Romeo and Juliet

Scene IV.

Hall in Capulet's House. [Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.]

Lady Capulet. Hold, take these keys and fetch more spices, nurse.

Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.

[Enter Capulet.]Capulet. Come, stir, stir, stir! The second cock hath crow'd.The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock..Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica;Spare not for cost.Nurse. Go, you cot-quean, go,Get you to bed; faith, you'll be sick to-morrowFor this night's watching.

Capulet. No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now

All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.

Lady Capulet. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time;

But I will watch you from such watching now.

[Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse.]

Capulet.A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood! Now, fellow,

[Enter Servants, with spits, logs and baskets.] What's there?

Servant. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what.

Capulet. Make haste, make haste. [Exit First Servant.] Sirrah, fetch drier logs.

Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.

Servant. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs

And never trouble Peter for the matter.

[Exit.]

Capulet. Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha!

Thou shalt be logger-head..Good faith, 'tis day.

The county will be here with music straight,

For so he said he would..I hear him near. [Music within.]

Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say!

[Re-enter Nurse.]

Go, waken Juliet; go and trim her up;

I'll go and chat with Paris; hie, make haste,

Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already.

Make haste, I say.

[Exeunt.]

Scene V.

Juliet's Chamber; Juliet on the bed. [Enter Nurse.]Nurse. Mistress! What, mistress! Juliet! Fast, I warrant her, she..Why, lamb! Why, lady! Fie, you slug-abed!Why, love, I say! Madam! Sweetheart! 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 restThat you shall rest but little..God forgive me!Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep!I needs must 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, dress'd! And in your clothes! 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-vitae, ho! my lord! my lady![Enter Lady Capulet.]

Lady Capulet. What noise is here?

Nurse. O lamentable day!

Lady Capulet.What is the matter?

Nurse. Look, look! O heavy day!

Lady Capulet. O me, O me! My child, my only life!

Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!

Help, help! Call help.

[Enter Capulet.]

Capulet. For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come.

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

Lady Capulet. Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead!

Capulet. 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.Death lies on her like an untimely frostUpon the sweetest flower of all the field.Accursed time! unfortunate old man!

Nurse. O lamentable day!

Lady Capulet.O woful time!

Capulet. 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, with Musicians.]

Friar. Come, is the bride ready to go to church?

Capulet. Ready to go, but never to return..O son, the night before thy wedding dayHath death lain with thy bride..there she lies,Flower as she was, deflowered 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, living, all is death's.

Paris. Have I thought long to see this morning's face,

And doth it give me such a sight as this?

Lady Capulet. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!Most miserable hour that e'er time sawIn 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 it from my sight!Nurse. O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!Most lamentable day, most woeful dayThat ever, ever, I did yet behold!O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!Never was seen so black a day as this.O woeful day! O woeful day!Paris. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd.By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!O love! O life! not life, but love in death!Capulet. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou nowTo murder, murder 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!Friar. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives notIn these confusions. Heaven and yourselfHad 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 should be advanc'd.And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'dAbove the clouds, as high as heaven itself?O, in this love, you love your child so illThat you run mad, seeing that she is well:She's not well married that lives married long.But she's best married that dies married young.Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemaryOn this fair corse; and, as the custom is,In all her best array bear her to church;For though fond nature bids us all lament,Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.Capulet. All things that we ordained festivalTurn from their office to black funeral.Our instruments to melancholy bells;Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast;Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,And all things change them to the contrary.Friar. Sir, go you in, and, madam, go with him.And go, Sir Paris; every one prepareTo follow this fair corse unto her grave.The heavens do lower upon you for some ill;Move them no more by crossing their high will.[Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar.]

First Musician. Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone.

Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up;

For well you know this is a pitiful case.

[Exit.]

First Musician. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.

[Enter Peter.]

Peter. Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease,' 'Heart's ease'.

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

First Musician. Why 'Heart's ease'?

Peter. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My heart is full of woe'.

O, play me some merry dump to comfort me.

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

Peter. You will not then?

First Musician. No.

Peter. I will then give it you soundly.

First Musician. What will you give us?

Peter. No money, on my faith; but the gleek.

I will give you the minstrel.

First Musician. Then will I give you the serving-creature.

Peter. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger onyour pate. I will carry no crotchets. I'll re you,I'll fa you. do you note me?

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

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

Peter. Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat youwith an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger..Answerme like men:'When griping grief the heart doth wound,And doleful dumps the mind oppress,Then music with her silver sound'.why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silversound'? What say you, Simon Catling?

Musician. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.

Peter. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?

Second Musician. I say 'silver sound' because musicians sound for silver.

Peter. Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost?

Third Musician. Faith, I know not what to say.

