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And doleful dumps the mind oppress',
Then musick, with her silver sound;

Why, silver sound? why, musick with her silver sound?

What say you, Simon Catling 2 ?

1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.

PET. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck3 ? 2 Mus. I say-silver sound, because musicians sound for silver.

PET. Pretty too!-What say you, James Soundpost?

3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say.

PET. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer : I will say for you. It is-musick with her silver sound, because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding :—


And doleful dumps the mind oppress.] This line I have recovered from the old copy [1597]. It was wanting to complete the stanza as it is afterwards repeated. STEEVENS.

2-Simon CATLING?] A catling was a small lute-string made of catgut. STEEVENS.

In An Historical Account of Taxes under all Denominations in the Time of William and Mary, p. 336, is the following article: "For every gross of catlings and lutestring," &c. A. C.

3 Hugh Rebeck?] The fidler is so called from an instrument with three strings, which is mentioned by several of the old writers. Rebec, rebecquin. See Menage, in v. Rebec. So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle: " Tis present death for these fidlers to tune their rebecks before the great Turk's grace." In England's Helicon, 1600, is The Shepherd Arsilius, his Song to his Rebeck, by Bar. Yong. STEevens. It is mentioned by Milton, as an instrument of mirth :

"When the merry bells ring round,

"And the jocund rebecks sound



- silver sound,] So, in the Return from Parnassus, 1606: "Faith, fellow fidlers, here's no silver sound in this place." Again, in Wily Beguiled, 1606:

what harmony is this

"With silver sound that glutteth Sophos' ears?"

Spenser perhaps is the first author of note who used this phrase:

Then musick with her silver sound,
With speedy help doth lend redress.

[Exit, singing.

1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same? 2 Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt.

“A silver sound that heavenly musick seem'd to make." STEEVENS.

Edwards's song preceded Spenser's poem. MALONE. 5-because such fellows as you-] Thus the quarto 1597. The others read-because musicians. I should suspect that a fidler made the alteration. STEEVENS.

6 Exeunt.] The quarto of 1597 differs so much from the subsequent copies in this scene, that I have given it entire as it stands in that copy:

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"Enter Mother.

"Moth. What, are you busy? do you need my help? "Jul. No, madam; I desire to lie alone,

"For I have many things to think upon.


Moth. Well, then, good night; be stirring, Juliet,

"The county will be early here to-morrow.


• Jul. Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
"Ah, I do take a fearful thing in hand.
"What if this potion should not work at all,
"Must I of force be married to the county?
"This shall forbid it. Knife, lie thou there.
"What if the friar should give me this drink
"To poison me, for fear I should disclose
"Our former marriage? Ah, I wrong him much;
"He is a holy and religious man:

"I will not entertain so bad a thought.
"What if I should be stifled in the tomb?
"Awake an hour before the appointed time?
"Ah then I fear I shall be lunatick ;


"And playing with my dead forefathers' bones,
"Dash out my frantick brains. Methinks I see
My cousin Tybalt welt'ring in his blood,
"Seeking for Romeo: stay, Tybalt, stay!
"Romeo, I come; this do I drink to thee.

[She falls upon her bed within the curtains. "Enter Nurse with herbs, and Mother. "Moth. That's well said, Nurse; set all in readiness; "The county will be here immediately.


Mantua. A Street.

Enter ROMEO.

Roм. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep",

"Enter Old Man.


Cap. Make haste, make haste, for it is almost day, "The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis four o'clock; "Look to your bak'd meats, good Angelica.

“Nur. Go get you to bed, you cotqueen. sick anon.

I'faith you will be

"Cap. I warrant thee, Nurse; I have ere now watch'd all night, and have taken no harm at all.

"Moth. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time.

"Enter Serving Man with logs and coals.

"Cap. A jealous hood, jealous hood: How now, sirra? "What have you there?


"Ser. Forsooth, logs.

Cap. Go, go choose drier. Will will tell thee where thou shalt fetch them.

"Ser. Nay, I warrant, let me alone; I have a head I trow to choose a log.


"Cap. Well, go thy way; thou shalt be loggerhead. "Come, come, make haste, call up your daughter, "The county will be here with musick straight. "Gods me, he's come: Nurse, call up my daughter.

