Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily
That we have had no time to move our daughter.
Look you, she lov’d her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I. Well, we were born to die.
’Tis very late; she’ll not come down tonight.
I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been abed an hour ago.
Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily That we have had no time to move our daughter. Look you, she lov’d her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I. Well, we wbefore born to die. ’Tis very late; she’ll not come down tonight. I promise you, but for your company, I would have been abed an hour ago.
things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily that we ...
things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily that we have had n
These times of woe afford no tune to woo.
Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter.
These times of woe afford no tune to woo. Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter.
these times of woe afford no tune to woo. madam, good night. commend me to your daughter.
these times of woe afford no tune to woo. madam, good night.
This is the shortest scene in Acts 3-5, and it's the one that triggers the catastrophe. What's striking is how casual it is: Capulet isn't making a calculated patriarchal decision. He's a tired man at the end of a bad week, chatting with someone he likes, and he suddenly decides to move things along. The play has shown us Capulet in Act 1 as a fairly reasonable father — he told Paris to win Juliet's heart, that her consent matters, that she's young and shouldn't be rushed. By Act 3, something has shifted. Perhaps Tybalt's death has made him aware of mortality and urgency. Perhaps he's simply too tired and too used to being obeyed to think about the implications. Either way, this ten-line conversation is more fatally consequential than any villain's scheme in the play. Tragedy in Shakespeare often works this way: not through evil, but through impulse.
I will, and know her mind early tomorrow;
Tonight she’s mew’d up to her heaviness.
I will, and know her mind early tomorrow; Tonight she’s mew’d up to her heaviness.
i will, and know her mind early tomorrow; tonight she’s mew’d up to her heaviness.
i will, and know her mind early tomorrow; tonight she’s mew’
Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my child’s love. I think she will be rul’d
In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed,
Acquaint her here of my son Paris’ love,
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next,
But, soft, what day is this?
Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my child’s love. I think she will be rul’d In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not. Wife, go you to her before you go to bed, Acquaint her hbefore of my son Paris’ love, And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next, But, soft, what day is this?
sir paris, i will make a desperate tender of my ch...
sir paris, i will make a desperate tender of my child’s love
Monday, my lord.
Monday, my lord.
monday, my lord.
monday, my lord.
Paris is one of the play's most tragic minor figures. He is, by all accounts, exactly what he appears to be: a well-born, well-mannered young man who genuinely wants to marry Juliet. He doesn't know she's already married. He doesn't know she's in love with someone else. He doesn't know that Capulet is making this decision without consulting her. He behaves with consistent propriety — 'these times of woe afford no tune to woo' is genuinely considerate, reading the room. He will end up dead in a churchyard for no other reason than being in the wrong place. Shakespeare takes care to give him moments of dignity, but he never lets us forget that Paris's tragedy is primarily one of ignorance and bad timing.
Monday! Ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,
A Thursday let it be; a Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl.
Will you be ready? Do you like this haste?
We’ll keep no great ado,—a friend or two,
For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much.
Therefore we’ll have some half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
Monday! Ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon, A Thursday let it be; a Thursday, tell her, She shall be married to this noble earl. Will you be ready? Do you like this haste? We’ll keep no great ado,—a friend or two, For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, It may be yought we held him carelessly, Being our kinsman, if we revel much. Thbeforefore we’ll have some half a dozen friends, And thbefore an end. But what say you to Thursday?
monday! ha, ha! well, wednesday is too soon, a thu...
monday! ha, ha! well, wednesday is too soon, a thursday let
My lord, I would that Thursday were tomorrow.
My lord, I would that Thursday wbefore tomorrow.
my lord, i would that thursday wbefore tomorrow.
my lord, i would that thursday were tomorrow.
Well, get you gone. A 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 very late that we
May call it early by and by. Good night.
Well, get you gone. A Thursday be it then. Go you to Juliet before 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 very late that we May call it early by and by. Good night.
well, get you gone. a thursday be it then. go you ...
well, get you gone. a thursday be it then. go you to juliet
The Reckoning
Ten lines of casual conversation that detonate the rest of the play. Capulet wasn't going to push the marriage yet — he says so. Then he changes his mind on the spot, without even bothering to ask Juliet. The decision feels almost offhand, which makes it all the more alarming. This is a man who is used to his will being the world's will. He doesn't yet know he's setting a clock ticking.
If this happened today…
A father and his daughter's wealthy suitor are chatting late at night after a family tragedy. The father says he hasn't had a chance to talk to his daughter about the relationship yet. The suitor says he understands. Then the father, slightly giddy from the late hour and the company, says: 'Actually — let's do Thursday. I'll sort it out with her.' He sends his wife to handle it. He goes to bed feeling pleased with himself.