Paris.
Friar.
On Thursday, Sir? The time is very short.
Par.
My father Capulet will have it so,
8 note
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
Fri.
You say, you do not know the lady's mind:
Uneven is 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.
-- 93 --
Enter Juliet.
Par.
Welcome, my love, 9 note
my lady and my wife!
Jul.
That may be, Sir, when I may be a wife.
Par.
That may be, must be, Love, on Thursday 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, I should 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 rouze 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.
-- 94 --
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 County.
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
1 noteShall play the umpire; arbitrating that,
Which the 2 notecommission 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 thyself,
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 tow'r;
-- 95 --
3 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' rattling 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 lie alone,
Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber.
Take thou this phial, being then in Bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
When presently through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy 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 liv'st;
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.
-- 96 --
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 ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
And hither shall he come; 4 note
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,
5 noteIf 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 phial.
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.
Serv.
You shall have none ill, Sir, for I'll try if
they can lick their fingers.
-- 97 --
Cap.
How canst thou try them so?
Serv.
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 unfurnished 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,
[She kneels.
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,
All our whole city is much bound to him.
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?
-- 98 --
La. Cap.
No, not 'till Thursday, there is time enough.
Cap.
Go, nurse, go with her. We'll to Church tomorrow.
[Exeunt Juliet and Nurse.
La. Cap.
6 noteWe 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 myself
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;
7 noteFor 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 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 sit up with you;
-- 99 --
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.
Jul.
Farewel—God knows, when we shall meet again!
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! What should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone:
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—
[Laying down a dagger.
—What if it be a poison, which the Friar
Subtly hath ministred, 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 healthsom 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 packt;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies festring in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort.
-- 100 --
Alas, alas! 8 noteis it not like, that I
So early waking, what with loathsom smells,
And shrieks, like mandrake's torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad.
Or, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Invironed with all these hideous fears,
And madly play with my fore fathers' joints,
And pluck the mangled Tybalt 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, that did spit his Body
Upon a Rapier's Point. Stay, Tybalt, stay!
Romeo, here's drink! Romeo, 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,
9 noteThe curfeu bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:
Look to the bak'd Meats, good Angelica.
Spare not for Cost.
-- 101 --
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.
Serv.
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.
Serv.
I have a head, Sir, that will find out logs,
And never trouble Peter for the matter.
Cap.
'Mass, and well said, a merry whoreson, ha!
Thou shalt be logger-head.—Good faith, 'tis day.
The County will be here with musick straight,
[Play musick.
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.
-- 102 --
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—Fy, 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.
-- 103 --
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 woeful Time!
Cap.
Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,
Ties 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,
Flow'r as she was, deflowered 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.
-- 104 --
Nurse.
1 noteO 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 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.
2 note
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.
-- 105 --
The most, you sought, was her Promotion;
For 'twas your Heaven, 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 dies 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.
3 noteFor tho' 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 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; ev'ry one prepare
To follow this fair Coarse unto her Grave.
The Heav'ns do low'r upon you, for some Ill;
Move them no more, by crossing their high Will.
[Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar.
-- 106 --
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, why, play heart's ease.
Mus.
Why, heart's ease?
Pet.
O musicians, because my heart itself plays,
my heart itself is full of woe. 4 noteO, 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 Minstrel.
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.
-- 107 --
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:
When griping grief the heart doth wound,
Then musick with her silver sound—
Why, silver sound! why, musick with her silver sound?
What say you, Simon Catling?
1 Mus.
Marry, Sir, because silver hath a sweet
sound.
Pet.
Pratest! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
2 Mus.
I say, silver sound, because musicians sound
for silver.
Pet.
Pratest too! What say you, Samuel Sound-Board?
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
musicians have no gold for sounding.
Then musick with her silver sound
With speedy help doth lend redress.
[Exit singing.
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.
-- 108 --
5 noteACT V.
SCENE I.
MANTUA.
Enter Romeo.
6 note
If I may trust the flattering Truth of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
-- 109 --
9 noteMy bosom's Lord sits lightly on his throne,
And, all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with chearful 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 possest,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy?
Enter Balthasar.
News from Verona—How now, Balthasar?
Dost thou not bring me letters from the Friar?
How doth my Lady? is my father well?
How doth my Juliet? That I ask again;
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.
Balth.
Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body sleeps in Capulets' 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.
Balth.
Pardon me, Sir, I dare not leave you thus.
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure.
-- 110 --
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?
Balth.
No, my good Lord.
Rom.
No matter. Get thee gone,
And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.
[Exit Balthasar.
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night;
Let's see for means—O mischief! thou art swift
To enter in the thought 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; meager were his looks;
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuft, and other skins
Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves
1 note
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,
-- 111 --
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
Oh, 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 holy-day, the beggar's shop is shut.
—What, ho! apothecary!
Enter Apothecary.
Ap.
Who calls so loud?
Rom.
Come hither, man. I see, that thou art poor.
