Paris and Capulet talk about the effect of Tybalt's death on Juliet.
These times of pain are bad times for romance. Madam, good night. Give my regards to your daughter.
I will. And I’ll find out what she thinks about marriage early tomorrow. Tonight she is shut up in her room, alone with her sadness.
Capulet tells Paris that Juliet will marry him. He also pushes the wedding back to Thursday. Capulet insists the ceremony is small, out of respect for Tybalt's recent death.
My lord, I wish Thursday were tomorrow.
Well get you gone. O' Thursday be it, then.— Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed. Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day.— Farewell, my lord.—Light to my chamber, ho! Afore me! It is so very late, That we may call it early by and by.— Good night.