Imatges de pàgina
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SCENE IV.

Capulet's Hall.

Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.

La. Cap.HOld, take these keys and fetch more spices,

nurfe.

Nurfe. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. Enter Capulet.

Cap. Come, ftir, ftir, ftir, the fecond cock hath crow'd, The curfeu bell hath rung, 'tis three a-clock : Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica.

Spare not for cost.

Nurfe, Go, go, you cotquean, 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 lefs caufe, and ne'er been fick.

La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time, But I will watch you, from fuch watching, now.

[Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse. Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood

Now, fellow, what's there?

Enter three or four with fpits, and logs, and baskets.

Ser. Things for the cook, Sir, but I know not what. Cap. Make hafte, make haste, firrah, fetch drier logs, Call Peter, he will fhew thee where they are.

Ser. I have a head, Sir, that will find out logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter.

Cap. Mafs and well faid, a merry whorefon, ha! Thou shalt be logger-head- -good faith, 'tis day. The County will be here with mufick ftraight, For fo he faid he would. I hear him near. [Play Mufick. Nurfe!wife!what, ho! what, nurfe, I fay?

Enter

Enter Nurse.

Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up,

I'll go and chat with Paris: hie, make hafte,
Make hafte, I fay. [Exeunt Capulet and Nurfe feverally.

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Juliet on a bed, Enter Nurfe.

Nurfe. MIftrefs! what, mistress! Juliet-Fast, I war

rant her;

Why, lamb-why, Lady- Fie, you flug-a-bed-
Why, love, I fay-Madam, fweet-heart-why, bride-
What, not a word! you take your pennyworths now;
Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,
The County Paris hath fet up his reft,

That you shall reft but little-God forgive me
Marry and amen-How found is the afleep!

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, dreft, and in your cloaths,and down again?
I muft needs wake you: Lady, lady, lady
Alas! alas! help! help! my Lady's dead.
O well-a-day, that ever I was born!
Some Aqua vita, ho! my Lord, my Lady!
Enter Lady Capulet.

La. Cap. What noife is here?

Nurfe. O lamentable day!

La. Cap. What is the matter?

Nurfe. Look,oh heavy dây!

La. Cap. Oh me, oh me, my child, my only life!

Revive, look up, or I will die with thee:

Help, help! call help.

Enter

Enter Capulet.

Cap. For fhame bring Juliet forth, her Lord is come.
Nurfe. She's dead, deceaft, fhe's dead! alack the day!
Cap. Ha! let me fee her-Out alas, fhe's cold,
Her blood is fettled, and her joints are ftiff,
Life and thefe lips have long been separated:
Death lyes on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of the field.
Accurfed time! unfortunate old man!

Enter Friar Lawrence, and Paris with Muficians.
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
Hath death lain with thy wife: fee, there fhe lyes,
Flower as fhe was, deflower'd now by him:

Death is my fon-in-law.

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, Most miferable hour, that Time e'er faw

In lafting labour of his pilgrimage!

But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and folace in,

And cruel death hath catcht it from my fight.

Nurfe. Oh woe! oh woful, woful, woful day!

Most lamentable day! moft woful day,

That ever, ever, I did yet behold!

Oh day! oh day! oh day! oh hateful day!

Never was feen fo black a day as this:

O woful day! oh woful day!

Fri. Oh peace for fhame-your daughter lives in peace And happiness, and it is vain to wish

It otherwife. Heav'n and
Heav'n and your felf had part

6

In this fair maid, now heaven 'hath her all-`
Come stick your rofemary on this fair corpfe,
And, as the custom of our country is,

6 hath all,

In

In all her beft and fumptuous ornaments
Convey her where her ancestors lye tomb'd.
Cap. All things that we ordained fettival,
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our inftruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding chear, to a fad burial feaft;
Our folemn hymns to fullen dirges change;
And bridal flow'rs ferve for a buried coarse.

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[Exeunt.

VI.

Manent Musicians and Nurse.

Muf. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone. Nurfe. Honeft good fellows: ah, put up, put up, For well you know this is a pitiful cafe. (Exit Nurfe. Muf. Ay, by my troth, the cafe may be amended.

Enter Peter.

Pet. Muficians, oh musicians, heart's ease, heart's ease: oh, an you will have me live, play heart's eafe.

Muf. Why heart's eafe?

Pet. Oh musicians, because my heart it felf plays my heart is full of woe. O play me fome merry dump, to

comfort me!

Muf. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now.
Pet. You will not then?

Muf. No.

Pet. I will then give it you foundly.

Muf. What will you give us?

Pet. No mony, on my faith; I'll re you, I'll fa you, do you note me?

Muf. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. [wit. 2 Muf. Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your Pet. Then have at you with my wit, anfwer ine like men: When griping 'grief the heart doth wound,

7

Then mufick with her filver found

7 griefs

Why

Why filver found? why mufick with her filver found?
What fay you, Simon Catling?

Muf. Marry, Sir, because filver hath a sweet found.
Pet. Pretty! what fay you, Hugh Rebeck?

[filver. 2 Muf. I lay filver found, becaufe muficians found for Pet. Pretty too! what fay you, Samuel Sound-board? 3 Muf. 'Faith, I know not what to fay.

Pet. OI cry you mercy, you are the finger, I will fay for you. It is mufick with her filver found, because fuch [Exit. fellows as you have no gold for founding. Muf. What a peftilent knave is this fame?

2 Muf. Hang him, Jack! come, we'll in here, tarry for the mourners, and ftay dinner,

[Exeunt.

I

ACT V. SCENE I

MANTU A.

Enter Romeo.

F I may truft the flattery of fleep,

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

And all this day, an unaccuftom'd fpirit

Lifts me above the ground with chearful thoughts.
I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead,

(Strange dream! that gives a dead man leave to think)
And breath'd fuch life with kiffes in my lips,
That I reviv'd, and was an Emperor.
Ah me! how fweet is love it felf poffeft,
When but love's fhadows are fo rich in joy?

News from Verona

Enter Balthafar.

Doft thou not bring me letters from the Friar?

How now, Balthafar?

How

How doth my Lady? is my father well?

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