Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Servingmen,
two or three.
So many guests invite as here are writ.
[Exit a Servingman.]
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.
You shall have none ill, sir;
for I'll try if they can
lick their fingers.
How canst thou try them so?
Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own
fingers. Therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not
We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.
What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence?
Well, be may chance to do some good on her.
A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.
See where she comes from shrift with merry look.
How now, my headstrong? Where have you been gadding?
Where I have learnt me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition
To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here
To beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you!
Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.
Send for the County. Go tell him of this.
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell
And gave him what becomed love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.
Why, I am glad on't. This is well. Stand up.
This is as't should be. Let me see the County.
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.
Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar,
All our whole city is much bound to him.
Nurse, will you go with me into my closet
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?
No, not till Thursday. There is time enough.
Go, nurse, go with her. We'll to church to-morrow.
Exeunt Juliet and Nurse.
We shall be short in our provision.
'Tis now near night.
Tush, I will stir about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife.
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her.
I'll not to bed to-night;
let me alone.
I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho!
They are all forth;
well, I will walk myself
To County Paris, to prepare him up
Against to-morrow. My heart is wondrous light,
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.