R&J Act 3 Scene 5
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- It is, it is. Hie hence, be gone, away! It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
- Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads.I have more care to stay than will to go.Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.How is't, my soul? Let's talk; it is not day.
- Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn The gallant, young, and noble gentleman, The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church, Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
- Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too, He shall not make me there a joyful bride. I wonder at this haste, that I must wed Ere he that should be husband comes to woo. I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, Rather than Paris. These are news indeed!
- Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
- Hang thee, young baggage. Disobedient wretch! I tell thee what. Get thee to church a Thursday, Or never after look me in the face.
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