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SCENE II.-A Room in CAPULET'S House.
Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, Nurse, and Servants.
Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ.—
[Exit 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, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers: therefore, he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me.

Cap. Go, begone.

[Exit Servant.

We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.-
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.
Enter JULIET.

Nurse. See, where she comes from shrift with merry

look.

Cap. How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?

Jul. Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition

[Kneeling.

To you, and your behests; and am enjoin'd
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
And beg your pardon.-Pardon, I beseech you:
Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.

Cap. Send for the County go tell him of this.
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
And gave him what becoming love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.

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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, phial.-

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 a Dagger.

What if it be a poison, which the friar
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead,

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 :

I will not entertain so bad a thought.-
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
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,
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
Or, if I live, is it not very like,

The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place,-
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,

Cap. Why, I am glad on't; this is well,-stand up: Where, for these many hundred years, the bones

This is as't should be.-Let me see the County:
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.—

Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar,

All our whole city is much bound to him.

Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort :-
Alack, alack! is it not like, that I,

Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?
La. Cap. No, not till Thursday: there is time enough.
Cap. Go, nurse, go with her. We'll to church to-O! if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
[Exeunt JULIET and Nurse.

morrow.

La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision:

"Tis now near night. Cap.

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;
I'll play the housewife for this once.-What, ho!—
They are all forth: well, I will walk myself
To county Paris, to prepare him up
Against to-morrow. My heart is wond'rous light,
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-JULIET'S Chamber.

Enter JULIET and Nurse.

Jul. Ay, those attires are best:-but, gentle nurse,

So early waking,-what with loathsome smells,
And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad ;-
Environed with all these hideous fears,
And madly play with my forefathers' joints,
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
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! Romeo! Romeo!-here's drink-I drink to
thee.
[She throws herself on the bed.
SCENE IV.-CAPULET'S Hall.
Enter Lady CAPULET and Nurse.

La. Cap. Hold; take these keys, and fetch more

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Nurse.
Go, go, you cot-quean, go.
Get you to bed: 'faith, you'll be sick to-morrow
For this night's watching.

Cap. No, not a whit. What! I have watch'd ere now All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.

La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time;

But I will watch you from such watching now.
[Exeunt Lady CAPULET and Nurse.
Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood!-Now, fellow,
What's there?

Enter Servants, with Spits, Logs, and Baskets. 1 Serv. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit 1 Serv.]—Sirrah, fetch drier logs:

Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.

2 Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter.

[Exit. Cap. 'Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha! Thou shalt be logger-head.-Good faith! 'tis day: The County will be here with music straight,

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Nurse. Mistress!—what, mistress !-Juliet !-fast, I warrant :

Why, lamb!-why, lady!—fie, you slug-a-bed!— Why, love, I say!-madam! sweet-heart! - 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!
Ay, let the County take you in your bed:
He'll fright you up, i' faith.-Will it not be ?—
What, drest! 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-vitæ, ho!-my lord! my lady!
Enter Lady CAPULET.

La. Cap. What noise is here?
Nurse.

La. Cap. What is the matter!
Nurse.

O lamentable day!

Look, look! O heavy day! La. Cap. O me! O me!-my child, my only life, Revive, look up, or I will die with thee !Help, help!-call help.

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Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;
Life and these lips have long been separated:
Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
Nurse. O lamentable day!

La. Cap.

O woful time!

Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,

Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.
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
Hath death lain with thy wife: there she lies,
Flower as she was, deflowered 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, living, all is death's!
Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face,
And doth it give me such a sight as this?

La. Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!
Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw
In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
And cruel death hath catch'd 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. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!-
O love! O life!-not life, but love in death!

Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now
To murder, murder our solemnity?—

O child! O child !—my soul, and not my child !—
Dead art thou!-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
Had part in this fair maid, now heaven hath all;
And all the better is it for the maid:

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 advanc'd;
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd
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

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your wit.

Pet. Then have at you with my wit. I will drybeat you with my iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. -Answer me like men:

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

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. Thou pratest!-What say you, Hugh Rebeck? 2 Mus. I say "silver sound," because musicians sound for silver.

Pet. Thou 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 :Then music with her silver sound, With speedy help doth lend redress.

[Exit.

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. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

Rom. If I may trust the flattering death 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.
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.

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.

Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill:
Her body sleeps in Capulet'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.

Rom. Is it e'en so? then, I defy you, stars!-
Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,
And hire post horses; I will hence to-night.

Bal. I do beseech you, sir, have patience: Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure.

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Rom.
No matter; get thee gone,
And hire those horses: I'll be with thee straight.
[Exit BALTHASAR.

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
Let's see for means:-O, mischief! thou art swift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men.
I do remember an apothecary,

And hereabouts he dwells, which late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples: meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuff'd, and other skins
Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of pack thread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said-
An if a man did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
O! this same thought did but forerun my need,
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house:
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.-
What, ho! apothecary!

Ap.

Enter Apothecary.

Who calls so loud?
Rom. Come hither, man.-I see, that thou art poor;
Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding geer
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 wretchedness,
And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes,
Contempt and beggary hang on 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.

[Exit and returns.

