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- Indeed, my child, at Saint Peter's Church early Thursday morning, the gallant, young and noble gentleman Count Paris will happily make you a joyful bride.
- Now, I swear by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too, he will not make me a joyful bride there. this is a strange rush. How can I marry him, this husband, before he comes to court me? Please, tell my father, madam, I won't marry yet. And, when I do marry, I swear, it will be Romeo whom you know I hate, rather than Paris. That's really news!
- When the sun sets, the air drizzles dew. But at the death of my brother's son, it rains a downpour. What are you, girl? Some kind of fountain? Why are you still crying? Will you cry forever? In one little body you seem like a ship, the sea, and the winds. Your eyes, which I call the sea, flow with tears. The ship is your body which is sailing on the salt flood of your tears.
- Forget about you, you worthless girl! You disobedient wretch! I'll tell you what. Go to church on Thursday or never look me in the face again. Don't say anything. Don't reply. Don't talk back to me. (JULIET rises) I feel like slapping you. Wife, we never thought ourselves blessed that God only gave us this one child. But now I see that this one is one too many. We were cursed when we had her. She disgusts me, the little hussy!
- Good father, I'm begging you on my knees, be patient and listen to me say just one thing.
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