"Nur. Go, get you gone. What lamb, what lady bird! fast, I warrant. What Juliet! well, let the county take you in your bed you sleep for a week now; but the next night, the county Paris hath set up his rest that you shall rest but little. What, lamb, I say, fast still: what, lady, love! what, bride! what, Juliet! Gods me, how sound she sleeps! Nay, then I see I must wake you, indeed. What's here, laid on your bed? dress'd in your cloaths, and down? Ah me! alack the day! some aqua vitæ! ho!

"Enter Mother.

"Moth. How now? what's the matter?

"Nur. Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! "Moth. Accurst, unhappy, miserable time.

"Enter Old Man.

"Cap. Come, come, make haste, where's my daughter?

My dreams presage some joyful news at hand * : My bosom's lord sits lightly


in his throne;


"Moth. Ah, she's dead, she's dead.

Cap. Stay, let me see, all pale and wan. Accursed time, unfortunate old man.


"Enter Friar and Paris.

"Par. What is the bride ready to go to church? Cap. Ready to go, but never to return. "O son, the night before thy wedding day "Hath death lain with thy bride; flower as she is, "Deflower'd by him! see where she lies; "Death is my son-in-law; to him I give all that I have.

"Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face, "And doth it now present such prodigies? "Accurst, unhappy, miserable man, "Forlorn, forsaken, destitute I am;

"Born to the world to be a slave in it.

* Quarto A, dreame presaged some good event to come.
+ Quarto A, cheerfull.

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"Distress'd, remediless, and unfortunate.

"O heavens, O nature, wherefore did you make me, "To live so vile, so wretched as I shall?



Cap. O here she lies that was our hope, our joy; "And being dead, dead sorrow nips us all.

[All at once cry out and wring their hands. "All cry. And all our joy, and all our hope is dead, "Dead, lost, undone, absented, wholly fled.

"Cap. Cruel, unjust, impartial destinies,

Why to this day have you preserv'd my life? "To see my hope, my stay, my joy, my life, Depriv'd of sense, of life, of all, by death? "Cruel, unjust, impartial destinies.



Cap. O sad fac'd sorrow, map of misery, Why this sad time have I desir'd to see? "This day, this unjust, this impartial day, "Wherein I hop'd to see my comfort full, "To be depriv'd by sudden destiny?

"Moth. O woe, alack, distress'd, why should I live?

"To see this day, this miserable day?
"Alack the time that ever I was born
"To be partaker of this destiny!
"Alack the day, alack and well-a-day!

"Fr. O peace, for shame, if not for charity. "Your daughter lives in peace and happiness,

And, all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.

"And it is vain to wish it otherwise.

'Come, stick your rosemary in this dead corse; "And as the custom of our country is,


"In all her best and sumptuous ornaments, Convey her where her ancestors lie tomb'd.


Cap. Let it be so, come woeful sorrow mates, "Let us together taste this bitter fate.


[They all but the Nurse go forth, casting rosemary on her, and shutting the curtains.


"Enter Musicians.


"Nur. Put up, put up, this is a woeful case. "1. Ay, by my troth, mistress, is it; it had need be mended.

"Enter Serving Man.

"Ser. Alack, alack, what shall I do! come, fidlers, play me some merry dump.

"1. Ah, sir; this is no time to play.

"Ser. You will not then?

"1. No, marry, will we.

"Ser. Then will I give it you, and soundly too.

"1. What will you give us?

"Ser. The fidler, I'll re you, I'll fa you, I'll sol you.

"1. If you re us and fa us, we will note you.

"Ser. I will put up my iron dagger, and beat you with my wooden wit. Come on, Simon Found-pot, I'll pose you.

"1. Let's hear.

"Ser. When griping grief the heart doth wound, "And doleful dumps the mind oppress, "Then musick with her silver sound,

Why silver sound? Why silver sound?

"1. I think because musick hath a sweet sound.
"Ser. Pretty! what say you, Matthew Minikin?
"2. I think because musicians sound for silver.
"Ser. Pretty too: come, what say you?
"3. I say nothing.

"Ser. I think so, I'll speak for you because you are the singer. I say silver sound, because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding. Farewell, fidlers, farewell.


"1. Farewell and be hang'd: come, let's go. [Exeunt."


7 ACT V.] The Acts are here properly enough divided, nor did any better distribution than the editors have already made, occur

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