I

SCENE II.

MANTU A.

Enter Romeo.

F I may truft the flattery of fleep,

My dreams prefage fome joyful news at hand: My hofom's lord fits lightly on his throne,

And all this day, an unaccustom'd fpirit

Lifts me above the ground with chearful thoughts.
I dreamt, my lady came and found me dead,
And breath'd fuch life with kiffes on my lips,
'That I reviv'd and was an Emperor.
Ah me! how fweet is love itfelt poffeft,
When but love's fhadows are fo rich in joy?

Enter Balthazar.

News from Verona. How now, Balthazar?
Doft thou not bring me letters from the Friar?
How doth my lady; is my father well?
How doth my Juliet? that I afk again,
For nothing can be ill if the be well?

Bal. Then fhe is well, and nothing can be ill,
Her body fleeps in Capulet's monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives:
I fav her carried to her kindred's vault,
And prefently took poft to tell it you i
O, pardon me for bringing these ill news.

Rem.

·Rom Is it even fo? then I defy you, stars Bal. My lord!

Rom. 1 hou know'ft my lodging, get me ink and paper, And hire poft-horfes. I will hence to-night.

Bal Pardon me, Sir, I dare not leave you thus. Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some mifadventure

Rom. Go, thou art deceiv'd;

Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do:
Haft thou no letters to me from the Friar?
Bal. No, good my lord.

Rom. No matter: Get thee gone,

And hire thofe horfes, I'll be with thee straight.

[Exit Balthafar.
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night;
Let's fee for means- -O mifchief! thou art swift
To enter in the thought of defperate men!.
I do remember an Apothecary,

And hereabouts he dwells, who late I noted
In tatter'd weeds with overwhelming brows,
Culling of fimples, meagre were his looks,
Sharp mifery had worn him to the bones:
And ih his needy fhop a tortoife hung,
An alligator ftuft, and other skins
Of ill-fhap'd fishes; and about his fhelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes;

Green earthen pots, bladders, and mufty feeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of rotes
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a fhew.
Noting his penury, to myfelf I faid,

An' if a man did need a poifon now,

Here lives a caitiff wretch would fell it him.
Oh this fame thought did but forerun my need;
As I remember, this fhould be the house,
Being holy-day, the beggar's fhop is fhut.
What, ho, Apothecary!

Rom. Come hither, man; I fee that thou art poor;

F 2

Hold,

Hold, there are forty ducats: let me have
A dram of poifon, fuch foon-fpeeding gear,
As will difperfe itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may foon die.

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua's law
Is death to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou fo bare and full of wretchedness,
And fear'ft to die? famine is in thy cheeks;
Need and oppreffion ftare within thine 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, confents. [Exit.
Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.

[Apothecary returns. Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will, And drink it off, and if you had the ftrength Of twenty men, it would difpatch you ftraight.

Rom. There is thy gold, worfe poifon to mens fouls, Doing more murder in this loathfome world, Than thefe poor compounds that thou may'ft not fell: I fell thee poison, thou haft fold me none. Farewel, buy food, and get thec into flesh. Come cordial, and not poifon, go with me to Juliet's grave, for there muft I ufe thee.

[Exéunt.

The Monastery at Verona.

Enter Friar John to Friar Lawrence.

John. H Law. This fame fhould be the voice of Friar

TJOly Francifcan Friar! brother! ho!

John.

Welcome from Mantua; what says Romeo?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.

John

John, Going to find a barefoot brother out,
One of our order, to affociate me,
Here in this city visiting the fick;

And finding him, the fearchers of the town,
(Sufpecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious peftilence did reign)
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth,
So that my speed to Mantua there was ftaid.
Law. Who bore my letter then to Romeo?
John. I could not fend it; here it is again,
Nor get a mellenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.

Law. 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. Fria John, go hence,
Get me an iron crow, and being it straight
Unto my cell.

John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.
Law. Now must I to the monument alone:
Within these three hours will fair Juliet wake;
She will befhrew 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 coarfe, clos'd in a dead man's tomb!

[Exit.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

A Church-yard: In it, a Monument belonging to the

Capulets.

Enter Paris, and his Tage with a light.

Par. Ive me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof,

Genery out,

Yet put it our, for I would not be seen;

Under yon' yew-tree lay thee all along,

Placing thy ear close to the hollow ground,

So fhall no foot upon the church-yard tread,
(being loofe, unfirm, with digging up of graves)
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
As fignal that thou hear'ft fomething approach.
Give me thofe flow'rs. Do as I bid thee; go.
Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the church-yard, yet I will adventure. [Exit.
Par. Sweet flow'r! with flow'rs thy bridal bed I ftrow;
[Strewing flowers.
Fair Juliet, that with angels doft remain,

Accept this latest favour at my hand,

That living honour'd thee, and, being dead,

With fun'ral obfequies adorn thy tomb. [The boy whifiles..
-The boy gives warning, fomething doth approach-
What curfed foot wanders this way to-night,

To cross my obfequies? and true loves rite?
What, with a torch? muffle me, night, a while.

Rom.

SCENE IV.

[Paris retires

Enter Romeo and Balthafar with a light.
ive me the wrenching iron.

G Hold, take this letter, early in the morning

See thou deliver it to my lord and father,

Put out the torch, and, on thy life, I charge thes,
Whate'er thou hear'ft or feeft, ftand all aloof..
And do not interrupt me in my courfe.
Why I defcend 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; therefore hence, be gone;
But if thou, jealous, doft return to pry
In what I further fhall intend to do,
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,

And ftrew this hungry church-yard with thy limbs;

The