Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. 28
Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears.
Jul. The tears have got small victory by that;
For it was bad enough before their spite.
Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report. 32
14 society: companionship
