Delfosse: Romeo & Juliet, Act 4

Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous That she do give her sorrow so much sway, 10 And in his wisdom hastes our marriage To stop the inundation of her tears, Which, too much minded by herself alone, May be put from her by society.

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.

60 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 65 Could to no issue of true honor bring.

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 85 tremble), And I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unstained wife to my sweet love.

JULIET Where I have learned me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition To you and your behests, and am enjoined By holy Lawrence to fall prostrate here To beg your pardon.

My heart is wondrous light Since this same wayward girl is so reclaimed.

Or, if I live, is it not very like The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place— As in a vault, an ancient receptacle 40 Where for this many hundred years the bones Of all my buried ancestors are packed; Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, Lies fest’ring in his shroud; where, as they say, At some hours in the night spirits resort— 45 Alack, alack, is it not like that I, So early waking, what with loathsome smells, And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of

CAPULET All things that we ordainèd festival Turn from their office to black funeral: Our instruments to melancholy bells, Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast, Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,

Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous That she do give her sorrow so much sway, 10 And in his wisdom hastes our marriage To stop the inundation of her tears, Which, too much minded by herself alone, May be put from her by society.

1 Are you at leisure, holy father, now, Or shall I come to you at evening Mass?

60 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 65 Could to no issue of true honor bring.

A peevish self-willed harlotry it is.

5 Most detestable death, by thee beguiled, By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown!

Uncomfortable time, why cam’st thou now To murder, murder our solemnity?

FIRST MUSICIAN What a pestilent knave is this same!

Come, we’ll in 150 here, tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.