Well, well, you have a careful father, child. He has arranged a sudden day of joy to end your sadness. A day that you did not expect and that I did not seek out.
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!
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.
Here comes your father. Tell him so yourself, and see how he takes the news.
So where do things stand, wife? Have you told her our decision?
I am not proud of what you have found for me. But I am thankful that you have found it. I can never be proud of what I hate. But I can be thankful for something I hate, if it was meant with love.
Wait! Hold on, wife. She refuses? Isn’t she grateful? Isn’t she proud of such a match? Doesn’t she realize what a blessing this is? Doesn’t she realize how unworthy she is of the gentleman we have found to be her bridegroom?
Yes, sir, I told her. But she won’t agree. She says thank you but refuses. I wish the fool were dead and married to her grave!
Good father, I’m begging you on my knees, be patient and listen to me say just one thing.
What is this? What is this fuzzy logic? What is this? I hear you say “proud” and “I thank you,” and then “no thank you” and “not proud,” you spoiled little girl. You’re not really giving me any thanks or showing me any pride. But get yourself ready for Thursday. You’re going to Saint Peter’s Church to marry Paris. And if you don’t go on your own, I’ll drag you there. You disgust me, you little bug! You worthless girl! You pale face!
Shame on you! What, are you crazy?
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. 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!