ACT IV.
1. Scene I. Friar Lawrence's Cell.
 
[Enter Friar Lawrence and Paris.] 
 
Friar.
 
On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. 
 
Paris.
 
My father Capulet will have it so;
 
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. 
 
Friar.
 
You say you do not know the lady's mind:
 
Uneven is the course; I like it not. 
 
Paris.
 
Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
 
And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
 
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
 
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
 
That she do give her sorrow so much sway;
 
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:
 
Now do you know the reason of this haste. 
 
Friar.
 
[Aside.] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.--
 
Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell. 
 
[Enter Juliet.] 
 
Paris.
 
Happily met, my lady and my wife! 
 
Juliet.
 
That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. 
 
Paris.
 
That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. 
 
Juliet.
 
What must be shall be. 
 
Friar.
 
That's a certain text. 
 
Paris.
 
Come you to make confession to this father? 
 
Juliet.
 
To answer that, I should confess to you. 
 
Paris.
 
Do not deny to him that you love me. 
 
Juliet.
 
I will confess to you that I love him. 
 
Paris.
 
So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. 
 
Juliet.
 
If I do so, it will be of more price,
 
Being spoke behind your back than to your face. 
 
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