1. Muf. Why beart's eafe? Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays-My heart is full of woe: O, play me fome merry dump, to com fort me. 2. Muf. Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. Pet. You will not the..? Muf. No. Pet. I will then give it you foundly. 1. Muf. What will you give us? Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek : I will give you the minstrel. I. Muf. Then will I give you the serving-creature. Pet. Then will I lay the ferving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, I'll fa you; Do you note me? 1. Muf. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 2. .Muf. 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 Anfwer me like men: When griping grief the heart doth wound, Then mufick, with her filver found; Why, filver found? why, mufick with her filver found? What say you, Simon Catling? 1. Muf. Marry, fir, because filver hath a fweet found. Pet. Pretty! What fay you, Hugh Rebeck ? 2. Muf. I fay-filver found, because musicians found for filver. Pet. Pretty too!-What fay you, James Soundpost? 3. Muf. 'Faith, I know not what to say. Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the finger: I will fay fay for you. It is—mufick with her filver found, because fuch fellows as you have seldom gold for founding : Then musick with her filver found, With Speedy help doth lend redress. [Exit, finging. 1. Muf. What a peftilent knave is this fame? 2. Muf. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner, [Exeunt. ACT ACT V. SCENE I. Mantua. A Street. Enter ROMEO. Rom. If I may truft the flattering eye of sleep, Ah me! how sweet is love itself poffefs'd, Enter BALTHASAR. News from Verona!-How now, Balthafar? Bal. Then he is well, and nothing can be ill; you: O pardon me for bringing thefe ill news, Since you did leave it for my office, fir. Ram. Is it even fo? then I defy you, ftars! Thou Thou know'ft my lodging: get me ink and paper, Bal. Pardon me, fir, I will not leave you thus: Rom. Tufh, thou art deceiv'd; Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do: Bal. No, my good lord. Rom. No matter: Get thee gone, And hire thofe horfes; I'll be with thee ftraight. [Exit BALTHASAR, Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to night. And hereabouts he dwells,-whom late I noted Green earthen pots, bladders, and mufty feeds, Here lives a caitiff wretch would fell it him. Being holiday, the beggar's fhop is shut. What, ho! apothecary! Ap. Enter Apothecary. Who calls fo loud? Rom. Come hither, man.-I fee, that thou art poor; Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have A dram of poifon; fuch foon-speeding geer As will difperfe itself through all the veins, That the life-weary taker may fall dead; And that the trunk may be difcharg'd of breath As violently, as hafty powder fir'd Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law Rom. Art thou fo bare, and full of wretchedness, The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law : Rom. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's fouls, Doing more murders in this loath fome world, Than these poor compounds that thou may'ft not fell: [Exeunt. SCENE |