If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough before their spite.

That is no slander, sir, which is a truth; And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

It may be so, for it is not mine own. Are you at leisure, holy father, now; Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

God shield I should disturb devotion! Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye: Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. Exit.

O shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!