Flower as she was, deflowered by him.
Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir;
My daughter he hath wedded! I will die,
And leave him all; life leaving, all is death's.
Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's
face,

And doth it give me such a sight as this?

La. Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!

Most miserable hour that e'er time saw

In lasting labor of his pilgrimage!

But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,

But one thing to rejoice and solace in,

And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight.
Nurse. O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!
Most lamentable day! most woeful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:

O woeful day, O woeful day!

Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! Most détestable death, by thee beguil'd, By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown!O love! O life!-not life, but love in death!

Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd! Uncomfortable time! why cam'st thou now To murder, murder our solemnity!

O child! O child!-my soul, and not my child!Dead art thou, dead!--alack! my child is dead; And, with my child, my joys are buried!

Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives

not

In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid:
Your part in her you could not keep from death;
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was-her promotion;
For 'twas your heaven, she should be advanced:
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, in this love, you love your child so ill,
That you run mad, seeing that she is well:
She's not well married, that lives married long;
But she's best married, that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,
In all her best array bear her to church:
For though fond nature bids us all lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.
Cap. All things that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding-cheer, to a sad burial feast:
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.

Fri. Sir, go you in,-and, madam, go with him;—
And go, sir Paris;-every one prepare
To follow this fair corse unto her grave:
The heavens do lower upon you for some ill;
Move them no more, by crossing their high will.
[Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIS,

and Friar.

Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, I'll fa you; Do you note me?

1 Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 1 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

Pet. Then have at you with my wit; I will drybeat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger: Answer me like men:

When griping grief the heart doth wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,

Then music, with her silver sound;

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

What say you, Simon Catling?

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

Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?

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-music with her silver sound, because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding :

Then music 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.

SCENE I-Mantua. A Street.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;
And all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful 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 itself possess'd
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!
Enter BALTHAZAR.

News from Verona!-How now, Balthazar ?
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 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.

Dumps were heavy, mournful tunes.

To gleek is to scoff, and a gleekman signified a minstrel

Rom. 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. Rom. No matter: get thee gone, And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight. [Exit BALTHAZAR. Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. Let's see for means:-0, 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; meagre 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 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!

Is death, to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness, And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thine 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:

SCENE II.-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 barefoot brother out,
One of our order to associate me,
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,
Seal'd 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?
• Stuff.

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 these 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.

SCENE III-A Churchyard; in it, a Monument belonging to the Capulets.

Enter PARIS and his Page, bearing Flowers and a Torch.

Par. Give me thy torch, boy: Hence, and stand aloof;

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, untirm, 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.

[Retires. 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 favor at my hands;
That living honor'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, a while. [Retires.

Enter ROMEO and BALTHAZAR, with a Torch, Mattock, &c.

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
A precious ring; a ring that I must use
In dear employment: therefore hence, begone:-
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further shall intend to do,

By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs:
The time and my intents are savage-wild;
More fierce, and more inexorable far,
Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.

Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship.-Take thou that:

Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow.
Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout;
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Retires.
Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open.

[Breaking open the Door of the Monument. And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food! Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague, That murder'd my love's cousin;-with which grief, It is supposed, the fair creature died,

i.e. On a trivial or idle subject.

i.e. A matter of importance.

And here is come to do some villainous shame To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.

[Advances.

Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague;
Can vengeance be pursued further than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.

Rom. I must, indeed; and therefore came I hither.

Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man,
Fly hence, and leave me;-think upon these gone;
Let them affright thee.-I beseech thee, youth,
Heap not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury:-0, be gone!
By heaven, I love thee better than myself:
For I come hither arm'd against myself:
Stay not, be gone;-live, and hereafter say-
A madman's mercy bade thee run away.
Par. I do defy thy conjurations,9
And do attach thee as a felon here.
Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee,
boy.
[They fight.
Page. O lord! they fight, I will go call the
watch.
Exit Page.
Par. O, I am slain! [Falls.]—If thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
[Dies.

Rom. In faith, I will:-Let me peruse this face;
Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris:-
What said my man, when my betossed soul
Did not attend him as we rode? I think,

He told me Paris should have married Juliet:
Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To think it was so ?-0, give me thy hand,
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave,-
A grave? O, no; a lantern, slaughter'd youth,
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence' full of light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.

[Laying PARIS in the Monument.
How oft, when men are at the point of death,
Have they been merry? which their keepers call
A lightning before death;-0, how may I
Call this a lightning?-0, my love! my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.-
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
O, what more favor can I do to thee,

Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,
To sunder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin!-Ah, dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous;
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I will still stay with thee;
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again; here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chambermaids; O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest;

And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh.-Eyes, look your
last!

Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you,
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!-
Come, bitter conduct,2 come, unsavory guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love!-[Drinks.] O, true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

[Dies.

Enter, at the other End of the Churchyard, FRIAR LAURENCE, with a Lantern, Crow, and Spade. Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled at graves!-Who's there?

Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead?

Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,

What torch is yond', that vainly lends his light

I refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do, i... to depart.
Presence-chamber.
2 Conductor.

O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.

Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,

I dreamt my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him.

Fri.
Romeo! [Advances.
Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre ?-
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolor'd by this place of peace?

[Enters the Monument. Romeo! O, pale!-Who else? what, Paris, too? And steep'd in blood?—Ah, what an unkind hour Is guilty of this lamentable chance!--The lady stirs. [JULIET wakes and stirs. Jul. O, comfortable friar! where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, And there I am:-Where is my Romeo?

[Noise within. Fri. I hear some noise.-Lady, come from that

nest

Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;
A greater Power than we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away:
Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;
And Paris too: come, I'll dispose of thee
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
Come, go, good Juliet,-[Noise again.] I dare stay
no longer.
[Exit.

Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.-
What's here! a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:—
O churl! drink all; and leave no friendly drop,
To help me after?-I will kiss thy lips;
Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restorative. [Kisses him.
Thy lips are warm!

1 Watch. [Within.] Lead, boy:-Which way? Jul. Yea, noise?-Then I'll be brief-O happy dagger! [Snatching ROMEO's Dagger. This is thy sheath; [Stabs herself.] there rust, and let me die.

[Falls on ROMEO's Body, and dies. Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS. Page. This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.

1 Watch. The ground is bloody; Search about the churchyard:

Go, some of you, whoe'er you find, attach.

[Exeunt some.

Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;-
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead,
Who here hath lain these two days buried.-
Go, tell the prince,-run to the Capulets,-
Raise up the Montagues, some others search;-
[Exeunt other Watchmen.
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
But the true ground of all these piteous woes
We cannot without circumstance descry.

Enter some of the Watch, with BALTHAZAR. 2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man, we found him in the churchyard.

1 Watch. Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither.

Enter another Watchman, with FRIAR LAURENCE. 3 Watch. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs,

and weeps:

We took this mattock and this spade from him,
As he was coming from this churchyard side.
1 Watch. A great suspicion: Stay the friar too.
Enter the PRINCE and Attendants.
Prince. What misadventure is so early up,
That calls our person from our morning's rest?