[SCENE II. Hall in Capulet's house.] Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, NURSE, and SERVING-MEN, two or three.

Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ. [Exit 1. Servant.]

Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. 2. Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they can lick their fingers.

Cap. How canst thou try them so?

2. Serv. Marry, sir, 't is an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers; therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me.

Cap. Go, be gone.

[Exit 2. Servant. We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time. 10 What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence? Nurse. Ay, forsooth.

Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her.

A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.

La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision; "T is now near night.

Сар.

Tush, I will stir about, And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife;

Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her.
I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone;

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I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho!
They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself
To County Paris, to prepare up him
Against to-morrow. My heart is wondrous
light,

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Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. [Exeunt.

Enter LADY CAPULET.

La. Cap. What, are you busy, ho? Need you my help?

Jul. No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries

As are behoveful for our state to-morrow.
So please you, let me now be left alone,
And let the nurse this night sit up with you; 10
For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,
In this so sudden business.
La. Cap.
Good-night.
Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.
[Exeunt [Lady Capulet and Nurse].
Jul. Farewell! God knows when we shall
meet again.

I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,

That almost freezes up the heat of life.
I'll call them back again to comfort me.
Nurse! - What should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone.
Come, vial.

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What if this mixture do not work at all?
Shall I be married then to-morrow morning?
No, no; this shall forbid it. Lie thou there.
[Laying down her dagger.]
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath minist'red to have me dead,
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
Because he married me before to Romeo?

I fear it is; and yet, methinks, it should not,
For he hath still been tried a holy man.
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,

I wake before the time that Romeo

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Come to redeem me? There's a fearful point! Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,

To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,

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And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
Or, if I live, is it not very like,
The horrible conceit of death and night,

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As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body Upon a rapier's point. Stay, Tybalt, stay! Romeo, I come! This do I drink to thee.

[She falls upon her bed, within the
curtains.

[SCENE IV. Hall in Capulet's house.]
Enter LADY CAPULET and NURSE.

La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse.

Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.

Cap. Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha!

Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 't is
day.
[Music within. »
The County will be here with music straight,
For so he said he would. I hear him near.
Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say!
Re-enter NURSE.

Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up;
I'll go and chat with Paris. Hie, make haste,
Make haste; the bridegroom he is come al-
ready.

Make haste, I say.

[SCENE V. Juliet's chamber.] [Enter NURSE.]

[Exeunt.]

Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed! Why, love, I say, madam! sweetheart! why, bride!

What, not a word? You take your pennyworths now;

Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,

The County Paris hath set up his rest

That you shall rest but little. God forgive me!
Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep!
I needs must wake her. Madam, madam,
madam!

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Ay, let the County take you in your bed;
He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be?
[Draws back the curtains.]
What, dress'd, and in your clothes! and down
again!

I must needs wake you. Lady! lady! lady!
Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady's dead!
O, well-a-day, that ever I was born!
Some aqua vita, ho! My lord! my lady!
Enter LADY CAPULET.

La. Cap. What noise is here?
Nurse.

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O lamentable day!

⇒ up my tongue, and will not let me speak. ter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with MUSICIANS.

ri. L. Come, is the bride ready to go to church?

ap. Ready to go, but never to return. on! the night before thy wedding-day

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th Death lain with thy wife. There she lies, wer as she was, deflowered by him. ath is my son-in-law, Death is my heir; daughter he hath wedded. I will die

d leave him all; life, living, all is Death's. 40 Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face

d doth it give me such a sight as this? a. Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!

st miserable hour that e'er time saw lasting labour of his pilgrimage!

t one, poor one, one poor and loving child,

t one thing to rejoice and solace in,

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d cruel Death hath catch'd it from my sight! Nurse. O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!

st lamentable day, most woeful day,

at ever, ever, I did yet behold!

day! O'day! O day! O hateful day! ver was seen so black a day as this. woeful day, O woeful day!

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Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!

ost detestable Death, by thee beguil'd, cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!