Hold. There is forty ducats. Let me have
A dram of poison, such soon-speeding geer,
As will disperse itself thro' all the veins,
That the life-weary Taker may fall dead;
And that the Trunk may be discharg'd of breath,
As violently, as hasty powder fir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.
Ap.
Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua's law
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 stare within thine eyes,
Contempt and beggary hang upon thy back,
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 dispatch 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.
I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.—
-- 112 --
Farewel, buy food, and get thee into flesh.
Come, cordial, and not poison; go with me
To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Changes to the Monastery at Verona.
Enter Friar John.
John.
Holy Franciscan Friar! brother! ho!
Enter Friar Lawrence to him.
Law.
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 bare-foot 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 staid.
Law.
Who bore my letter then to Romeo?
John.
I could not send it; here it is again;
Nor get a Messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.
Law.
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.
-- 113 --
Law.
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 coarse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb!
[Exit.
SCENE III.
Changes to a Church-yard; in it, a Monument belonging to the Capulets.
Enter Paris, and his Page, with a light.
Par.
Give me thy torch, boy; hence and stand aloof;
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
Laying thy ear close to the hollow ground,
So shall no foot upon the church-yard tread,
Being loose, unfirm, 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 flow'rs. Do as I bid thee. Go.
Page.
I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the church-yard, yet I will adventure.
[Exit.
Par.
Sweet flow'r! with flow'rs thy bridal bed I strew:
[Strewing flowers.
2 note
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,
-- 114 --
Accept this latest favour at my hand;
That living honour'd thee, and, being dead,
With fun'ral obsequies 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 rite?
What, with a torch? Muffle me, night, a while.
SCENE IV.
Enter Romeo and Balthasar with a light.
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 3 notedear employment. Therefore hence. Be gone:
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
On what I further shall intend to do,
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry church-yard with thy limbs.
The time and my intents are savage, wild,
More fierce and more inexorable far
Than empty tygers, or the roaring sea.
-- 115 --
Balth.
I will be gone, Sir, and not trouble you.
Rom.
So shalt thou shew me Friendship.—Take thou that.
Live and be prosp'rous, and farewel, good fellow.
Balth.
For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout.
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.
[Exit Balth.
Rom.
Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I inforce thy rotten jaws to open,
[Breaking up the Monument.
And in despight I'll cram thee with more food.
Par.
This is that banisht haughty Montague,
That murder'd my love's cousin; with which grief,
It is supposed, the fair Creature dy'd,
And here is come to do some villainous shame,
To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him.
Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague,
Can vengeance be pursu'd 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 desp'rate man;
Fly hence and leave me. Think upon these gone,
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
Pull not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury. Oh be gone!
By heav'n, 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 commiseration,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.
Rom.
Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy.
[They fight, Paris falls.
Page.
Oh Lord, they fight! I will go call the Watch.
Par.
Oh, I am slain; if thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
[Dies.
-- 116 --
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? Oh 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 Lanthorn, slaughter'd Youth;
For here lies Juliet; and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting 4 notePresence 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. 5 note
O, how may I
Call this a Lightning!—Oh my love, my wife!
Death, that hath suckt 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, ly'st thou there in thy bloody sheet?
Oh, what more favour can I do to thee,
Than with that hand, that cut thy youth in twain,
To sunder his, that was thy 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 still will stay with thee;
-- 117 --
6 note
And never from this Palace of dim night
Depart again: Here, here will I remain,
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; oh here
Will I set up my everlasting Rest;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-weary'd flesh. Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, oh you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death.
Come, bitter conduct! come unsav'ry guide!
Thou desp'rate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks my sea-sick, weary, bark.
Here's to my love! Oh, true apothecary!
[Drinks the poison.
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.
[Dies.
-- 118 --
Enter Friar Lawrence with lanthorn, crow, and spade.
Fri.
St. Francis be my speed! How oft to-night
Have my old feet stumbled at graves?—Who's there?
Enter Balthasar.
Balth.
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
To grubs and eyeless sculls? as I discern,
It burneth in the Capulets' Monument.
Balth.
It doth so, holy Sir,—and there's my master,
One that you love.
Fri.
Who is it?
Balth.
Romeo.
Fri.
How long hath he been there?
Balth.
Full half an hour.
Fri.
Go with me to the vault.
Balth.
I dare not, Sir.
My master knows not, but I am gone hence;
And fearfully did menace me with death,
If I did stay to look on his intents.
Fri.
Stay then, I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me;
O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.
Balth.
As I did sleep under this yew tree here,
I dreamt, my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him.
Fri.
Romeo!
Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre?
What mean these masterless and goary swords,
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?
Romeo! oh pale! Who else? what Paris too?
And steep'd in blood? ah, what an unkind hour
-- 119 --
Is guilty of this lamentable chance?
The lady stirs.
Jul. [awaking.]
Oh comfortable Friar, where is my Lord?
I do remember well, where I should be;
And there I am. Where is my Romeo?
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. I dare no longer stay.
[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.
Oh 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.
Thy lips are warm.
