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 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 is 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. Enter Capulet.

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

Nurse.
She's dead, deceast, 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:
&plquo;Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
&plquo;Upon the sweetest flower of the field.
Accursed time! unfortunate old man! 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 the wedding-day
Hath death lain with thy wife: see, there she lies,
Flower as she was, deflower'd 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.
Accurst, 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 catcht it from my sight.

Nurse.
Oh woe! oh woful, woful, woful day!† ^note
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!

Fri.
Oh peace for shame—
Your daughter lives in peace and happiness,
And it is vain to wish it otherwise.
Heav'n and your self had part in this fair maid,
Now heav'n hath all—

Come stick your rosemary on this fair corpse,
And as the custom of our country is,
In all her best and sumptuous ornaments
Convey her where her ancestors lie tomb'd.

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;
And bridal flow'rs serve for a buried coarse. [Exeunt.

Previous section

Next section