Upon so soft a subject as myself!-
What say'st thou ? hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse.

Nurse.

'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo
Is banished; and all the world to nothing,
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the county.
O, he's a lovely gentleman!

Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye,
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first: or if it did not,
Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
As living here and you no use of him.
Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
Nurse.

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.

Amen!

To what? Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.

Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell,
To make confession, and to be absolv'd.

Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.

[Exil.

now:

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,
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
Shall be the label to another deed,

Or my true heart with treacherous revolt

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,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous,
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway;
And, in his wisdom, hastes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society:

Now do you know the reason of this haste.
Fri. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.
[Aside.
Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell.
Enter Juliet.

Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife!
Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
Par. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday

next.

Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time
Give me some present counsel; or, behold,
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire; arbitrating that
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Which the commission of thy years and art
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,

Fri. Hold, daughter; I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry county Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself:
Then is it likely, thou wilt undertake

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

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.
La. Cap.
[Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse.
Jul. Farewell!-God knows, when we shal

I

meet again.

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?

Must I of force be married to the county ?-
No, no ;-this shall forbid it;-lie thou there.-
[Laying down a dagger.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath minister'd 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 :
I will not entertain so bad a thought.-
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo

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 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 ili news,
Since you did leave it for my office, sir.

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.
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,-whom 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 shelve3
A beggarly account of empty boxes,

Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,

Remnants of packthread, 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 fore-run my need;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
A-I remember, this should be the house:
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut-
What, ho! apothecary!

poor;

Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding geer2
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,
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery,
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,

(1) Herbs. (2) Stuff.

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. [Exe.
SCENE II.-Friar Laurence's cell. Enter Friar
John.

John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!
Enter Friar Laurence.

Lau. 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.

One of our order to associate me,
John. Going to find a barefoot brother out,
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.

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't thee.
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,

[Exit.

And keep her at my cell till Romeo come:
Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb!

[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.
Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the church-yard 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. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the church-yard; yet I will adventure.
[Retires.
Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy bri-

dal bed:

Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain
The perfect model of eternity;

Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,
Accept this latest favour at my hands;
That living honour'd thee, and, being dead,

(3) i. e. On a trivial or idle subject.