SCENE I.
Friar Laurence's cell.
Enter Friar Laurence, and Paris.
Fri.
On thursday, sir? the time is very short.
Par.
My father Capulet will have it so;
6 note
And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste.
Fri.
You say, you do not know the lady's mind;
Uneven is the course, I like it not.
Par.
Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore little have I talk'd of love;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous,
That she do 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'd7 note
.
[Aside.
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.
-- 122 --
Enter Juliet.
Par.
Happily met, 8 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.
Friar.
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 you, 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 a truth;
And what I spake, I spake 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, we 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.
O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me; Past hope, past cure, past help!
-- 123 --
Friar.
Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
It strains me past the compass of my wits:
I hear thou 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 extremes and me this bloody knife
9 noteShall play the umpire, arbitrating that
Which the 1 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.
Friar.
Hold, daughter; I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry county Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself;
Then is it 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,
-- 124 --
From off the battlements of yonder tower2 note;
3 note
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;
Or hide me nightly in a charnel house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless sculls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud,
Things that, to hear them told, 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 phial4 note, being then in bed,
-- 125 --
And this distilled liquor drink thou off:
When, presently, through all thy veins shall run5 note
A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize
Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep
His natural 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 borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt remain full 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)
6 note
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier, 9Q1134
-- 126 --
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; 7 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;
8 noteIf no unconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting it. 9Q1135
Jul.
Give me, O give me! tell me not of fear.
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.
Capulet's house.
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and 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.
-- 127 --
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, begone.—
[Exit Servant.
We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.—
What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence?
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 shrift9 note
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 Laurence 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 Laurence' cell;
And gave him what becomed 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.—
-- 128 --
Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar,
1 note
All our whole city is much bound to him. 9Q1136
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.
2 noteWe shall be short in our provision;
'Tis now near night. 9Q1137
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 is wondrous light,
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.
[Exeunt Capulet, and lady Capulet.
SCENE III.
Juliet's Chamber.
Enter Juliet, and Nurse3 note
.
Jul.
Ay, those attires are best:—But, gentle nurse,
I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night;
-- 129 --
4 noteFor I have need of many orisons 9Q1138
To move the heavens 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;
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 Lady, and Nurse.
Jul.
5 noteFarewel!—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 all6 note?
-- 130 --
7 note
Shall I of force be married to the count?—
No, no;—this shall forbid it:—lie thou there8 note
.—
[Laying down a dagger.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath minister'd 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:
9 noteI will not entertain so bad a thought.—
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come 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 die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
Or, if I live, is it not very like,
The horrible conceit of death and night,
-- 131 --
Together with the terror of the place,—
1 noteAs in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth2 note
,
Lies festring3 note
in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort;—
Alack, alack! 4 noteis it not like, that I,
So early waking,—what with loathsome smells;
And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them5 note
, run mad—
-- 132 --
O! if I wake, shall I not be distraught6 note
,
Environed with all these hideous fears?
And madly play with my forefathers' 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 desperate 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, I come! this do I drink to thee.
[She throws herself on the bed.
SCENE IV.
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,
7 note
The curfeu bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:—
-- 133 --
Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica:
Spare not for cost.
Nurse.
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-hunt8 note
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.
[Exit.
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,
[Musick within.
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;
-- 134 --
I'll go and chat with Paris:—Hie, make haste,
Make haste! the bridegroom he is come already:
Make haste, I say!
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Juliet's Chamber; Juliet on the Bed.
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 9 note
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; 9Q1141
He'll fright you up, i'faith.—Will it not be?
What, drest! and in your clothes! and down again!
-- 135 --
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, look! O heavy day!
La. Cap.
O me, O 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!
La. Cap.
Alack the day! she's dead, she's dead, she's dead.
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 flower 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. 9Q1142
Enter Friar Laurence, and Paris, with Musicians.
Fri.
Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
Cap.
Ready to go, but never to return:—
-- 136 --
1 note
O son, the night before thy wedding day
Hath death lain with thy bride2 note
:—See, there she lies
Flower as she was, deflowered now by him3 note.
4 noteDeath 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 face5 note
,
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.
6 noteO woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!
-- 137 --
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, 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!—alack! my child is dead;
And, with my child, my joys are buried!
Fri.
7 note
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 advanc'd:
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd,
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 marry'd, that lives marry'd long;
-- 138 --
But she's best marry'd, that dies marry'd 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:
8 noteFor though fond nature bids us all lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.
Cap.
All things, 9 note
that we ordained festival, 9Q1144
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding chear, to a sad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;
Our bridal flowers serve for a bury'd 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 lour upon you, for some ill;
Move them no more, by crossing their high will.
[Exeunt Capulet, lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar.
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 Peter1 note.
Pet.
Musicians, O, musicians, Heart's ease, heart's ease;
-- 139 --
O, an you will have me live, play—heart's ease.
Mus.
Why heart's ease?
Pet.
O, musicians, because my heart itself plays—
2 noteMy heart is full of woe9Q1145: 3 note
O, play me some
merry dump, to comfort me.
Mus.
4 note
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 money, on my faith; but the gleek5 note
: 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?
-- 140 --
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:
When gripping grief6 note
the heart doth wound,
7 noteAnd doleful dumps the mind oppress,
Then musick, with her silver sound,
Why silver sound? why, musick with her silver sound?
-- 141 --
What say you, Simon Catling8 note?
1 Mus.
Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.
Pet.
Pretty! What say you, 9 noteHugh 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 you1 note. It is—musick with her silver
sound2 note
, because such fellows as you have no gold for
sounding:—
-- 142 --
Then musick 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.
3 noteACT V.
SCENE I.
MANTUA.
A STREET.
