Nurse.
Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! fast, I warrant her, she ^note:
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 ^note now;
Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,
The County Paris hath set up his rest
That you shall ^note rest but little. God forgive me, ^note

Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep! ^note
I needs must ^note wake her. Madam, madam, madam!
Ay, let the county take you in your bed;
He'll fright ^note you up, i' faith. Will it not be? [Undraws the curtains. ^note
What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again! ^note
I must needs wake ^note you. Lady! lady! lady!
Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady's dead!
O, well-a-day ^note, that ever I was born!
Some aqua-vitæ, ho! My lord! my lady! Enter Lady Capulet. ^note

La. Cap.
What noise is here?

Nurse.
O lamentable day!

La. Cap.
What is the matter?

Nurse.
Look, look ^note! 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. ^note

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

Nurse.
She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day!

La. Cap.
Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! ^note

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 ^note the field. ^note

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. ^note Enter ^note Friar Laurence and Paris, with Musicians.

Fri. L. ^note
Come, is the bride ready to go to church?

Cap.
Ready to go, but never to return.
O son, the night before thy ^note wedding-day
Hath death lain with thy wife ^note: see ^note, there she lies,
Flower as she was, deflowered ^note by him.
Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir;
My daughter he hath wedded: I will die,
And leave him all; life, living, ^note all is Death's ^note.

Par.
Have I thought long ^note to see this morning's face,
And doth it give me such a sight as this?

La. Cap.
Accurst, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!
Most miserable hour that e'er time ^note saw
In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!
But one, poor one, one poor and ^note loving ^note child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
And cruel death hath catch'd ^note it from my sight!

Nurse.
O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!
Most lamentable day, most woeful day,

That ever, ever, I did yet behold ^note!
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.
Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most detestable death, by thee beguiled,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!
O love! O life! not life, but love in death!

Cap.
Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now
To murder, murder our solemnity?
O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!
Dead art thou! ^note Alack, my child is dead;
And with my child my joys are buried ^note!

Fri. L.
12Q0612Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure ^note lives ^note 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 ^note should be advanced:
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself ^note?
O, 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 ^note young ^note.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse, and, as the custom is,
In all ^note her best array bear her to church:

For though fond ^note nature bids us all ^note lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.

Cap.
All things that we ordained ^note festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial ^note feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.

Fri. L.
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. ^note [Exeunt ^note Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar. ^note

First Mus. ^note
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 ^note case. [Exit. ^note

First Mus. ^note
Ay, by my ^note troth, the case may be amended. ^noteEnter Peter. ^note

Pet. ^note

Musicians, O, musicians, ‘Heart's ease, Heart's ^note ease:’ O, an you ^note will have me live, play ^note ‘Heart's ^note ease. ^note’

First Mus. ^note

Why ‘Heart's ease’?

Pet.

O, musicians, because my heart itself plays ‘My heart is full of woe ^note:’ O, play me some merry dump, to comfort me. ^note

First Mus. ^note

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

Pet.

You will not then?

First Mus. ^note

No.

Pet.

I will then give it you soundly.

First Mus.

What will you give us?

Pet.

No money, on my faith, but the gleek; I will give you the minstrel ^note. ^note

First Mus.

Then will I give you the serving-creature.

Pet.

Then will I lay ^note the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets: ^note I'll re you, I'll fa you; do you note me? ^note

First Mus.

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

Sec. Mus.

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

Pet.

Then have at you with my wit! ^note I will dry-beat you with an iron wit ^note, and put up my iron dagger. ^note Answer me like men:

  ‘When griping grief ^note the heart doth wound
  And doleful dumps the mind oppress, ^note

  Then music with her silver sound’— ^note

why ‘silver sound’? why ‘music with her silver sound’?— What say you, Simon Catling?

First Mus. ^note

Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.

Pet.

Pretty! ^note What say you, Hugh Rebeck ^note?

Sec. Mus.

I say, ‘silver sound,’ because musicians sound for silver.

Pet.

Pretty too! ^note What say you, James Soundpost ^note?

Third 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 ‘music with her silver sound,’ because musicians ^note have no gold ^note for sounding: ^note

  ‘Then music with her silver sound
  With speedy help doth lend redress. ^note’ [Exit. ^note

First Mus. ^note

What a pestilent knave is this same!

Sec. Mus.

Hang him, Jack! ^note Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.

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