Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
Par. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday
Jul. What must be shall be.
Fri.
That's a certain text.
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.
Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own.-
Are you at leisure, holy father, now;
Or shall I come to you at evening mass?
Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter,
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
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 skulls;
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,
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
Par. Now heaven forbid, I should disturb de- Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours,
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you:
Till then, adieu! and keep this holy kiss.
[Exit 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;
It strains me past the compass of my wits:
I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this county.
Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:
If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with this knife I'll help it presently.
Love 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
Turn to another, this shall slay them both:
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 3; arbitrating that
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.
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;
3 Decide the struggle between me and my distresses.
Authority or power.
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 inconstant 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 prosperous
In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.
Jul. Love, give me strength! and strength shall
help afford.
Farewell, dear father!
Το
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 becomed 6 love I might, Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.
Cap. Why, I am glad on't; this is well,-stand
This is as 't should be. Let me see the county;
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.—
Now, by my life, 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 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-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.
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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
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,
Where for these many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies fest'ring in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort;
Alack, alack! is it not like, that I,
So early waking, what with loathsome smell,
And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad 8;—
O! if I wake, shall I not be distraught 9,
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, I come! this do I drink to thee.
[She throws herself on the Bed.
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8 The fabulous accounts of the plant called a mandrake give It a degree of animal life, and when it is torn from the ground It groans, which is fatal to him that pulls it up.
The room where pics were made.
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,
[Exit.
A merry fellow ! ha,
Good faith, 'tis day:
musick straight,
And never trouble Peter for the matter.
Cap. 'Mass, and well said: Thou shalt be logger-head. The county will be here with
[Musick within. For so he said he would. I hear him near: —
Nurse! - Wife! — what, ho! —what, nurse, I say!
Go, waken Juliet, go, and trim her up;
I'll and chat with Paris:
go
Hie, make haste,
Make haste! the bridegroom he is come already :
Make haste, I say!
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 bride: - See, 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 leaving, 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 woeful, woeful, woeful day!
Most lamentable day! most woeful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
SCENE V.-Juliet's Chamber; Juliet on the Bed. Never was seen so black a day as this:
Nurse. Mistress! - what, mistress! - Juliet! fast, I warrant :
O woeful day, O woeful day!
Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! Most détestable death, by thee beguil'd, By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown! Why, lamb! why, lady! fye, you slug-a- O love! O life!
madam! sweetheart! - why,
-not life, but love in death! Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
Uncomfortable time! why cam'st thou now What, not a word? - you take your pennyworths To murder, murder our solemnity?
I needs must wake her: - - Madam, madam, madam!
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 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
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 washer 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
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.
Pet. I will then give it you soundly.
1 Mus. What will you give us?
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,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
Then musick, with her silver sound;
Why, silver sound? why, musick with her silver sound?
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: 1 will say for you. It is-musick with her silver sound,
Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek+: I because such fellows as you have seldom gold for 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.
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 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?
News from Verona!- How now, Balthazar?
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 ill 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. 3 Dumps were heavy mournful tunes.
To gleek is to scoff, and a gleekman signified a minstrel.
Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus: Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure.
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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 shelves
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 -
And 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.
As I remember, this should be the house:
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
What, ho! apothecary!
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 thine 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,
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
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.
Welcome from Mantua: What says Romeo?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
John. Going to find a barefoot 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.
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 thee. Lau. Now must I to the monument alone; Within these three hours will fair Juliet wake;
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.
yon 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. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.
Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy bridal 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,
With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb!
[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 rites? What, with a torch!-muffle me, night, a while. [Retires.
Enter ROMEO and BALTHAZAR, 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 see'st 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
A precious ring; a ring that I must use
In dear employment 7: therefore hence, begone:
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further 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:
Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow. Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout; His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Retires. Rom. Thou détestable maw, thou womb of death, 7 i. e. A matter of importance.
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