Imatges de pàgina

Dead art thoualack my Child is dead,
And with my Child, my Joys are buried.

Fri. Peace ho for shameConfusions ? Care lives not
In these Confusions. Heaven and your self
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 fought was her Promotion,
For 'twas your Heaven that she should be advanc'd ;
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanç'd
Above the Clouds, as high as Heaven it self?
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 dyes married young,
Dry up your Tears, and stick your Rosemary
On this fair Coarse, and as the Custom is,
All in her best Array, bear her to Church :
For tho' fond Nature bids all us 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 melancholly Bells ;
Our wedding Chear, to a sad burial Feast;
Our solemn Hymns, to sullen Dirges change''
Our Bridal Flowers, serve for a buried Coarse;
And all things change them to the contrary,

Fri. Sir, go you in, and Madám, go with him,
And go, Sir Paris, every one prepare
To follow this fair Coarse unto her Grave.
The Heavens do lowre upon you for some ill :
Move them no more, by crossing their high Will. [Exenni,"

Mu. 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.
: Mn. Ay, by my Troth, the Case may be amended,

Enter Peter.
Per. Musicians: Oh Musicians,
Heart's ease, Heart's ease;
Oh, and you will have mę ļiye, play Heart's ease.


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Mu. Why Heart's ease?

Pet. O Musicians,


Heart it self plays, 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 give it you foundly,
M4. What will you give us ?

Pet. No Mony on my Faith, but the Gleeķ.
I will give you the Ministrel.

Mu. Then I will give you the Serving Creature.

Pet. Then will I lay 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?

Mu. And you Re us, and Fa us, you Ņote us.

1 Mu. Pray you put up your Dagger,
And put out your Wit.
Then have at you with my Wit.

Pet. I will dry-beat you with an Iron Wit,
And put up my Iron Dagger,
Answer me like Men :
When griping Gríefs the Heart doth wound
Then Musick with her Silver found
Why Silver found? Why Musick with her Silver found?
What say you, Simon Catling :

Mu. Marry, Sir, because Silver hath a sweet sound.
Pet. Pratest? what say you, {Hugh Rebeck?
2 M4. I say Şilver sound, because Musicians sound for Sil-
Pet. Pratest too? whạt say you, James Sound-Post? (ver.
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 Mufick with her Silver sound,
Because Musicians have no Gold for founding:
Then Mufick with her Silver sound, with speedy help doth
lend redress.

Mu. What a pestilent Knave is this fame?
2 M4. Hang him, Jack, come, we'll in here, tarry for the
Mourners, and stay Dinner.



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SCE N E Mantua.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. I My Dreams presage fome joyful News at hand:

trust the flattering truth of Sleep,

My Bosom's Lord fits lightly in his Throne,
And all this winged unaccustom'd Spirit,
Lifts me above the Ground with chearful Thoughts.
I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead,
(Strange Dream! that gives a dead Man leave to think)
And breath'd such Life with Kisses in my Lips,
That I reviv’d, and was an Emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is Love it self pofseft,
When but Love's Shadows are so rich in Joy.

Enter Romeo's Man,
News from Verona How now Balthazar ?
Dost thou not bring me Letters from the Friar?
How doth my Lady? Is my Father well?
How doth my Lady Juliet? That I ask again,
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.

Man. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.
Her Body sleeps in Capulet's Monument,
And her immortal part with Angels lives :
I saw her laid low in her Kindreds 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.

Rom. Is it even so ?.
Then I deny you Stars.
Thou knowest iny Lodging, get me Ink and Paper,
And hire Post-Horses, I will hence to Night.

Man. I do beseech you, Sir, have patience:
Your Looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some Misadventure.

Rom. Tush, thou art deceiva,
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do:
Hast thou no Letters to me from the Friar?

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Man. No, good my Lord.

Rom. No matter : Get thee gone, And hire those Horses, I'll be with thee straight. [Exit Man, Well Juliet, I will lye with thee to Night; Let's lee for means. O Mischief thou art swift To enter in the Thought of desperate Men: I do remember an Apothecary, And hereabouts he dwells, which late I noted In tatter'd Weeds, with overwhelming Brows, Culling of Simples; Meager were his Looks, Sharp Misery had worn him to the Bones: And in his needy Shop a Tortoise hung, An Alligator stuft, and other Skins Of ill-shap'd Fishes, and about his Shelves A beggarly Account of empty Boxes ; Green earthen Pots, Bladders, and musty Seeds, Remnants of Packthread, and old Cakes of Roses Were thinly scattered, to make up a shew. Noting this Penury, to my self I said, And if a Man did need a Poison now, Whose fale is present Death in Mantua, Here lives a Caitiff Wretch would sell it him. O this fame Thought did but fore-run my Need, , And this fame needy Man must sell it me. As I remember, this should be the House, Being holy-day, the Beggar's Shop is shut. What ho! Apothecary !

Enter Apothecary.
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 Geer,
As will disperse it self thro’ all the Veins,
That the Life-weary-taker may fall Dead,
And that the Trunk may be discharg'd of Breath,
As violently, as hasty Powder fir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal Canon'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 to dye? Famine iş in thy Cheeks,


Need and Oppression starveth in thine Eyes,
Contempt and Beggary hang on thy Back:
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 confents.
Rom. I pray 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 thy Gold, worse Poison to Mens Souls,
Doing more Murder in this loathsom World,
Than these poor Compounds that thou maist not sell:
I fell thee Poison, thou hast fold me none.
Farewel, buy Food, and get thy self in Flesh.
Come Cordial, and not Poison, go with me
To Juliet's Grave, for there must I use thee. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. The Monafiery near Verona.

Enter Friar John to Friar Lawrence,
John. Holy Franciscan Friar ! Brother ! ho !

Law. This same should be the Voice of Friar John
Welcome from Mantna, what says Romeo?
Or if his Mind be writ, give me his Letter.

John. Going to find a bare-foot Brother out,
One of our Order, to associate me,
Here in this City visiting the Sick,
And finding him, the Searchers of the Town,
Suspe&ing that we both were in a House
Where the infectious Pestilence did reign,
Seald up the Doors, and would not let us forth,
So that my speed to Mantua there was staid.

Law. Who bare my Letter then to Romeo?

John. I could not send it; here it is again,
Nor get a Messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of Infe&ion.

Law. Unhappy Fortune! by my Brotherhood,
The Letter was not nice, but full of Charge
of dear Import, and the neglecting it
May do much Dinger.' Friar John, go hence,


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