SCENE draws and difcovers Juliet on a bed. Nurse. MIftrefs, what mittress! Juliet—Fast, I her, Why, lamb-why, lady-Fy, you flug-a bed- and down again! Enter Lady Capulet, La. Cap. What noife is here? La. Cap. Oh me, my child, my only life! Enter Capulet. Cap. For fhame bring Juliet forth, her lord is come. Nurle. She's dead, fhe's dead: alack the day! Cop. Ha! let me fee her-Out alas, fhe's cold, Her blood is fettled, and her joints are stiff, Life and thefe lips have long been feparated: Death lies on her, like an untimely froft Upon the fweetest flower of the field. Accurfed time! unfortunate old man! Exter 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 fon, the night before the wedding-day Death has embrac'd thy wife: fee, there the lies. Flower as fhe was, nipp'd in the bud by him! Oh Juliet, oh my Child, Child ! Par. Have I thought long to fee this morning's face, And doth it give me fuch a fight as this? La. Cap. Accurft, unhappy, wretched, hateful day. Cap. Molt miferable hour, that Time e'er faw In lafting labour of his pilgrimage. But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, And cruel death hath catcht it from my fight. Fri. Your daughter lives in peace and happiness; Convey her where her ancestors lie tomb'd. [Exeunt ACT V. SCENE I. The infide of a Church. Enter the funeral proceffion of Juliet, in which the following Dirge is fung. She's gore-the faweeteft fow'r of May, That blooming bleft our fight; Those eyes aubich fhone like breaking day, Are fet in endless night! CHORU S. Rife, rife! &c. AIR. She's gone, fhe's g ne, nor leaves behind How could thou, Death, at once deflroy, CHORU S. Rife, Rife! &c. AIR. F may truft the flattery of fleep, My bofom's lord fits lightly on his throne, Lifts me above the ground with chearful thought. Enter Balthazar News from Verona How now, Balthazar ? Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill, Roms Rom. Thou know'ft my lodging, get me ink and paper, And hire post-horfes. I will hence to-night. Bal. Pardon me, Sir, I dare not leave you thus. Rom. Go, thou art deceiv'd; Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do: Rom. No matter: Get thee gone, And hire those horses, I'll be with thee ftraight. Let's fee for means [Exit Balthazar. Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to night; O mischief! thou art swift To enter in the thought of defperate men! I do remember an Apothecary, ́ ́And hereabout he dwells, whom 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 in his needy fhop a tortoife hung, An alligator ftuft, and other skins Of ill-fhap'd fishes; and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes; Green earthen pots, bladders, and mufty feeds, 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, Being holy-day, the beggar's shop is fhut. Enter Apothecary. Ap, Who calls so loud ? Ram Come hither, man; I fee that thou art poor; Hold, there are forty ducats: let me have A dram of poifon, fuch foon-speeding geer, As will difperfe itself thro' all the veins, That the life-weary Taker may foon die. |