Imatges de pàgina
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How doth my Juliet? that I ask again,
For nothing can be ill, if fhe be well.

Bal. Then he is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body fleeps in Capulet's monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives:
I faw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
And presently took poft to tell it you:
O pardon me for bringing thefe ill news.

Rom. Is it even fo? then I defy you, ftars!
Thou know'ft my lodging, get me ink and paper,
And hire poft-horfes. I will hence to-night.

Bel. Pardon me, Sir, I dare not leave you thus. Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some mifadventure.

Rom. Tufh, thou art deceiv'd;

Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do:
Haft thou no letters to me from the Friar?
Bal. No, good my Lord.

Rom. No matter: Get thee gone,

And hire thofe horfes, I'll be with thee ftraight. [Exit Bal. Well, Juliet, I will lye with thee to-night;

Let's fee for means

O mifchief! thou art swift

To enter in the thought of defperate men.
I do remember an Apothecary,

And hereabouts he dwells, whom late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of fimples; meager 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,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of rofes
Were thinly fcattered, to make up a fhew.
Noting this penury, to my felf I faid,
An if a man did need a poifon now,
Whofe fale is present death in Mantua,

Here

Here lives a caitiff wretch would fell it him.
Oh, this fame thought did but fore-run my need,
And this fame needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this fhould be the house.
Being holy-day, the beggar's fhop is fhut.
What, ho! apothecary!

Enter Apothecary.

Ap. 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 it felf thro' all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead;
And that the trunk may be discharg❜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 Is death to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou fo bare and full of wretchednefs, And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppreffion ftare within thine eyes, Contempt and beggary hang on thy back : The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law; The world affords no law to make thee rich, Then be not poor, but break it and take this. Ap. My poverty, but not my will, confents. Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will, And drink it off, and if you had the strength Of twenty men it would difpatch you ftraight. Rom. There is thy gold, worfe poifon to mens fouls, Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou may ft not fell: I fell thee poifon, thou haft fold me none. Farewel, buy food, and get thee into flesh. Come, cordial, and not poifon, go with me To Juliet's grave, for there muft I ufe thee.

[Exeunt. SCENE

SC EN E II.

The Monaftery at Verona.

Enter Friar John.

OLY Franciscan Friar! brother! ho!

John. HOLY

Enter Friar Lawrence to him.

Law. This fame fhould be the voice of Friar John.
Welcome from Mantua, what fays Romeo?
Or if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
John. Going to find a bare-foot brother out,
One of our order, to affociate me,
Here in this city vifiting the fick;
And finding him, the fearchers of the town
Sufpecting that we both were in a house.
Where the infectious peftilence did reign,
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth,
So that my speed to Mantua there was staid.
Law. Who bore my letter then to Romeo?
John. I could not fend it; here it is again;
Nor get a meffenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.

Law. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice, a but full of charge,
Of dear import, and the neglecting it

May do much danger. Friar John, go hence,
Get me an iron crow, and bring it ftraight
Unto my cell.

John. Brother, I'll go and bring it.
Law. Now muft I to the monument alone:
Within these three hours will fair Juliet wake;
She will befhrew me much, that Romeo

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(a) By nice here is meant thin, flight, of little substance. 8 bring it thee.

[Exit.

Hath

Hath had no notice of these accidents:

But I will write again to Mantua,

And keep her at my cell 'till Romeo come.

Poor living coarfe, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! [Exit.

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A Church-yard: In it, a Monument belonging to the

Capulets.

Enter Paris and his Page, with a light.

Par. GIVE

IVE me thy torch, boy; hence, and stand
aloof.

Yet put it out, for I would not be feen:
Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
Laying thy ear close to the hollow ground;
So fhall no foot upon the church-yard tread,
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves)
But thou fhalt hear it whistle then to me,
As fignal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flow'rs. Do as I bid thee; go.
I am almoft afraid to ftand alone

Page.
Here in the church-yard, yet I will adventure.

[Exit.

Par. Sweet flow'r! with flowers thy bridal bed I ftrew:

Fair Juliet, that with angels doft remain,

Accept this latest favour at my hand,

[Strewing flowers.

That living honour'd thee, and being dead

With fun'ral obfequies adorn thy tomb. [The Boy whistles: The boy gives warning, fomething doth approach,What curfed foot wanders this way to-night,

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To cross my obfequies, and true love's rites?
What! with a torch? muffle me, night, a while.

SCENE

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1

Enter Romeo and Balthafar with a light. Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching iron. Hold, take this letter, early in the morning See thou deliver it to my lord and father. Give me the light; upon thy life I charge thee, Whate'er thou hear'ft or feeft, ftand all aloof, And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I defcend into this bed of death, Is partly to behold my Lady's face: But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger A precious ring, a ring that I must use In dear employment; therefore hence, be gone: But if thou, jealous, doft return to pry In what I further fhall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint, And ftrew this hungry church-yard with thy limbs, The time and my intents are favage, wild,

More fierce and more inexorable far

Than empty tygers, or the roaring fea.

Bal. I will be gone, Sir, and not trouble you. Rom. So fhalt thou win my favour. Take thou that, Live and be profp'rous, and farewel, good fellow! Bal. For all this fame, I'll hide me hereabout;

His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.

[Balthafar retires.

Rom. Thoumaw deteftable, thou womb of death, Gorg'd with the deareft morfel of the earth,

Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,

[Breaking open the monument.

And in defpight I'll cram thee with more food.
Par. This is that banish'd haughty Mountague

That murther'd my love's coufin; (with which grief

It is fuppofed the fair creature dy'd,)

And here is come to do fome villainous fhame

U 2

9 Peter...old edit. Theob. emend.

i deteftable maw,

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