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,‡ ^note
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 busy? 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 set up with you;
For I am sure you have your hands full all,
In this so sudden business.

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

Jul.
Farewel—Heav'n knows, when we shall meet again!* ^note
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
That almost freezes up the heat of life.
I'll call them back again, to comfort me.
Nurse!—Yet what should they do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone. [Takes out the phial.
Come, phial—What if this mixture do not work, at all?
Shall I of force be married to the count?
No, no, this shall forbid it; lie thou there— [Pointing to a dagger.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath ministerd, to have me dead,
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I fear it is; and yet methinks it should not,
For he hath still been tried a holy man—
How, if when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Comes to redeem me? There's a fearful point!
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
And there be strangled, ere my Romeo comes?
Or, if I live, is it not very like

The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place,
(As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where for these many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where bloody Tibalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night, spirits resort—
Or, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
(Invironed with all these hideous fears)
And madly play with my forefathers' joints,
And pluck the mangled Tibalt from his shroud?
And in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
As with a club, dash out my desp'rate brains?
O look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost
Seeking out Romeo—Stay, Tibalt, stay!
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee. [Drinks. [She throws herself on the Bed.
O, potent draught! thou hast* ^note
Chill'd me to my heart! my head turns round,
My senses fail me—O, Romeo, Romeo— [The Scene shuts on her.

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