Rom.
If I may trust the flattering truth of ^note sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
My bosom's lord ^note sits lightly in ^note his throne,
And all this day an ^note unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead—
Strange dream, that gives ^note a dead man leave to think!—
And breathed such life with kisses in my lips
That I revived and was an emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy! Enter ^note Balthasar, booted.
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 ^note? that I ask again;
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.

Bal. ^note
Then she is well, and nothing can be ill:
Her body sleeps in Capels' ^note monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives ^note.
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. ^note

Rom.
Is it e'en ^note so? then I defy you, ^note stars! ^note
Thou know'st ^note my lodging: get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.

Bal. ^note
I do beseech you, sir, have patience: ^note
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure.

Rom.
Tush, thou art deceived:
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?

Bal. ^note
No, my good ^note lord.

Rom.
No matter ^note: get thee gone,
And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight. [Exit ^note 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 ^note of desperate men!
I do remember an apothecary,
And hereabouts a' ^note dwells, which ^note late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples; meagre were his looks;
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:

And in his needy shop a tortoise ^note hung,
An alligator stuff'd and other skins
Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly ^note account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd ^note, to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said,
An if ^note a man did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present ^note death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
O, this same thought did but forerun 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. ^note

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 ^note gear
As will disperse itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead,
And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
As violently as hasty powder fired
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 ^note to die? famine is in thy cheeks,

Need and oppression starveth in ^note thy ^note eyes,
Contempt and beggary hangs upon ^note thy back, ^note
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 ^note 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 ^note thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, ^note
Doing more murder ^note in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst ^note not sell:
I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.
Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in ^note in flesh.
Come, cordial and not poison, go with me
To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee. [Exeunt. ^note

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