Upon so soft a subject as myself!- Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, madam, Or else beshrew them both. Jul. Nurse. Par. Come you to make confession to this father? Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you. Par. Do not deny to him, that you love me. Jul. I will confess to you, that I love him. Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me. Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Jul. The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough, before their spite. Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report. Jul. That is no slander, sir, that is a truth; And what I spake, I spake it to my face. Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. Amen! To what? Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in; and tell my lady I am gone, Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [Exil. now: My lord, we must entreat the time alone. Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion!- (Erit Paris. Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me; Past hope, past cure, past help! Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; Jul. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! Is it more sin-to wish me thus forsworn, Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she hath prais'd him with above compare So many thousand times ?-Go, counsellor ; Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.I'll to the friar, to know his remedy; If all else fail, myself have power to die. ACT IV. And with this knife I'll help it presently. God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands, Or my true heart with treacherous revolt SCENE I.-Friar Laurence's cell. Enter Friar Turn to another, this shall slay them both: Laurence and Paris, Fri. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. Par. My father Capulet will have it so; And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste. Fri. You say, you do not know the lady's mind; Uneven is the course, I like it not. Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, Now do you know the reason of this haste. Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife! next. Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time Fri. Hold, daughter; I do spy a kind of hope, A thing like death to chide away this shame, That cop'st with death himself to scape from it; And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy. Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower; Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless sculls; Or bid me go into a new-made grave, And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; And I will do it without fear or doubt, (2) Authority or power. To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. Fri. Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow; To-morrow-night look that thou lie alone, Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: Take thou this phial, being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off: When, presently, through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep His natural progress, but surcease to beat: No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st; The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall, Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; Each part, depriv'd of supple government, Shall stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death: And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours, And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: Then (as the manner of our country is,) In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier, Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault, Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. In the mean time, against thou shalt awake, Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift; And hither shall he come; and he and I Will watch thy waking, and that very night, Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua, And this shall free thee from this present shame; If no unconstant toy, nor womanish fear, Abate thy valour in the acting it. Jul. Give me, O give me! tell me not of fear. Fri. Hold; get you gone, be strong and pros Henceforward I am ever ruled 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 becomed' love I might, Not stepping o'er the bonds of modesty. Cap. Why, I am glad on't; this is well,-stand up. 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. Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet, To help me sort such needful ornaments As you think it 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-morrow. [Exeunt Juliet and Nurse. 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 wondrous light, Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. [Exe. SCENE III.-Juliet's chamber. Enter Juliet La. Cap. What, are you busy? do you need my help? Jul. No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries En-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; For, I am sure, you have your hands full all, In this so sudden business. Good night! SCENE II-A room in Capulet's house. ter 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, my daughter gone to friar Laurence? Nurse. Ay, forsooth. Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her: Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. I meet again. have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, My dismal scene I needs must act alone.- What if this mixture do not work at all? Must I of force be married to the county ?- Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, The horrible conceit of death and night, So carly waking-what with loathsome smells; For so he said he would. I hear him near:- Go, waken Juliet, go, and trim her up; SCENE V.-Juliet's chamber; Juliet on the Nurse. Mistress!-what, mistress!-Juliet !fast, I warrant her, she : 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, (Marry and amen!) how sound is she asleep! SCENE IV.-Capulet's hall. Enter Lady Cap-9, well-a-day, that ever I was born!- ulet and Nurse. La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse. Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.3 La. Cap. What noise is here? O lamentable day! La. Cap. What is the matter? she's dead. Cap. Ha! let me see her :-Out, alas, she's cold; O woful time! 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? O son, the night before thy wedding-day (2) Distracted. (3) The room where pies were made. (4) Mouse was a term of endearment to a woman. 409 Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's heart's ease; O, an you will have me live, play→→ face, heart's ease. And doth it give me such a sight as this? La. Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight. Par. Beguil'd divorced, wronged, spited, slain! O child! O child!-my soul, and not my child!- Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not In these confusions. Heaven and yourself Cap. All things, that we ordained festival, And go, sir Paris;-every one prepare gone. Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up; put up; For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. [Exit Nurse. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. Enter Peter. Pe. Musicians, O musicians, Heart's ease, (1) Dumps were heavy mournful tunes. (2) To gleek is to scoff, and a gleekman signified a minstrel, 1 Mus. Why heart's ease? Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays -My heart is full of wo: O, play me some merry dump,' to comfort me. 2 Mus. Not a dump we; tis no time to play now. Pet. You will not then? 2 Mus. No. Pet. I will then give it you soundly. 1 Mus. What will you give us? 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 fa 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 drybeat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger:-Answer me like men: When griping grief the heart doth wound, Why, silver sound? why, music with her silver What say you, Simon Catling? 1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?? 2 Mus. I say-silver sound, because musicians sound for silver. Pet. Pretty 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 such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding: Then music with her silver sound, [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. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I.-Mantua. A street. Enter Romeo. Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, Enter Balthasar. News from Verona!-How now, Balthasar? (3) And the jocund rebecks sound.' MILTOS. (4) i. e. Love. Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill; Rom. Is it even 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. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus: Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure. Rom. Tush, thou art deceiv'd; Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do: Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? Bal. No, my good lord. And hereabouts he dwells,-whom late I noted Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses, O, this same thought did but fore-run my need; poor; Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness, (1) Herbs. (2) Stuff. And drink it off; and, if you had the strength Doing more murders in this loathsome world, I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! Lau. This same should be the voice of friar Welcome from Mantua: What says Romeo? One of our order to associate me, Lau. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood, John. Brother, I'll go and bring't thee. [Exit. And keep her at my cell till Romeo come: [Exil. SCENE III-A church-yard; in it, a monument belonging to the Capulets. Enter Paris; and his Page, bearing flowers and a torch. Par. Give me thy torch, boy: Hence, and stand aloof; Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. dal bed: Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain, (3) i. e. On a trivial or idle subject. |