Lady Capulet

Juliet
Madam, I am here. What is your will?
Lady Capulet
This is the matter.—Nurse, give leave awhile.
We must talk in secret.—Nurse, come back again.
I have remembered me, thou ’s hear our counsel.
Thou knowest my daughter’s of a pretty age.
Nurse
Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
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Prince
Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
Benvolio
Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo’s hand did slay—
Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink
How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal
Your high displeasure.

Let Romeo hence in haste,
Else, when he is found, that hour is his last.

All this utterèd
With gentle breath,
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Lady Capulet
Evermore weeping for your cousin’s death?
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live.
Therefore have done. Some grief shows much of love,
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
Juliet
Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
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Lady Capulet
Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child,
One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy
That thou expects not, nor I looked not for.
Juliet
Madam, in happy time! What day is that?

I would the fool were married to her grave.
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Capulet
God’s bread, it makes me mad.
Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play,
Alone, in company, still my care hath been
To have her matched. And having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,
Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly ligned,
Stuffed, as they say, with honorable parts,
Proportioned as one’s thought would wish a man—
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
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Lady Capulet
Good night.
Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.
  Lady Capulet and the Nurse exit.
Juliet
Farewell.—God knows when we shall meet again.
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins
That almost freezes up the heat of life.
I’ll call them back again to comfort me.—
Nurse!—What should she do here?
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Lady Capulet
What noise is here?
Nurse
O lamentable day!
Lady Capulet
What is the matter?
Nurse
Look, look!—O heavy day!

Death lies on her like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Lady Capulet
O me! O me!
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Friar Lawrence
Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
Capulet
Ready to go, but never to return.—
O son, the night before thy wedding day
Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies,
Flower as she was, deflowerèd by him.
Death is my son-in-law; Death is my heir.
My daughter he hath wedded.
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Prince
What misadventure is so early up
That calls our person from our morning rest?
  Enter Capulet and Lady Capulet.
Capulet
What should it be that is so shrieked abroad?
Lady Capulet
O, the people in the street cry “Romeo,”
Some “Juliet,” and some “Paris,” and all run
With open outcry toward our monument.
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