Imatges de pÓgina

My dismal scene I needs must act alone:

[Takes out the pbial. Come, vial -What if this mixture do not work at all ? Shall I of force be married to the Count ? No, no, this shall forbid it; lie thou there.

[Pointing to a dagger.
What if it be a poison, which the Friar
Subtly hath miniftred, 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 ftill been tried, a holy man
How, if when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Comes to redeem me ? there's a fearful point !
Shall I not then be ftifled in the vault,
To whose foul mouth no healthíom air breathes in?
And there be ftrangled 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 Tibalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies feftring in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort-
Alas, alas! is it not like, that I
So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
And shrieks like Mandrakes torn out of the Earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad.
Or if I wake, fhall I not be distraught,
(Invironed with all these hideous fears, )
And madly play with my forefathers joints,
And pluck the mangled Tibalt from his Throud ?
And in this

with some

great kinsman's bone
As with a club, dash out my desp'rate brains ?"
O look ! methinks I see my cousin's ghost
Seeking out Romed---Stay, Tibalt, stay!
Romeo, I come ! this do I drink to thee. [Drinks.

(She throws birself on the bed.


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. Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.

Enter Capulet and Lady meeting.
Cap. Come, ftir, ftir, ftir, the fecond cock hath

The curphew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:
Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica,
Spare not for cost.

Nurse. Go, you cot-quean go;
Get you to bed; faith you'll be fick to morrow,
For this night's watching.

Cap. No not a whit; what, I have watch'd ere now All night for a less cause, and ne'er been fick.

[Play mussck. The County will be here with musick straight, For so he said he would. I hear him near. Nurse, wife, what ho ? what nurse, I say?

Enter Nurse.

Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up

and chat with Paris : hie, make hafte ; Make hafte, I say.

[Exit Capulet.

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Nurfe. M

Scene draws and discovers Juliet on a bed.

Iftress, what mistress ! Juliet-Falt, I

warrant her, Why, lamb--why, lady-Fy, you slug-a bedWhy, love, I say-Madam, sweet-heart--why, brideWhat, not a word! you take your pennyworths now ; Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant, That you shall rest but little

God forgive me Marry and amen

How sound is the asleep?
I must needs wake her: Madam, madam, madam,
Ay, let the County take you in your bed
He'll fright you up, i'faith. Will it not be:
What, drest, and in your cloaths 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?
Ho! my lord, my lady!

Enter Lady Capulet,
La. C-p. What noise is here?
Nurje. O lamentable day!
La. Cap. What is the matter !
Nurse. Look, oh heavy day!

La. Cap. Oh me, my child, my only life!
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee :
Help, help! call help.

Enter Capulet. Cap. For shame bring Juliet forth, her lord is come. Nurle. She's dead, she's dead: alack the day! C»p. Ha! let me see her -Out alas, she's cold, Her blood is settled, and her joints are fliíf, Life and these lips have long been separated : Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetelt flower of the field. Accursed time! unfortunate old man!


Enter Friar Lawrence, 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 the wedding day
Death has embrac'd thy wife : see, there she lies.
Flower as she was, nipp'd in the bud by him !
Oh Juliet, oh my Child, Child !

Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face,
And doth it give me such a light as this?
La. Cap. Accurft

, unhappy, wretched, hateful day. Cap. Most miserable hour, that Time e'er saw In lasting labour of his pilgrimage. But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, *But one thing to enjoy and solace in, And cruel death hath catcht it from my sight.

Fri. Your daughter lives in peace and happiness;
Heav'n and yourself had part in this fair maid,
Now, heav'n hath all--dry up your fruitless tears ;
Come, stick your rosemary on this fair corps,
And as the custom of our country is,
Convey her where her ancestors lie tomb'd.

Cap. All things that we ordained to festival,
Turn from their office to black funera.:
Our Instruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding chear, to a sad burial feast ;
Our solemn hymns to fullen dirges change;
And bridal flowers serve for a buried coarle,
And all things change them to the contrary.

Fri. Sir, go you in, and Ma go with him;
And go Sir Paris, every one prepare
To follow this fair Coarse unto her grave.
The Heav'ns do low'r upon you, for some ill;
Move them no more by crossing their high will.


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The inside of a Churcb. Enter the funeral procession of Juliet, in which the

following Dirge is sung.

RISE, rife!

Heart-breaking highs
The woe-fraught bofom fwell;

For fighs alone,

And dismal moan,
Should echo Juliet's knell.


She's gore -- the feveetest flow'r of May,

That blooming bleft our sight;
Those eyes aubich hone like breaking day,

Are set in endless night!


Rife, rife! &c.

A I R.

She's gone, fbze's g ne, ner leaves behind
So fair a form, so pure a mind;
How could A thou, Death, at once deflroy,
Tbe Lover's hope, the Parent's joy?


Rift, Rise ! &c.


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