FRIAR LAURENCE
Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
It strains me past the compass of my wits:
I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this county.
JULIET
Tell me not, friar, that thou hear’st of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:
July 26, 2008 at 2:04 am |
[...] am nothing slow to slack his haste” (4.1.1-5); “nothing may prorogue it,” (4.1.46-51); “nothing can be ill, if she be well”, “she is well, and nothing can be [...]