Peter. O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer. I will say

for you. It is 'music with her silver sound'

because musicians have no gold for sounding..

'Then music with her silver sound

With speedy help doth lend redress.'

[Exit.]

First Musician. What a pestilent knave is this same!

Second Musician. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.

[Exeunt.]

ACT V.

Scene I.

Mantua. A Street. [Enter Romeo.]Romeo. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep,My dreams presage some joyful news at hand;My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;And all this day an unaccustom'd spiritLifts me above the ground with cheerful 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 itself possess'd.When but love's shadows are so rich in joy![Enter Balthasar.]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? that I ask again;For nothing can be ill if she be well.Balthasar. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.Her body sleeps in Capel's monument,And her immortal part with angels lives.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.Romeo. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!Thou know'st my lodging. Get me ink and paperAnd hire post-horses. I will hence to-night.Balthasar. I do beseech you, sir, have patience.Your looks are pale and wild,And do import some misadventure.Romeo. Tush, thou art deceiv'd.Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?

Balthasar. No, my good lord.

Romeo. No matter. get thee gone,And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.[Exit Balthasar.]Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.Let's see for means; O mischief, thou art swiftTo enter in the thoughts of desperate men!I do remember an Apothecary.And hereabouts he dwells, which late I notedIn 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 hung,An alligator stuffd, and other skinsOf ill-shaped 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 scatter'd, to make up a show.Noting this penury, to myself I said,An if a man did need a poison now,Whose sale is present 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.]

Apothecary. Who calls so loud?

Romeo. Come hither, man..I see that thou art poor;Hold, there is forty ducats. let me haveA dram of poison; such soon-speeding gearAs will disperse itself through all the veinsThat the life-weary taker mall fall dead;And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breathAs violently as hasty powder fir'dDoth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Apothecary. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law

Is death to any he that utters them.

Romeo. Art thou so bare and full of wretchednessAnd fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,Contempt and beggary hangs upon 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.

Apothecary. My poverty, but not my will consents.

Romeo. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.

Apothecary. Put this in any liquid thing you will,And drink it off; and, if you had the strengthOf twenty men, it would despatch you straight.Romeo. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls,Doing more murders in this loathsome worldThan these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.Farewell. Buy food and get thyself in flesh..Come, cordial and not poison, go with meTo Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee.[Exeunt.]

Scene II.

Friar Lawrence's Cell. [Enter Friar John.]

Friar John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!

[Enter Friar Lawrence.]Friar Lawrence. This same should be the voice of Friar John.Welcome from Mantua. what says Romeo?Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.Friar John. Going to find a barefoot brother out,One of our order, to associate me,Here in this city visiting the sick,And finding him, the searchers of the town,Suspecting that we both were in a houseWhere the infectious pestilence did reign,Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.

Friar Lawrence. Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?

Friar John. I could not send it, here it is again.Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,So fearful were they of infection.Friar Lawrence. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,The letter was not nice, but full of chargeOf dear import; and the neglecting itMay do much danger. Friar John, go hence;Get me an iron crow and bring it straightUnto my cell.

Friar John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.

[Exit.]Friar Lawrence. Now must I to the monument alone;Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake.She will beshrew me much that RomeoHath had no notice of these accidents;But I will write again to Mantua,And keep her at my cell till Romeo come.Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb![Exit.]

Scene III.

A churchyard; in it a Monument belonging to the Capulets. [Enter Paris, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch.]Paris. Give me thy torch, boy. Hence, and stand aloof.Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.Under yond yew tree lay thee all along,Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread.Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves.But thou shalt hear it. Whistle then to me,As signal that thou hear'st something approach.Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.

Page. [Aside.] I am almost afraid to stand alone

Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.

[Retires.]Paris. Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew.O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones!Which with sweet water nightly I will dew;Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans.The obsequies that I for thee will keep,Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. [The Page whistles.]The boy gives warning something doth approach.What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,To cross my obsequies and true love's rite?What, with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile.[Retires.][Enter Romeo and Balthasar with a torch, mattock, &c.]Romeo. Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron.Hold, take this letter; early in the morningSee thou deliver it to my lord and father.Give me the light; upon thy life I charge thee,Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloofAnd do not interrupt me in my course.Why I descend into this bed of deathIs partly to behold my lady's face,But chiefly to take thence from her dead fingerA precious ring, a ring that I must useIn dear employment: therefore hence, be gone..But if thou, jealous, dost return to pryIn what I further shall intend to do,By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs.The time and my intents are savage-wild;More fierce and more inexorable farThan empty tigers or the roaring sea.

Balthasar. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

Romeo. So shalt thou show me friendship..Take thou that.

Live, and be prosperous. and farewell, good fellow.

Balthasar. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout.

