LA. CAP. Accursed, 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 woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day, most woful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!

O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:
O woful day, O woful day!

Par. Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most detestable death, by thee beguiled,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!

O love! O life! not life, but love in death!
Cap. Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd,
kill'd!

Uncomfortable time, why eamest thou now
To murder, murder our solemnity?

O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!
Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead;
And with my child my joys are buried.

Fri. L. 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 advanced :
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced
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. L. 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 lour upon you for some ill; Move them no more by crossing their high will. [Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar.

First 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. [Exit. First Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.

Enter PETER.

PET. Musicians, O, musicians, Heart's ease, Heart's ease: O, an you will have me live, play Heart's ease.

First Mus. Why Heart's ease?

Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays My heart is full of woe: O, play me some merry dump, to comfort me.

First Mus. Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now.

Pet. You will not, then?

First Mus. No.

Pet. I will then give it you soundly.

First Mus. What will you give us?

Pet. No money, on my faith, but the gleek; I will give you the minstrel.

First 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? First Mus. An you re us and fa us, you note

us.

Sec. Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

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,

Then music with her silver sound—

why silver sound? why music with her silver sound? What say you, Simon Catling?

First Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.

Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck? Sec. Mus. I say silver sound, because musicians sound for silver.

Pet. Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost?

Third 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 musicians have no gold for sounding:

Then music with her silver sound

[Exit.

With speedy help doth lend redress. FIRST Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same ! Sec. Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.

[Exeunt.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

Mantua. A street.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth 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 breathed such life with kisses in my lips,
That I revived, and was an emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!
Enter Balthasar, booted.

News from Verona !—How now, Balthasar!
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 Capel's 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.