Imatges de pÓgina
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Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse. La. Cap. Hold, take these keys and fetch more spices, Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.

Enter Capulet.
Cap. Come, stir, ftir, stir, the second 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.

Nurse, 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 less cause, and ne'er been fick.

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

[Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse. Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hoodNow, fellow, what's there?

Enter three or four with spits, and logs, and baskets. Ser. Things for the cook, Sir, but I know not what.

Cap. Make hafte, make hafte, firrah, fetch drier logs, Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are.

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

Cap. Mass and well said, a merry whoreson, ha! Thou shalt be logger-head -good faith, 'cis day. The County will be here with musick straight, For so he said he would. I hear him near. [Play Musick. Nursewife! what, ho! what, nurse, I say?


Enter Nurse.
Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up,
I'll go and chat with Paris : hie, make haste,
Make haste, I say. [Exeunt Capulet and Nurse severally.

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Juliet on a bed, Enter Nurse.
Nurse. Mftreist what

, mistress ! JulietFast, I war

Why, lamb-why, Lady-Fie, you Nug-a-bed-
Why, love, I say-Madam, sweet-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 set up his reft,
That you shall rest but little —God forgive me
Marry and amen-How sound is she asleep!
I must needs wake her: Madam, madam, madam!
Ay, let the County take you in your bed
He'll fright you up, i'faich. 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!
Some Aqua vitæ, ho! my Lord, my Lady!

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

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


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Enter Capulet.
Cap. For shame bring Juliet forth, her Lord is come.
Nurse. She's dead, deceast, she's dead! alack the day!

Cap. Ha! let me see her-Out alas, she's cold,
Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff,
Life and these 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 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
Hath death lain with thy wife : see, there she lyes,
Flower as she was, deflower'd now by him:
Death is my son-in-law..

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

La. Cap. Accurit, unhappy, wretched, hateful day,
Moit 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 rejoice and folace in,
And cruel death hath catch it from my sight.

Nurse. Oh woe! oh woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day! most woful day,
That ever, ever, I did
Oh day! oh day! oh day! oh hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this :
O woful day! oh woful day!

Fri. On peace for shame your daughter lives in peace
And happiness, and it is vain to wish
It otherwise. Heav'n and your self had part
In this fair maid, now heaven 'hath her all-
Come stick your rosemary on this fair corpse,
And, as the custom of our country is,

6 hath all,

yet behold!

In all her best and sumptuous ornaments
Convey her where her ancestors lye tomb'd.

Cap. All things that we ordained fettival,
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding chear, to a fad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change ;
And bridal flow'rs ferve for a buried coarse.


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Manent Musicians and Nurse. Muf. '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 Nurse. Muf. Ay, by my troth, the case


be amended.

Enter Peter.

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

Muf. Why heart's ease?

Pet. Oh musicians, because my heart it self plays my heart is full of woe. Oplay me some merry dump, to comfort me!

Muf. Not a dump we, 'ris no time to play now.
Pet. You will not then?
Muf. No.
Pei. 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? Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 2 Mus. Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your

Pet. Then thave at you with my wit, answer ine like men: When griping ?'grief the beart doth wound, Iben musick with ber silver found

Why 7 griefs


Why silver found? why musick with her silver found ?
What say you, Simon Catling?

Muf. Marry, Sir, because silver hath a sweet found.
Pet. Pretty! what say you, Hugh' Rebeck ? [silver.
2 Muf. I lay silver found, because musicians found for
Pet. Pretty too! what say you, Samuel Sound-board?
3 Muf. 'Faith, I know not what to say.

Pet. O I cry you mercy, you are the finger, I will say for you. It is musick with her silver sound, because such fellows as you have no gold for founding.

(Exit. Muf. What a pestilent knave is this fame?

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



Μ Α Ν Τ υ Α.

Enter Romeo.



My dreams presage fome joyful news at hand :

My bosom's lord sits lightly on his throne,
And all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit
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 such life with kisses in my lips,
That I reviv'd, and was an Emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love it self poffest,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy?

Enter Balthafar.
News from Verona How now, Balthafar ?
Dost thou not bring me letters from the Friar?
How doth my Lady? is my father well?


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