His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.

[Retires.]Romeo. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,[Breaking open the door of the monument.]And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!Paris. This is that banish'd haughty MontagueThat murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief,It is supposed, the fair creature died.And here is come to do some villanous shameTo the dead bodies. I will apprehend him..[Advances.]Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague!Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death?Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee;Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.Romeo. I must indeed; and therefore came I hither..Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;Fly hence and leave me..think upon these gone;Let them affright thee..I beseech thee, youth,Put not another sin upon my headBy urging me to fury. O, be gone!By heaven, I love thee better than myself;For I come hither arm'd against myself.Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say,A madman's mercy bid thee run away.

Paris. I do defy thy conjurations,

And apprehend thee for a felon here.

Romeo. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!

[They fight.]

Page. O lord, they fight! I will go call the Watch.

[Exit.]

Paris. O, I am slain! [Falls.] If thou be merciful,

Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies.]

Romeo. In faith, I will..Let me peruse this face..Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris!What said my man, when my betossed soulDid not attend him as we rode? I thinkHe told me Paris should have married Juliet.Said he not so? or did I dream it so?Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,To think it was so? O, give me thy hand,One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave;A grave? O, no, a lanthorn, slaught'red youth,For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makesThis vault a feasting presence full of light.Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.[Laying Paris in the monument.]How oft when men are at the point of deathHave they been merry! which their keepers callA lightning before death. O, how may ICall this a lightning? O my love! my wife!Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yetIs crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,And death's pale flag is not advanced there..Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?O, what more favour can I do to theeThan with that hand that cut thy youth in twainTo sunder his that was thine enemy?Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet,Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believeThat unsubstantial death is amorous;And that the lean abhorred monster keepsThee here in dark to be his paramour?For fear of that I still will stay with thee,And never from this palace of dim nightDepart again: here, here will I remainWith worms that are thy chambermaids. O, hereWill I set up my everlasting rest;And shake the yoke of inauspicious starsFrom this world-wearied flesh..Eyes, look your last!Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O youThe doors of breath, seal with a righteous kissA dateless bargain to engrossing death!Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!Thou desperate pilot, now at once run onThe dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!Here's to my love! [Drinks.]O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick..Thus with a kiss I die.[Dies.][Enter, at the other end of the Churchyard, Friar Lawrence, with a lantern, crow, and spade.]

Friar. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night

Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there?

Balthasar. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

Friar. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,What torch is yond that vainly lends his lightTo grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,It burneth in the Capels' monument.

Balthasar. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,

One that you love.

Friar. Who is it?

Balthasar. Romeo.

Friar. How long hath he been there?

Balthasar. Full half an hour.

Friar. Go with me to the vault.

Balthasar. I dare not, sir;My master knows not but I am gone hence;And fearfully did menace me with deathIf I did stay to look on his intents.

Friar. Stay then; I'll go alone..fear comes upon me;

O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.

Balthasar. As I did sleep under this yew tree here,I dreamt my master and another fought,And that my master slew him.Friar. Romeo! [Advances.]Alack, alack! what blood is this which stainsThe stony entrance of this sepulchre?What mean these masterless and gory swordsTo lie discolour'd by this place of peace?[Enters the monument.]Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too?And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hourIs guilty of this lamentable chance!The lady stirs.[Juliet wakes and stirs.]Juliet. O comfortable friar! where is my lord?I do remember well where I should be,And there I am..where is my Romeo?[Noise within.]Friar. I hear some noise..Lady, come from that nestOf death, contagion, and unnatural sleep.A greater power than we can contradictHath thwarted our intents..come, come away!Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;And Paris too..come, I'll dispose of theeAmong a sisterhood of holy nuns.Stay not to question, for the watch is coming.Come, go, good Juliet [noise within]. I dare no longer stay.Juliet. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away..[Exit Friar Lawrence.]What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand?Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end..O churl! drink all, and left no friendly dropTo help me after? I will kiss thy lips;Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,To make me die with a restorative.[Kisses him.]Thy lips are warm!

First Watch. [Within.] Lead, boy..which way?

Juliet. Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief..O happy dagger!

[Snatching Romeo's dagger.]

This is thy sheath [stabs herself] there rest, and let me die.

[Falls on Romeo's body and dies.][Enter Watch, with the Page of Paris. ]

Page. This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.

Watch.The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard.Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach.Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain.And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead,Who here hath lain this two days buried..Go, tell the prince; run to the Capulets.Raise up the Montagues, some others search..[Exeunt others of the Watch.]We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;But the true ground of all these piteous woesWe cannot without circumstance descry.[Re-enter some of the Watch with Balthasar.]

Watch. Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard.

First Watch. Hold him in safety till the prince come hither.