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love! O life! not life, but love in death! Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!

comfortable time, why cam'st thou now 60 murder, murder our solemnity?

child! O'child! my soul, and not my child! ad art thou! Alack! my child is dead; id with my child my joys are buried.

Fri. L. Peace, ho, for shame! Confusion's

all,

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ad all the better is it for the maid. our part in her you could not keep from death, it heaven keeps his part in eternal life. le most you sought was her promotion, r't was your heaven she should be advanc'd; id weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd bove the clouds, as high as heaven itself? in this love, you love your child so ill, hat you run mad, seeing that she is well. e's not well married that lives married long ; at she's best married that dies married young.

y up your tears, and stick your rosemary this fair corse; and, as the custom is, all her best array bear her to church; r though fond nature bids us all lament, et nature's tears are reason's merriment. Cap. All things that we ordained festival,

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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. 90
Fri. L. 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 lour upon you for some ill;
Move them no more by crossing their high
will.

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[Exeunt [Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar].

1. Mus. Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.

Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put

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?

us.

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

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 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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Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,

My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne,
And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful
thoughts.

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I dreamt my lady came and found me dead Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think!

And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips,
That I reviv'd, and was an emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!

Enter BALTHASAR, his man, booted.

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

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15

Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.

Her body sleeps in Capel's 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.

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Rom. Is it even so? Then I defy you, stars! Thou know'st my lodging; get me ink and

Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have

A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
As will disperse itself through all the veins
That the life-weary taker may fall dead,
And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath
As violently as hasty powder fir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law

Is death to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretched

ness,

And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes, Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; The world is not thy friend nor the world's law;

The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents. Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will, And drink it off; and, if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight. Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to

men's souls,

Doing more murder in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.

I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.
Farewell! Buy food, and get thyself in flesh.
Come, cordial and not poison, go with me
To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee.
[Exeunt.

[SCENE II. Verona. Friar Laurence's cell.] Enter FRIAR JOHN.

Fri. J. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! Enter FRIAR LAURENCE.

Fri. L. This same should be the voice of Friar John.

Welcome from Mantua ! What says Romeo? Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.

out,

One of our order, to associate me, Here in this city visiting the sick,

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And finding him, the searchers of the town, Suspecting that we both were in a house Where the infectious pestilence did reign, Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth; So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd. Fri. L. Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?

Fri. L. Unhappy fortune! By my brotherhood,

The letter was not nice but full of charge
Of dear import, and the neglecting it
May do much danger. Friar John, go hence; 20
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.

Fri. J. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.

[Exit.

Fri. L. Now must I to the monument alone; Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake. 25 She will beshrew me much that Romeo Hath had no notice of these accidents; But I will write again to Mantua, And keep her at my cell till Romeo come; Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! [Exit. 30

[SCENE III. A churchyard; in it a tomb belonging to the Capulets.]

Enter PARIS, and his PAGE with flowers and sweet water [and a torch].

Par. Give me thy torch, boy. Hence, and stand aloof.

Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,
Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,
But thou shalt hear it. Whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
Page. [Aside.] I am almost afraid to stand
alone

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thee, Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof, And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death,

Is partly to behold my lady's face;

But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger

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A precious ring, a ring that I must use
In dear employment; therefore hence, be gone.
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I farther shall intend to do,
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint
And strew this hungry churchyard with thy
limbs.

The time and my intents are savage-wild,
More fierce and more inexorable far
Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

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Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble ye. 40 Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that;

Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow.

Bal. [Aside.] For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout.

His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.

[Retires.]

Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,

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Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth, Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food! [Opens the tomb.] Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague,

That murd'red my love's cousin, with which grief,

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It is supposed, the fair creature died; And here is come to do some villanous shame To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him. [Comes forward.] Stop thy unhallowed toil, vile Montague! Can vengeance be pursued further than death? Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee. Obey, and go with me; for thou must die. Rom. I must indeed; and therefore came I

hither.

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Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man. Fly hence, and leave me; think upon these gone,

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Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
Put not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury: O, be gone!
By heaven, I love thee better than myself;
For I come hither arm'd against myself.
Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say
A madman's mercy bid thee run away.
Par. I do defy thy conjurations,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.