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Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw
Nurse. O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
Par. Beguil’d, divorced, wronged, spited, slain !
Cap. Despis’d, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd! -
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:
Cap. All things, that we ordained festival,
Fri. Sir, go you in,-and, madam, go with him ;--
Friar. 1 Mus. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.
Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up; For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.
[Erit Nurse. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
Enter Peter. Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, Heart's case, heart's case; 0, an you will have me live, play-heart's ease.
1 Mus. Why heart's ease?
Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself playsMy heart is full of woe: 0, 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? Mus. No. Pet. I will then give it you soundly. i Mus. What will you give us ?
Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek: I will give you the minstrel.
i 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? ?
i Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 2 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out
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 :
When griping grief the heart doth wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
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. 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 siloer sound,
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.
SCENE I. -Mantua. A Street.
Enter ROMEO. 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?
Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;