Nur.
Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet!—fast, I warrant her: ^note—
Why, lamb! why, lady!—fie, you slug-abed!—
Why, love, I say! madam! sweet heart! why, bride!—
What, not a word?—you take your pen'-orths ^note 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 needs must ^note wake her:—Madam! madam! madam! [goes towards the Bed.
Ay, let the county take you in your bed;
He'll fright you up, i'faith.—Will it not be? [undraws the Curtains.
What, drest! and in your cloaths! and down again!
I must needs wake you:—Lady! lady! lady! [shaking her.
Alas, alas!—Help, help! my lady's dead!—

O wel-a-day ^note, that ever I was born!—
Some aqua-vitæ, ho!—My lord!—my lady! Enter Lady Capulet.

L. C.
What noise is here?

Nur.
O lamentable day!

L. C.
What is the matter?

Nur.
Look, † look! O heavy day!

L. C.
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.

Nur.
She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead; alack the day!

L. C.
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 settl'd, and her joints are stiff;
Life and these lips have long been seperated:
Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Nur.
O lamentable day!

L. C.
O woful 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; Musicians, and Servants, after them.

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 ^note, there she lies,
Flower as she was, deflow'red now ^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 leaving ^note, all is death's.

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

L. C.
Accurst, unhappy, wretched, hateful day;
Most miserable hour, that e'er time 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 ^note it from my sight!

Nur.
O woe! o woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day, most woful 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 woful day, o woful day!

Par.
Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spighted, slain;
Most détestable 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 murther murther 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.
Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure ^note lives not
In these confusions.14Q1409 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 advanc'd:
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd,
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 marry'd, that lives marry'd long;
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 ^note best array bear her to church:
For though fond nature ^note bids us all ^note 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 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 Friar Lawrence, Paris, Capulet, and Lady Capulet. Door shut.

1. M.
'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.

Nur.
Honest good-fellows, ah, put up, put up;
For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.

1. M.
Ay, by my ^note troth, the case may be amended. Enter another Servant. ^note

Ser.
Musicians, o, musicians, Heart's ease, heart's ease;

O, an you will have me live, play—heart's ease.

1. M.

Why heart's ease?

Ser.

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

1. M.

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

Ser.

You will not then?

1. M.

No.

Ser.

I will then give it you soundly.

1. M.

What will you give us?

Ser.

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

1. M.

Then will I give you the serving-creature.

Ser.

Then will I lay ^note 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?

1. M.

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

2. M.

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

Ser.

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