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Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with Musicians.

Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
Cap. Ready to go, but never to return.
O son, the night before thy wedding-day

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Hath death lain with thy bride.-See, there she lies,
Flower as she was, defloured by him.

Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir;
My daughter he hath wedded! I will die,
And leave him all; life leaving, all is death's.

Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face,1
And doth it give me such a sight as this?

La. Cap. Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful

Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw

In lasting labor of his pilgrimage!

But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
And cruel death hath catched it from my sight.

Nurse. O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day! most woful day,
That ever, ever I did yet behold!

O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this.
O woful day, O woful day!

Par. Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most détestable death, by thee beguiled,
By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown!-
O love! O life!-not life, but love in death!

Cap. Despised, distressed, hated, martyred, killed!
Uncomfortable time! why cam'st thou now
To murder, murder our solemnity?—

1 The quarto of 1597 continues the speech of Paris thus :-
“And doth it now present such prodigies?
Accurst, unhappy, miserable man,

Forlorn, forsaken, destitute I am,

Born to the world to be a slave in it:
Distrest, remediless, unfortunate.

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Oh, heavens! Oh, nature! wherefore did you make me

To live so vile, so wretched as I shall?"

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In the text, the edition of 1599 is here followed. The nurse's exclama-
tory speech is not in the first quarto.

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O child! O child!--my soul, and not my child!
Dead art thou, dead!—alack! my child is dead;
And, with my child, my joys are buried!

Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not In these confusions. Heaven and yourself

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Had part in this fair maid; now Heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid.

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Your part in her you could not keep from death;
But Heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was-her promotion;
For 'twas your heaven, she should be advanced;
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced,
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, in this love, you love your child so ill,
That you run mad, seeing that she is well.
She's not well married, that lives married long;
But she's best married, that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,
In all her best array bear her to church.
For though fond nature bids us all lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.

Cap. All things, that we ordained festival,'
Turn from their office to black funeral;
Our instruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.

Fri. Sir, go you in,-and, madam, go with him; And go, sir Paris;-every one prepare To follow this fair corse unto her grave. The Heavens do lower upon you, for some ill; Move them no more, by crossing their high will. [Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIS, and Friar.

The enlarged text is formed upon the poem.

1 Instead of this and the following speeches, the first quarto has only a couplet:

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"Let it be so; come, woful sorrow-mates,
Let us together taste this bitter fate."

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SC. V.]


'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be

Nurse. Honest, good fellows, ah, put up; put up; For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.

1 Mus.



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[Exit Nurse. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.

Enter PETER.

Pet. Musicians, O musicians, Heart's ease, heart's ease; O, an you will have me live, play-heart's ease. 1 Mus. Why heart's ease?

Pet. O musicians, because my heart itself playsMy heart is full of woe.1 O, play me some merry dump,

to comfort me.

Mus. No.

Pet. I will then give it you soundly.

1 Mus. What will you give us ?

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2 Mus. Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. Pet. You will not then?



Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek; I will give you the minstrel.

1 Mus. Then will I give you the serving-creature. Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets; I'll re you, I'll fa you. Do you note me?

1 Mus. An you re us, and fɑ us, you note us.

2 Mus. 'Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

Pet. Then have at you with my wit; I will dry-beat

1 This is the burden of the first stanza of A Pleasant New Ballad of Two Lovers :—

"Hey hoe! my heart is full of woe."

2 A dump was formerly the received term for a grave or melancholy strain in music, vocal or instrumental. It also signified a kind of poetical elegy. A merry dump is no doubt a purposed absurdity put into the mouth of master Peter.

3 A pun is here intended. A gleekman, or gligman, is a minstrel. To give the gleek, meant, also, to pass a jest upon a person, to make him appear ridiculous; a gleek being a jest or scoff.

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you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger.Answer me like men:

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When griping grief the heart doth wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
Then music, with her silver sound,' -

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Why, silver sound? why, music with her silver sound?
What say you, Simon Catling??

1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.
Pet. Pratest! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
2 Mus. I say-silver sound, because musicians sound
for silver.

Pet. Pratest too!--What say you, James Soundpost?
3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say.

Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer; I will say for you. It is--music with her silver sound, because musicians have seldom gold for sounding:

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Then music, with her silver sound,
With speedy help doth lend redress.
[Exit, singing.

1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same ! 2 Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.


1 This is part of a song by Richard Edwards, to be found in the Paradice of Dainty Devices, fol. 31, b. Another copy of this song is to be found in Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry.

2 This worthy takes his name from a small lutestring made of catgut his companion, the fiddler, from an instrument of the same name, mentioned by many of our old writers, and recorded by Milton as an instru ment of mirth.

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Enter ROMEO.

Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep,'
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;
And, all this day, an unaccustomed spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
I dreamed my lady came and found me dead,
(Strange dream! that gives a dead man leave to think,)
And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,
That I revived, and was an emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possessed,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!


News from Verona !-How now, Balthasar?
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father well?
How doth my Juliet? That I ask again;
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.


Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.
Her body sleeps in Capels' monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
And presently took post to tell it you;
O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,
Since you did leave it for my office, sir.
Rom. Is it even so? Then I defy you, stars!-

1 Thus the first quarto. The folio reads :—

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"If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep."

The sense appears to be, If I may repose any confidence in the flattering
visions of the night. Otway reads

"If I may trust the flattery of sleep."

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