Lady. Hold, Take these keies, and fetch more spices Nurse
Nur. They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastrie. Enter old Capulet.
Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir, The second Cocke hath Crow'd, The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three a clocke: Looke to the bakte meates, good Angelica, Spare not for cost
Nur. Go you Cot-queane, go, Get you to bed, faith youle be sicke to morrow For this nights watching
Cap. No not a whit: what? I haue watcht ere now All night for lesse cause, and nere beene sicke
La. I you haue bin a Mouse-hunt in your time, But I will watch you from such watching now.
Exit Lady and Nurse.
Cap. A iealous hood, a iealous hood, Now fellow, what there? Enter three or foure with spits, and logs, and baskets.
Fel. Things for the Cooke sir, but I know not what
Cap. Make hast, make hast, sirrah, fetch drier Logs. Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are
Fel. I haue a head sir, that will find out logs, And neuer trouble Peter for the matter
Cap. Masse and well said, a merrie horson, ha, Thou shalt be loggerhead; good Father, 'tis day.
Play Musicke
The Countie will be here with Musicke straight, For so he said he would, I heare him neere, Nurse, wife, what ho? what Nurse I say? Enter Nurse.
Go waken Iuliet, go and trim her vp, Ile go and chat with Paris: hie, make hast, Make hast, the Bridegroome, he is come already: Make hast I say
Nur. Mistris, what Mistris? Iuliet? Fast I warrant her she. Why Lambe, why Lady? fie you sluggabed, Why Loue I say? Madam, sweet heart: why Bride? What not a word? You take your peniworths now. Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant The Countie Paris hath set vp his rest, That you shall rest but little, God forgiue me: Marrie and Amen: how sound is she a sleepe? I must needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam, I, let the Countie take you in your bed, Heele fright you vp yfaith. Will it not be? What drest, and in your clothes, and downe againe? I must needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady? Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladyes dead, Oh weladay, that euer I was borne, Some Aqua-vitŠ ho, my Lord, my Lady? Mo. What noise is heere? Enter Mother.
Nur. O lamentable day
Mo. What is the matter? Nur. Looke, looke, oh heauie day
Mo. O me, O me, my Child, my onely life: Reuiue, looke vp, or I will die with thee: Helpe, helpe, call helpe. Enter Father.
Fa. For shame bring Iuliet forth, her Lord is come
Nur. Shee's dead: deceast, shee's dead: alacke the day
M. Alacke the day, shee's dead, shee's dead, shee's dead
Fa. Ha? Let me see her: out alas shee's cold, Her blood is setled and her ioynts are stiffe: Life and these lips haue long bene seperated: Death lies on her like an vntimely frost Vpon the swetest flower of all the field
Nur. O Lamentable day! Mo. O wofull time
Fa. Death that hath tane her hence to make me waile, Ties vp my tongue, and will not let me speake. Enter Frier and the Countie.
Fri. Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church? Fa. Ready to go, but neuer to returne. O Sonne, the night before thy wedding day, Hath death laine with thy wife: there she lies, Flower as she was, deflowred by him. Death is my Sonne in law, death is my Heire, My Daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leaue him all life liuing, all is deaths
Pa. Haue I thought long to see this mornings face, And doth it giue me such a sight as this? Mo. Accur'st, vnhappie, wretched hatefull day, Most miserable houre, that ere time saw In lasting labour of his Pilgrimage. But one, poore one, one poore and louing Child, But one thing to reioyce and solace in, And cruell death hath catcht it from my sight
Nur. O wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day, Most lamentable day, most wofull day, That euer, euer, I did yet behold. O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day, Neuer was seene so blacke a day as this: O wofull day, O wofull day
Pa. Beguild, diuorced, wronged, spighted, slaine, Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, By cruell, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne: O loue, O life; not life, but loue in death
Fat. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martir'd, kil'd, Vncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now To murther, murther our solemnitie? O Child, O Child; my soule, and not my Child, Dead art thou, alacke my Child is dead, And with my Child, my ioyes are buried
Fri. Peace ho for shame, confusions: Care liues not In these confusions, heauen and your selfe Had part in this faire Maid, now heauen hath all, And all the better is it for the Maid: Your part in her, you could not keepe from death, But heauen keepes his part in eternall life: The most you sought was her promotion, For 'twas your heauen, she shouldst be aduan'st, And weepe ye now, seeing she is aduan'st Aboue the Cloudes, as high as Heauen it selfe? O in this loue, you loue your Child so ill, That you run mad, seeing that she is well: Shee's not well married, that liues married long, But shee's best married, that dies married yong. Drie vp your teares, and sticke your Rosemarie On this faire Coarse, and as the custome is, And in her best array beare her to Church: For though some Nature bids all vs lament, Yet Natures teares are Reasons merriment
Fa. All things that we ordained Festiuall, Turne from their office to blacke Funerall: Our instruments to melancholy Bells, Our wedding cheare, to a sad buriall Feast: Our solemne Hymnes, to sullen Dyrges change: Our Bridall flowers serue for a buried Coarse: And all things change them to the contrarie
Fri. Sir go you in; and Madam, go with him, And go sir Paris, euery one prepare To follow this faire Coarse vnto her graue: The heauens do lowre vpon you, for some ill: Moue them no more, by crossing their high will.
