Faith, here it is. Romeo is banish’d; and all the world to nothing, That he dares ne’er come back to challenge you; Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it best you married with the county. O, he’s a lovely gentleman! Romeo’s a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam, Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, I think you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first; or if it did not, Your first is dead; or ’twere as good he were, As living here and you no use of him.

And from my soul too; Or else beshrew them both.

Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in; and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeased my father, to Laurence’ cell, To make confession and to be absolved.