1 Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
2 My father Capulet will have it so; And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
3 Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a letter to his father's house.
4 Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
5 Hold, take this letter; early in the morning See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
6 Here comes your father, tell him so yourself, And see how he will take it at your hands.
7 Go in, and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeas'd my father, to Lawrence cell, To make confession and to be absolv'd.
8 This letter he early bid me give his father, And threaten'd me with death, going in the vault, If I departed not, and left him there.
9 I pray you tell my lord and father, madam, I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, Rather than Paris.
10 Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; One who to put thee from thy heaviness, Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, That thou expects not, nor I look'd not for.
11 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.