Enter Romeo.
Rom.
4 note
If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
5 note
My bosom's lord sits lightly on his throne;
-- 143 --
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 fares 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 Capulet's monument6 note
,
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.
-- 144 --
Rom.
Is it even so? then I defy you, stars7 note!—
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 thus8 note
:
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure.
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 thoughts of desperate men!
I do remember an apothecary, 9Q1147—
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 stuff'd, and other skins
Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves
9 note
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
-- 145 --
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a shew.
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!
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 through 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 starveth in thine eyes1 note
,
2 note
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, 9Q1148
-- 146 --
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.
Farewel; buy food, and get thyself in flesh.—
Come, cordial, and not poison; go with me
To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee.
[Exeunt.
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 bare-foot brother out,
-- 147 --
3 noteOne of our order, to associate me,
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the town,
Suspecting 9Q1149 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?
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 4 note
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;
-- 148 --
Within these three hours will fair Juliet wake5 note
;
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 church-yard; in it, a monument belonging to the Capulets.
Enter Paris, and his Page with 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 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 flowers. 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 flower, with flowers I strew thy bridal bed:
[Strewing flowers.
Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain
The perfect model of eternity;
-- 149 --
6 note
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,
Accept this latest favour at my hands;
That living honour'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.
Enter Romeo, and Balthasar with a torch, &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 7 note
dear employment: therefore hence, be gone:—
-- 150 --
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-wild8 note;
More fierce, and more inexorable far,
Than empty tygers, or the roaring sea.
Balth.
I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
Rom.
So shalt thou shew me friendship.—Take thou that:
Live, and be prosperous; 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 9 note
maw, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
[Breaking up the monument.
And, in despight, 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 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;
-- 151 --
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 desperate man,
Fly hence and leave me;—think upon these gone;
Let them affright thee.—I beseech thee, youth,
Pull not1 note another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury:—O, 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.
2 note
I do defy thy conjuration,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.
-- 152 --
Rom.
Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy.
[They fight, Paris falls.
Page.
O lord! they fight: I will go call the watch.
Par.
O, I am slain!—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 marry'd 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?—O, 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 3 note
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: 4 note
O, how may I
-- 153 --
Call this a lightning?—O, 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 there5 note
.—
Tybalt, ly'st thou there in thy bloody sheet6 note?
O, what more favour 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,
-- 154 --
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe—
I will believe (come lie thou in my arms)
That unsubstantial death is amorous;9Q1150
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;
7 note
And never from this palace of dim night
-- 155 --
Depart again: here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here
-- 156 --
Will I set up my everlasting rest8 note
;
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! 9Q1151—
-- 157 --
Come, bitter conduct9 note
come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to thy health, wher'erthou tumblest in:
Here's to my love!—[Drinks] O, true apothecary
Thy drugs are quick.—Thus with a kiss I die.
[Dies.
Enter Friar Laurence, with a lanthorn, crow, and spade.
Lau.
Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night
Have my old feet stumbled at graves1 note
?—Who's there?
Enter Balthasar.
Balth.
Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.
Lau.
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. 9Q1153
Balth.
It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master
One that you love.
Lau.
Who is it?
Balth.
Romeo.
Lau.
How long hath he been there?
-- 158 --
Balth.
Full half an hour.
Lau.
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.
Lau.
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,
2 noteI dreamt my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him.
Lau.
Romeo?—
Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre?—
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?—
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.
Jul. [waking.]
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.]
Lau.
I hear some noise.—Lady, come from that nest
-- 159 --
Of death, contagion, 3 noteand 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!
Watch. [within]
Lead, boy:—Which way?
Jul.
Yea, noise?—then I'll be brief.—O happy dagger!
[Snatching Romeo's dagger4 note.
This is thy sheath; [stabs herself.] there rust, and let me die5 note
.
Enter Watch, with the Page of Paris.
Page.
This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.
-- 160 --
Watch.
The ground is bloody; Search about the church-yard;
Go, some of you, whome'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,—
6 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 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 church-yard 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?
-- 161 --
Enter Capulet, and lady Capulet, &c.
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, toward our monument.
Prince.
7 note
What fear is this, which startles in our 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.
O, heaven!—O, wife! look how our daughter bleeds!
This dagger hath mista'en, for, 8 note
lo! his house
-- 162 --
Lies empty on the back of Montague,
And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom.
La. Cap.
O me! this sight of death is as a bell
That warns my old age to a sepulchre.
Enter Montague, and Others.
Prince.
Come, Montague; for thou art early up9 note
,
To see thy son and heir more early down.
Mon.
1 note
Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;
Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath:
What further woe conspires against my age?
Prince.
Look, and thou shalt see.
Mon.
O thou untaught!2 note
what manners is in this,
To press before thy father to a grave?
-- 163 --
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 even to death: Mean time forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.—
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
Lau.
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.
3 noteLau.
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 pin'd.
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,
To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
Being the time the potion's force should cease.
-- 164 --
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 waking,
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 entreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heaven with patience:
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;
And she, too desperate, 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: And, if aught in this
Miscarry'd by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time,
Unto the rigour of severest law.
Prince.
We still have known thee for a 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 threaten'd me with death, going in 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;
And then I ran away to call the watch.
-- 165 --
Prince.
This letter doth make good the friar's words,
Their course of love, the tidings of her death:
And here he writes—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 heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!
And I, for winking at your discords 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 such rate be set,
As that of true and faithful Juliet.
Cap.
As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie;
Poor sacrifices of our enmity!
Prince.
A glooming peace4 note
this morning with it brings;
The sun, for sorrow, will not shew his head:
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
5 note
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
-- 166 --
For never was a story of more woe,
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo6 note
.
[Exeunt omnes.
