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I know of thy grief. It strains mineself. O, next Thursday, thou must marry Paris!
O shut the door, and when thou hast done so, come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help!
Wilt thou help me? O Friar, speak thy wisdom. I cannot marry Paris, treacherous revolt! Give me thy counsel. I long to die. Hath thou remedy?
Hold, daughter. I spy a kind of hope which craves as desperate an execution as is the desperate which we could prevent. If thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.
With neither fear nor doubt, I would do anything to not marry of who thy speaks, Paris! To live an unstained wife to my sweet love, I shall do it, whatever remedy!
Go home, be merry, give consent to marry Paris. Tomorrow eve, speaking none of this, take this vile in thy bed. This potion's powers gives to thee a death-like sleep for two and forty
hours, after by which time thy family will discover thee. Taketh thee, they will, to where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. By letter, Romeo will know of thine state and to come to thee. When thy awakes, Romeo will taketh thee to safe Mantua.
Hold. Get you gone. Be strong and prosperous in this resolve. I'll send a friar with speed to Mantua with my letters to thy lord.
Give me, give me! O tell me not of fear.
Love give me strength, and strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father.
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