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 despatch you straight.
Rom. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls,
Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou may'st 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.-Friar LAURENCE'S Cell.

Enter Friar JOHN.

John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!

Enter Friar LAURENCE.

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O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones,
Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,
Or wanting that with tears distill'd by moans:
The obsequies, that I for thee will keep,
Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep!
[The Boy whistles.
The boy gives warning something doth approach.
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
To cross my obsequies, and true love's rite?
What! with a torch ?-muffle me, night, a while.
[Retires.

Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a Torch,

Mattock, &c.

Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching iron.
Hold, take this letter: early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
Give me the light. Upon thy life I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,
And do not interrupt me in my course.

Lau. This same should be the voice of friar John.- Why I descend into this bed of death
Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo?

Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.

John. Going to find a bare-foot brother out,
One of our order, to associate me,
Here in this city visiting the sick,
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.
Lau. Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?
John. I could not send it,-here it is again,-

Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.

[Giving it.

Lau. 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;
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.

John. Brother, I'll go and bring it.

Is partly to behold my lady's face;

But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger
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.

Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship.-Take thou
that:
[Giving his Purse.
Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow.
Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me here about:
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.
Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,

[Exit.

[Breaking open the Monument. [Exit. And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food! Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague, That murder'd my love's cousin,—with which grief, It is supposed, the fair creature died,— And here is come to do some villainous shame To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.—

Lau. Now must I to the monument alone.
Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake;
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.
SCENE III.-A Churchyard; in it the Monument
of the Capulets.

Enter PARIS, and his Page, bearing Flowers, and a

Torch.

[Advancing.

Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague.
Can vengeance be pursu'd farther 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.-
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;

Par. Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand Fly hence and leave me :-think upon these gone;

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,

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 bade thee run away.
Par. I do defy commiseration,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.

Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then, have at thee, boy. [They fight. Page. O Lord! they fight: I will go call the watch. [Exit Page. Par. O! I am slain. [Falls.]-If thou be merciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies. Rom. In faith, I will.-Let me peruse this face :Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris!— What said my man, when my betossed soul Did not attend him as we rode? I think,

He told me, Paris should have married Juliet:
Said he not so? or did I dream it so?

Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To think it was so ?-O! give me thy hand, [Taking it.
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave,-

A grave? O, no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth,
For here lies Juliet; and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence full of light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.

[Laying PARIS in the Monument.
How oft, when men are at the point of death,
Have they been merry, which their keepers call
A lightning before death: O! how may I
Call this a lightning ?-O, my love! my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.—
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
O! what more favour can I do to thee,

Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,
To sunder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin!-Ah! dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? I will believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous;
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour.
For fear of that I still will stay with thee,
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again: here, here will I remain

last:

With worms that are thy chambermaids; O! here
Will I set up my everlasting rest,
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh.-Eyes, look your
Arms, take your last embrace; and lips, O! you,
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death.-
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark.
Here's to my love!-[Drinks.] O, true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

[Dies near JULIET. Enter, at the other End of the Churchyard, Friar LAURENCE, with a Lantern, Crow, and Spade; and BALTHASAR following.

Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled at graves?-Who's there? Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, What torch is yond', that vainly lends his light To grubs and eyeless sculls? as I discern, It burneth in the Capulets' monument.

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I dare not, sir.
My master knows not, but I am gone hence;
And fearfully did menace me with death,
If I did stay to look on his intents.

Fri. Stay, then, I'll go alone.-Fear comes upon me;
O! much I fear some ill unthrifty thing.
Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
I dreamt my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him.

Romeo!

[Exit. [Advancing.

Fri.
Alack, alack! what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre ?—
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace!

[Entering the Monument.
Romeo! O, pale!-Who else? what! Paris too?
And steep'd in blood?-Ah! what an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable chance!-
The lady stirs.

[JULIET wakes. Jul. O, comfortable friar! where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, And there I am.-Where is my Romeo? [Noise within. Fri. I hear some noise.-Lady, come from that nest Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep. A greater power than we can contradict Hath thwarted our intents: come, come away. Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; And Paris too come, I'll dispose of thee Among a sisterhood of holy nuns.

Stay not to question, for the watch is coming; Come, go, good Juliet.-[Noise again.] I dare no longer stay.

[Exit.

Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.— What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.-O churl! drink all, and left no friendly drop, To help me after?-I will kiss thy lips; Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them, To make me die with a restorative. Thy lips are warm!

ger!

[Kisses him.

1 Watch. [Within.] Lead, boy-which way? Jul. Yea, noise?-then I'll be brief.-O happy dag[Snatching RoMEO's Dagger. This is thy sheath; [Stabs herself;] there rest, and let me die. [Dies. Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS. Page. This is the place; there, where the torch doth

burn.

1 Watch. The ground is bloody: search about the churchyard.

Go, some of you; whoe'er you find, attach. [Exeunt some.
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead,
Pitiful sight! here lies the County slain;-
Who here hath lain these two days buried.—
Go, tell the Prince,-run to the Capulets,-
Raise up the Montagues,- -some others search.-

[Exeunt other Watchmen.
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
But the true ground of all these piteous woes
We cannot without circumstance descry.

Enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR. 2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard.

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