Enter Boy and Watch.
Watch.
Lead, boy. Which way?
Jul.
Yea, noise?
Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!
[Finding a dagger.
This is thy sheath, there rust and let me die.
[Kills herself.
Boy.
This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.
Watch.
The ground is bloody. Search about the church-yard;
Go, some of you, whom e'er you find, attach.
-- 120 --
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;
7 note
Raise up the Montagues. Some others; search—
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 Balthasar.
2 Watch.
Here's Romeo's man, we found him in
the church-yard.
1 Watch.
Hold him in safety, 'till the Prince comes
hither.
Enter another Watchman with Friar Lawrence.
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 church-yard side.
1 Watch.
A great suspicion. Stay the Friar too.
SCENE V.
Enter the Prince, and attendants.
Prince.
What a misadventure is so early up,
That calls our person from our morning's Rest?
-- 121 --
Enter Capulet and lady Capulet.
Cap.
What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?
La. Cap.
The people in the street cry, Romeo;
Some, Juliet; and some, Paris; and all run
With open out-cry tow'rd our Monument.
Prince.
8 note
What fear is this, which startles in your ears?
Watch.
Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain,
And Romeo dead, and Juliet, dead before,
Warm and new kill'd.
Prince.
Search, seek, and know, how this foul murder comes.
Watch.
Here is a Friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man,
With instruments upon them, fit to open
These dead men's tombs.
Cap.
Oh, heav'n! oh, wife! look how our daughter bleeds.
This dagger hath mista'en; for, 9 note
lo! the sheath
Lies empty on the back of Montague,
The point mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom.
La. Cap.
Oh me, this sight of death is as a bell,
That warns my old age to a sepulchre.
Enter Montague.
Prince.
Come, Montague, for thou art early up,
To see thy son and heir now early down.
Mon.
Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;
Grief of my son's exile hath stopt her breath.
What further woe conspires against my age?
Prince.
Look, and thou shalt see.
-- 122 --
Mon.
Oh, thou untaught! what manners is in this,
To press before thy father to a Grave?
Prince.
Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
'Till we can clear these ambiguities,
And know their spring, their head, their true descent;
And then will I be General of your woes,
And lead you ev'n to Death. Mean time forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.
—Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
Fri.
I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet most suspected; as the time and place
Doth make against me, of this direful murder;
And here I stand both to impeach and purge
Myself condemned, and myself excus'd.
Prince.
Then say at once what thou dost know in this.
1 noteFri.
I will be brief, for my short date of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet,
And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:
I married them; and their stolen marriage-day
Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death
Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city;
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.
You, to remove that siege of grief from her,
Betroth'd, and would have married her perforce
To County Paris. Then comes she to me,
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some means
To rid her from this second marriage;
Or, in my Cell, there would she kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
A sleeping potion, which so took effect
As I intended; for it wrought on her
The form of death. Mean time I writ to Romeo,
That he should hither come, as this dire night,
-- 123 --
To help to take her from her borrowed Grave,
Being the time the potion's force should cease.
But he which bore my letter, Friar John,
Was staid by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my letter back; then all alone,
At the prefixed hour of her awaking,
Came I to take her from her kindred's Vault;
Meaning to keep her closely at my Cell,
'Till I conveniently could send to Romeo.
But when I came, (some minute ere the time
Of her awaking) here untimely lay
The noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.
She wakes, and I intreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heav'n with patience:
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb,
And she, too desp'rate, would not go with me:
But, as it seems, did violence on herself.
All this I know, and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy; but if aught in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrific'd, some hour before the time,
Unto the rigour of severest law.
Prince.
We still have known thee for an holy man.
Where's Romeo's man? what can he say to this?
Balth.
I brought my master news of Juliet's death,
And then in post he came from Mantua
To this same place, to this same Monument.
This letter he early bid me give his father,
And threatned me with death, going to the Vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.
Prince.
Give me the letter, I will look on it.
Where is the County's page, that rais'd the Watch?
—Sirrah, what made your master in this place?
Page.
He came with flowers to strew his lady's Grave,
And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:
Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb,
And, by and by, my master drew on him;
-- 124 --
And then I ran away to call the Watch.
Prince.
This letter doth make good the Friar's words,
Their course of love, the tidings of her death:
And here he write, that he did buy a poison
Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
That heav'n finds means to kill your joys with love!
And I, for winking at your disputes too,
Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish'd!
Cap.
O brother Montague, give me thy hand,
This is my daughter's jointure; for no more
Can I demand.
Mon.
But I can give thee more,
For I will raise her Statue in pure gold;
That, while Verona by that name is known,
There shall no figure at that rate be set,
As that of true and faithful Juliet.
Cap.
As rich shall Romeo's by his lady lye;
Poor sacrifices of our enmity!
Prince.
A gloomy Peace this morning with it brings,
The Sun for Sorrow will not shew his head;
Go hence to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished.
For never was a story of more woe,
Than this of Juliet, and her Romeo.
[Exeunt omnes.
