CAPULET
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed.
Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love,
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next—
But, soft! What day is this?
PARIS
Monday, my lord.
CAPULET
Monday! Ha, ha. Well, Wednesday is too soon,
O' Thursday let it be.—O' Thursday,
tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl.—
Will you be ready? 
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