Exeunt.
Mu. Faith we may put vp our Pipes and be gone
Nur. Honest goodfellowes: Ah put vp, put vp, For well you know, this is a pitifull case
Mu. I by my troth, the case may be amended. Enter Peter.
Pet. Musitions, oh Musitions, Hearts ease, hearts ease, O, and you will haue me liue, play hearts ease
Mu. Why hearts ease; Pet. O Musitions, Because my heart it selfe plaies, my heart is full
Mu. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now
Pet. You will not then? Mu. No
Pet. I will then giue it you soundly
Mu. What will you giue vs? Pet. No money on my faith, but the gleeke. I will giue you the Minstrell
Mu. Then will I giue you the Seruing creature
Peter. Then will I lay the seruing Creatures Dagger on your pate. I will carie no Crochets, Ile Re you, Ile Fa you, do you note me? Mu. And you Re vs, and Fa vs, you Note vs
2.M. Pray you put vp your Dagger, And put out your wit. Then haue at you with my wit
Peter. I will drie-beate you with an yron wit, And put vp my yron Dagger. Answere me like men: When griping griefes the heart doth wound, then Musicke with her siluer sound. Why siluer sound? why Musicke with her siluer sound? what say you Simon Catling? Mu. Mary sir, because siluer hath a sweet sound
Pet. Pratest, what say you Hugh Rebicke? 2.M. I say siluer sound, because Musitions sound for siluer Pet. Pratest to, what say you Iames Sound-Post? 3.Mu. Faith I know not what to say
Pet. O I cry you mercy, you are the Singer. I will say for you; it is Musicke with her siluer sound, Because Musitions haue no gold for sounding: Then Musicke with her siluer sound, with speedy helpe doth lend redresse. Enter.
Mu. What a pestilent knaue is this same? M.2. Hang him Iacke, come weele in here, tarrie for the Mourners, and stay dinner. Enter.
Enter Romeo.
Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleepe, My dreames presage some ioyfull newes at hand: My bosomes L[ord]. sits lightly in his throne: And all this day an vnaccustom'd spirit, Lifts me aboue the ground with cheerefull thoughts. I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead, (Strange dreame that giues a dead man leaue to thinke,) And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, That I reuiu'd and was an Emperour. Ah me, how sweet is loue it selfe possest, When but loues shadowes are so rich in ioy. Enter Romeo's man.
Newes from Verona, how now Balthazer? Dost thou not bring me Letters from the Frier? How doth my Lady? Is my Father well? How doth my Lady Iuliet? that I aske againe, For nothing can be ill, is she be well
Man. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. Her body sleepes in Capels Monument, And her immortall part with Angels liue, I saw her laid low in her kindreds Vault, And presently tooke Poste to tell it you: O pardon me for bringing these ill newes, Since you did leaue it for my office Sir
Rom. Is it euen so? Then I denie you Starres. Thou knowest my lodging, get me inke and paper, And hire Post-Horses, I will hence to night
Man. I do beseech you sir, haue patience: Your lookes are pale and wild, and do import Some misaduenture
Rom. Tush, thou art deceiu'd, Leaue me, and do the thing I bid thee do. Hast thou no Letters to me from the Frier? Man. No my good Lord.
Exit Man.
Rom. No matter: Get thee gone, And hyre those Horses, Ile be with thee straight, Well Iuliet, I will lie with thee to night: Lets see for meanes, O mischiefe thou art swift, To enter in the thoughts of desperate men: I do remember an Appothecarie, And here abouts dwells, which late I noted In tattred weeds, with ouerwhelming browes, Culling of Simples, meager were his lookes, Sharp miserie had worne him to the bones: And in his needie shop a Tortoyrs hung, An Allegater stuft, and other skins Of ill shap'd fishes, and about his shelues, A beggerly account of emptie boxes , Greene earthen pots, Bladders, and mustie seedes, Remnants of packthred, and old cakes of Roses Were thinly scattered, to make vp a shew. Noting this penury, to my selfe I said, An if a man did need a poyson now, Whose sale is present death in Mantua, Here liues a Caitiffe wretch would sell it him. O this same thought did but fore-run my need, And this same needie man must sell it me. As I remember, this should be the house, Being holy day, the beggers shop is shut. What ho? Appothecarie? Enter Appothecarie.