For it was bad enough before their spite.

Paris.
Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report.

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

Paris.
Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.

Juliet.
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?

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

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

[Exit.]

Juliet.
O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so,