Friar.
On Thursday, Sir! the time is very short.

Par.
My father Capulet will have it so,
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.

Fri.
You say, you do not know the lady's mind:
Uneven in this course, I like it not.

Par.
Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love,
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, Sir, her father counts it dangerous,
That she should give her sorrow so much sway;
And, in his wisdom, hastes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society.
Now do you know the reason of this haste?

Fri.
I would, I knew not why it should be slow'd. [Aside.
Look, Sir, here comes the lady tow'rds my cell. Enter Juliet.

Par.
Welcome, my love, my lady and my wife!

Jul.
That may be, Sir, when I may be a wife.

Par.
That may be, must be, Love, on Thurdsay next.

Jul.
What must be, shall be.

Fri.
That's a certain text.

Par.
Come you to make confession to this father?

Jul.
To answer That, were to confess to you.

Par.
Do not deny to him, that you love me.

Jul.
I will confess to you, that I love him.

Par.
So will ye, I am sure that you love me.

Jul.
If I do so, it will be of more price
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

Par.
Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears.

Jul.
The tears have got small victory by that:
For it was bad enough before their spight.

Par.
Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.

Jul.
That is no slander, Sir, which is but truth,
And what I speak, I speak it to my face.

Par.
Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.

Jul.
It may be so, for it is not mine own.
Are you at leisure, holy father, now,
Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

Fri.
My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
My lord, I must intreat the time alone.

Par.
God shield, I should disturb devotion:
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you:
'Till then, adieu! and keep this holy kiss. [Exit Paris.

Jul.
Go, shut the door, and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help.

Fri.
O Juliet, I already know thy grief,
It strains me past the Compass of my Wits.
I hear, you must, and nothing, may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this Count.

Jul.
Tell me not, Friar, that thou hear'st of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.

If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with this knife I'll help it presently.
God join'd my heart and Romeo's; thou, our hands;
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both:
Therefore out of thy long-experienc'd time,
Give me some present counsel; or, behold,
'Twixt my extreams and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire; arbitrating that,
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring:
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.

Fri.
Hold, daughter, I do 'spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution,
As That is desp'rate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry County Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thy self,
Then it is likely, thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That cop'st with death himself, to 'scape from it:
And if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.

Jul.
O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower:
^{5 note}


Or chain me to some steepy mountain's top,
Where roaring bears and savage lions roam;
Or shut me nightly in a charnel house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead mens' ratling bones,
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless skulls;
Or bid me go into a new-made Grave,

And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
(Things, that to hear them nam'd, have made me tremble;)
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.

Fri.
Hold, then, go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris; Wednesday is to morrow;
To morrow Night, look, that thou lye alone.
(Let not thy Nurse lye with thee in thy chamber:)
Take thou this vial, being then in Bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
When presently through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsie humour, which shall seize
Each vital spirit; for no Pulse shall keep
His nat'ral progress, but surcease to beat.
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall,
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
Each Part, depriv'd of supple Government,
Shall stiff, and stark, and cold appear like Death:
And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,
And then awake, as from a pleasant sleep.
Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then, as the manner of our Country is,
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier,
Be borne to burial in thy kindred's Grave:
Thou shalt be borne to that same antient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lye.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
And hither shall he come; and he and I
Will watch thy Waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua;
And This shall free thee from this present Shame,

If no unconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.

Jul.
Give me, oh give me, tell me not of fear. [Taking the vial.

Fri.
Hold, get you gone, be strong and prosperous
In this Resolve; I'll send a Friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.

Jul.
Love, give me strength, and strength shall help afford.
Farewel, dear father!— [Exeunt. SCENE II. Changes to Capulet's House. Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and two or three Servants.

Cap.
So many Guests invite, as here are writ;
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.

Ser.

You shall have none ill, Sir, for I'll try if they can lick their fingers.

Cap.

How canst thou try them so?

Ser.

Marry, Sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his fingers, goes not with me.

Cap.
Go, be gone.
We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time:
What, is my daughter gone to Friar Lawrence?

Nurse.
Ay, forsooth.

Cap.
Well, he may chance to do some good on her:
A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. Enter Juliet.

Nurse.
See, where she comes from Shrift with merry Look.

Cap.
How now, my head-strong? where have you been gadding?

Jul.
Where I have learnt me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition
To You and your Behests; and am enjoin'd
By holy Lawrence to fall prostrate here,
And beg your pardon: Pardon, I beseech you!
Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.

Cap.
Send for the County, go tell him of this,
I'll have this knot knit up to morrow morning.

Jul.
I met the youthful lord at Lawrence' cell,
And gave him what becoming love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of Modesty.

Cap.
Why, I am glad on't, this is well, stand up;
This is as't should be; let me see the County:
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.
Now, afore God, this reverend holy Friar,
^{6 note}

Jul.
Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to morrow?

La. Cap.
No, not 'till Thursday, there is time enough.

Cap.
Go, nurse, go with her; we'll to Church to morrow. [Exeunt Juliet and Nurse.

La. Cap.
We shall be short in our provision;
'Tis now near night.

Cap.
Tush, I will stir about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her,
I'll not to bed to night, let me alone:
I'll play the housewife for this once.—What, ho!
They are all forth; well I will walk my self
To County Paris, to prepare him up

Against to morrow. My heart's wondrous light,
Since this same way-ward girl is so reclaim'd. [Exeunt Capulet and lady Capulet. SCENE III. Changes to Juliet's Chamber. Enter Juliet and Nurse.

Jul.
Ay, those attires are best; but, gentle nurse,
I pray thee, leave me to myself to night:
For I have need of many Orisons
To move the heav'ns to smile upon my State,
Which, well thou know'st, is cross, and full of Sin. Enter lady Capulet.

