JuLiEt Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
CaPuLeT Hang thee, young baggage! Disobedient wretch! I tell thee what: get thee to church o’ Thursday, Or never after look me in the face! Speak not, reply not, do not answer me! My fingers itch.54
That God had lent us but this only child – But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a curse in having her. Out on her, hilding!55
NuRsE 170 You are to blame, my lord, to rate56
God in heaven bless her! her so.
56
rate: berate/harshly scold
Wife, we scarce thought us blest
54
My fingers itch: i.e. My fingers itch to strike you
55
Out on her, hilding!: Away with her; she’s a contemptible person
