ACT IV.
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.