La. Cap.
What, are you busie, do you need my help?

Jul.
No, Madam, we have cull'd such necessaries
As are behoveful for our state to morrow:
So please you, let me now be left alone,
And let the nurse this night sit up with you:
For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,
In this so sudden business.

La. Cap.
Good night,
Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need. [Exeunt.

&plquo;Jul.
&plquo;Farewel—God knows, when we shall meet again!
&plquo;I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
&plquo;That almost freezes up the heat of life.
&plquo;I'll call them back again to comfort me.
&plquo;Nurse—what should she do here?
&plquo;My dismal scene I needs must act alone:
&plquo;Come, vial—What if this mixture do not work at all?
&plquo;Shall I of force be marry'd to the Count?
&plquo;No, no, this shall forbid it; lye thou there— [Pointing to a dagger.

&plquo;What if it be a poison, which the Friar
&plquo;Subtly hath ministred, to have me dead,
&plquo;Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
&plquo;Because he married me before to Romeo?
&plquo;I fear, it is; and yet, methinks, it should not,
&plquo;For he hath still been tried a holy man.—
&plquo;How, if, when I am laid into the tomb,
&plquo;I wake before the time that Romeo
&plquo;Comes to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
&plquo;Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,
&plquo;To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
&plquo;And there be strangled ere my Romeo comes?
&plquo;Or, if I live, is it not very like,
&plquo;The horrible conceit of death and night,
&plquo;Together with the terror of the place,
&plquo;(As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
&plquo;Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
&plquo;Of all my buried Ancestors are packt;
&plquo;Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
&plquo;Lies festring in his shroud; where, as they say,
&plquo;At some hours in the night spirits resort—)
&plquo;Alas, alas! is it not like, that I
&plquo;So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
&plquo;And shrieks, like mandrakes torn out of the earth,
&plquo;That living mortals, hearing them, run mad.—
&plquo;Or, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
&plquo;(Invironed with all these hideous fears,)
&plquo;And madly play with my fore-fathers' joints,
&plquo;And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
&plquo;And in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
&plquo;As with a club, dash out my desp'rate brains?
&plquo;O look! methinks, I see my cousin's ghost
&plquo;Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his Body
&plquo;Upon a Rapier's Point.—Stay, Tybalt, stay!
&plquo;Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee. [She throws herself on the bed.

SCENE IV. Changes to Capulet's Hall. Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.

La. Cap.
Hold, take these keys and fetch more spices, nurse.

Nurse.
They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. Enter Capulet.

Cap.
Come, stir, stir, stir, the second cock hath crow'd,
The curphew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:
Look to the bak'd Meats, good Angelica.
Spare not for cost.

Nurse.
Go, go, you cot-quean, go;
Get you to bed; faith, you'll be sick 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 sick.

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-hood—
Now, 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 haste, make haste; Sirrah, 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 horson, ha!

Thou shalt be logger-head.—good faith, 'tis day. [Play musick.
The County will be here with musick straight,
For so, he said, he would. I hear him near.
Nurse,—wife,—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, the Bride-groom he is come already;
Make haste, I say. [Exeunt Capulet and Nurse, severally. SCENE V. Changes to Juliet's Chamber, Juliet on a bed. Re-enter Nurse.

Nurse.
Mistress,—what, mistress! Juliet—Fast, I warrant her,
Why, lamb—why, lady—Fie, you slug-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 Rest,
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' faith. 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's 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. Enter Capulet.

Cap.
For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come.

Nurse.
She's dead, deceas'd, 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 lies on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flow'r of all the field.
Accursed time! unfortunate old man!

Nurse.
O lamentable day!

La. Cap.
O woful Time!

Cap.
Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,
Tyes up my Tongue, and will not let me speak. 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 thy wedding-day
Hath Death lain with thy wife: see, there she lies,
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 sight as this!

La. Cap.
Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!
Most 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 solace in,
And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight.

Nurse.
^{7 note}O woe! oh woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day! most woful day!
That ever, ever, I did yet behold.
Oh day! oh day! oh day! oh hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:
Oh woful day, oh woful day!

Par.
Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spighted, slain,
Most detestable Death, by Thee beguil'd,
By cruel, cruel Thee quite over-thrown:—
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 murther, murther 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 Heav'n hath All;
And All the better is it for the Maid.
Your Part in her you could not keep from Death;
But Heav'n keeps his Part in eternal Life.
The most, you sought, was her Promotion;
For 'twas your Heav'n, she should be advanc'd:
And weep you now, seeing she is advanc'd,
Above the Clouds, as high as Heav'n himself?

Oh, 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 dyes married young.
Dry up your Tears, and stick your Rosemary
On this fair Coarse; and, as the Custom is,
And in her best Array, bear her to Church.
For tho' some 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 Chear to a sad Funeral Feast;
Our solemn Hymns to sullen Dirges change,
Our bridal Flow'rs serve for a buried Coarse;
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 Coarse unto her Grave.
The Heav'ns do lowr upon you, for some Ill;
Move them no more, by crossing their high Will. [Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar. SCENE VI. Manent Musicians, and Nurse.

Mus.
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.

Mus.
Ay, by my troth, the case may 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.

Mus.

Why, heart's ease?

Pet.

O musicians, because my heart itself plays, my heart itself is full of woe. O, play me some merry dump, to comfort me!

Mus.

Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now.

Pet.

You will not then?

Mus.

No.

Pet.

I will then give it you soundly.

Mus.

What will you give us?

Pet.

No mony, on my faith, but the gleek: I will give you the Minstrell.

Mus.

Then will I give you the Serving Creature.

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?

Mus.

An you re us, and fa us, you note us.

2 Mus.

Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

Pet.

Then have at you with my wit: I will dry-beat you with an iron Wit, and put up my iron dagger:— answer me like men: