His rage moves rather quickly in this scene (III.v). It begins with misunderstanding, which is a place wherein most anger does indeed begin for all people:
Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife.
How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?
Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
So at first, he does not understand what would be so difficult about being given the great chance to marry a worthy mate.
Although Juliet expresses her thanks for this great gift, Capulet grow more upset because he feels unappreciated for his effort. Misunderstanding grows into being demanding, which all parents have the right to do:
Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds,
But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!
Juliet begs him to try to understand, but his demand grows stronger into the desire to hit. We see this in the italicized words below:
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.
Capulet will not listen to his daughter and has made that clear. He is denying her opportunity to speak. His anger grows into madness:
God's bread! it makes me mad:
Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play,
Alone, in company, still my care hath been
To have her match'd:
All of us have heard our parents use the defense that they work their whole lives for us, their children. Capulet is feeling fruitless in his labor for his daughter.
Finally, when Capulet is at complete rage, he gives his final ultimatum, if Juliet doesn't marry Paris, her only other option is to be kicked out of their home:
Graze where you will you shall not house with me:
Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:
An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,