Romeo.
If last night's dreams prove true, I soon shall be
Dubb'd a Papa, and have much progeny.
I thought my wife, saluting me with kisses,
Presented three fine boys and two young misses,
And called them mine.

Enter Balthazar.
Ah, what's the news with you?
Come you straight from Verona?

Balthazar.
Sir, I do.

Romeo.
How fare my Spouse and Dad? come, quickly tell.

Balthazar.
Your Dad's but so, so.—

Romeo.
Say, is Juliet well?

Balthazar.
She's well provided for! her mouth and eyes
Are closed for ever.

Romeo.
Sirrah! don't tell lies.

Balthazar.
Upon my soul, she's dead? I hate deriding,
And rode post-haste to bear this tristful tiding.

Romeo.
This is bad news! I soon shall die o'th' vapour:
Go to my chamber; fetch pen, ink and paper.
Saddle my Pony; I'll be off to night.

Balthazar.
My Lord, I fly. (Walks leisurely off.)

Romeo.
Oh! what a luckless wight!
Juliet, I'll sleep with you to night—don't doubt it.
Now I'll bethink me how to set about it.

SONG.—Tune,—Rumpti-edity.
A Rat-Catcher dwells hereabout;
I ne'er shall forget the old sinner:
So lean were his phiz and his snout,
You'd have sworn he ate air for his dinner.
His bones fairly popp'd through his skin;
His eyes were deep sunk in their sockets,
And Rat-tails, long, short, thick and thin,
Hung dangling from each of his pockets.
Sing Ri fol de diddle dol de, &c.
Suspecting the fellow was poor
As a half-starved Church-Mouse, or a poet,
Quoth I, as I passed by his door,
(Faith this is the spot—I well know it.) (looking round)
Quoth I—if a man had an itch
By Arsenick to slip from life's shallows,
Here lives a sly son of a bitch,
Who wou'd sell it in spite of the gallows.
Sing Ri fol de diddle dol de, &c.
I'll call thee rogue, ho! Rat-catcher! what, ho! Enter Rat-catcher.

Rat-catcher.
Who calls?

Romeo.
Come here, thour't devlish poor I know; (Holding up a Dollar.)
There's five and sixpence for thee: now give me
A double dose of Arsenick; let it be

Quite strong enough to kill an Irish giant.

Rat-catcher.
I have it here, but Sir, you may rely on't,
No man in Mantua dares such stuff to utter.

Romeo.
If you refuse, I'll kick you in the gutter:
What, art so bare, yet fearful of the law?
Why, man, it cannot injure thee a straw!
You'd better take the money, Master, will you?

Rat-catcher.
Well, I'll consent, and yet I'm loth to kill you. (Exit, and re-enters with Snuff in a paper.)
This Snuff is mixed with Arsenick,—take a sniff,
But let it be a hearty one,—and if
It do not kill you, never trust me more.

Romeo.
That's a good fellow.—'Tis enough you're sure.

Rat-catcher.
Quite sure? 'tis mixed with Hellebore as well,
And other drugs whose names I can't well tell.

Romeo.
'Twill do.—There lantern-jaws, go, buy thee food. (Giving him the Money.)
And try to get thee into flesh and blood. [Exit Rat-catcher.
Come, deadly Snuff; to Juliet's grave we'll pack;
When once we're there, we'll ne'er again come back. [Exit.

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