Imatges de pÓgina

Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father well?
How fares my Juliet ? That I ask again;
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.

Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body sleeps in Capels' monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives;
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
And presently took post to tell it to you:
O pardon me for bringing these ill news,
Since you did leave it for my office, sir.

Rom. Is it even so ? then I defy you, stars !
Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses ; I will hence to-night.

Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus:
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure.

Tush, thou art deceiv'd;
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do:
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar ?

Bal. No, my good lord.
No matter: Get thee

gone, And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.

[Exit BALTHASAR. Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. Let's see for means : O, mischief! thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men ! I do remember an apothecary, And hereabouts he dwells,—whom late I noted In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples ; meager were his looks, Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff'd', and other skins

9 An alligator stuff'd,] I was many years ago assured, that formerly, when an apothecary first engaged with his druggist, he was gratuitously furnished by him with these articles of show, which were then imported for that use only. I have met with the alligator, tortoise, &c. hanging up in the shop of an ancient apothecary at Limehouse, as well as in places more remote from our metropolis. See Hogarth's Marriage Alamode, Plate III.-It may be remarked, however, that the apothecaries dismissed their alligators, &c. some time before the physicians were willing to part with their amber-headed canes and solemn periwigs. STEEVENS.

Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said -
An if a man? did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
O, this same thought did but fore-run my need;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house:
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.-
What, ho! apothecary!

Enter Apothecary. Ap.

Who calls so loud ? Rom. Come hither, man.--I see, that thou art poor ; Hold, there is forty ducats : let me have A dram of poison ; such soon-speeding geer As will disperse itself through all the veins, That the life-weary taker may fall dead; And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath As violently, as hasty 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.

1 An if a man, &c.] This phraseology, which means simply - If, was not unfrequent in Shakspeare's time and before.

Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,
And fear'st to die ? famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes,
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery,
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, consents.
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 despatch you straight.

Rom. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not sell : I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. Farewell ; buy food, and get thyself in flesh.Come, cordial, and not poison; go with me To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee. [Exeunt.


Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter Friar John.
John. Holy Franciscan friar ! brother, ho!

Enter Friar LAURENCE.

Lau. This same should be the voice of friar John.Welcome from Mantua : What says 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 associate me, ?

2 One of our order, to associate me,] Each friar has always a companion assigned him by the superior when he asks leave to go out; and thus they are a check upon each other.

Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the town,
Suspecting, that we both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Seald up the doors, and would not let us forth;
So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.

Lau. Who bare my letter then to Romeo ?
John. I could not send it,

- here it is again,
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.

Lau. Unhappy fortune ! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice', 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 straight.
Unto my cell.

John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [Exit.

Lau. Now must I to the monument alone; Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake; She will beshrew me much, that Romeo 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 corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb ! [Exit.


A Churchyard; in it, a Monument belonging to the


Enter Paris, and his Page, bearing Flowers and a Torch. Par. Give me thy torch, boy: Hence, and stand



3 was not nice,) i. e. was not written on a trivial subject.

Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,)
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.

Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.

Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy bridal bed:
Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain
The perfect model of eternity;
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,
Accept this latest favour at my hands;
That living honour'd thee, and, being dead,
With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb !

[The Boy whistles. The boy gives warning, something doth approach. What cursed foot wanders this way to-night, To cross my obsequies, and true love's rites ? What, with a torch! - muffle me, night, awhile.


Enter Romeo and BALTHASAR, with a Torch, Mattock,


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'st or seest, stand all aloof, And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death, Is, partly, to behold my lady's face: But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger

« AnteriorContinua »