Romeo and Juliet

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Original text
Act IV, Scene I
Enter Frier and Countie Paris.

Fri.
On Thursday sir? the time is very short.

Par.
My Father Capulet will haue it so,
And I am nothing slow to slack his hast.

Fri.
You say you do not know the Ladies mind?
Vneuen is the course, I like it not.

Pa.
Immoderately she weepes for Tybalts death,
And therfore haue I little talke of Loue,
For Venus smiles not in a house of teares.
Now sir, her Father counts it dangerous
That she doth giue her sorrow so much sway:
And in his wisedome, hasts our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her teares,
Which too much minded by her selfe alone,
May be put from her by societie.
Now doe you know the reason of this hast?

Fri.
I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.
Looke sir, here comes the Lady towards my Cell.
Enter Iuliet.

Par.
Happily met, my Lady and my wife.

Iul.
That may be sir, when I may be a wife.

Par.
That may be, must be Loue, on Thursday next.

Iul.
What must be shall be.

Fri.
That's a certaine text.

Par.
Come you to make confession to this Father?

Iul.
To answere that, I should confesse to you.

Par.
Do not denie to him, that you Loue me.

Iul.
I will confesse to you that I Loue him.

Par.
So will ye, I am sure that you Loue me.

Iul.
If I do so, it will be of more price,
Benig spoke behind your backe, then to your face.

Par.
Poore soule, thy face is much abus'd with teares.

Iul.
The teares haue got small victorie by that:
For it was bad inough before their spight.

Pa.
Thou wrong'st it more then teares with that report.

Iul.
That is no slaunder sir, which is a truth,
And what I spake, I spake it to thy face.

Par.
Thy face is mine, and thou hast slaundred it.

Iul.
It may be so, for it is not mine owne.
Are you at leisure, Holy Father now,
Or shall I come to you at euening Masse?

Fri.
My leisure serues me pensiue daughter now.
My Lord you must intreat the time alone.

Par.
Godsheild: I should disturbe Deuotion,
Iuliet, on Thursday early will I rowse yee,
Till then adue, and keepe this holy kisse.
Exit Paris.

Iul.
O shut the doore, and when thou hast done so,
Come weepe with me, past hope, past care, past helpe.

Fri.
O Iuliet, I alreadie know thy griefe,
It streames me past the compasse of my wits:
I heare thou must and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this Countie.

Iul.
Tell me not Frier that thou hearest of this,
Vnlesse thou tell me how I may preuent it:
If in thy wisedome, thou canst giue no helpe,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with his knife, Ile helpe it presently.
God ioyn'd my heart, and Romeos, thou our hands,
And ere this hand bythee to Romeo seal'd:
Shall be the Labell to another Deede,
Or my true heart with trecherous reuolt,
Turne to another, this shall slay them both:
Therefore out of thy long expetien'st time,
Giue me some present counsell, or behold
Twixt my extreames and me, this bloody knife
Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that,
Which the commission of thy yeares and art,
Could to no issue of true honour bring:
Be not so long to speak, I long to die,
If what thou speak'st, speake not of remedy.

Fri.
Hold Daughter, I doe spie a kind of hope,
Which craues as desperate an execution,
As that is desperate which we would preuent.
If rather then to marrie Countie Paris
Thou hast the strength of will to stay thy selfe,
Then is it likely thou wilt vndertake
A thinglike death to chide away this shame,
That coap'st with death himselfe, to scape fro it:
And if thou dar'st, Ile giue thee remedie.

Iul.
Oh bid me leape, rather then marrie Paris,
From of the Battlements of any Tower,
Or walke in theeuish waies, or bid me lurke
Where Serpents are: chaine me with roaring Beares
Or hide me nightly in a Charnell house,
Orecouered quite with dead mens ratling bones,
With reckie shankes and yellow chappels sculls:
Or bid me go into a new made graue,
And hide me with a dead man in his graue,
Things that to heare them told, haue made me tremble,
And I will doe it without feare or doubt,
To liue an vnstained wife to my sweet Loue.

Fri.
Hold then: goe home, be merrie, giue consent,
To marrie Paris: wensday is to morrow,
To morrow night looke that thou lie alone,
Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy Chamber:
Take thou this Violl being then in bed,
And this distilling liquor drinke thou off,
When presently through all thy veines shall run,
A cold and drowsie humour: for no pulse
Shall keepe his natiue progresse, but surcease:
No warmth, no breath shall testifie thou liuest,
The Roses in thy lips and cheekes shall fade
To many ashes, the eyes windowes fall
Like death when he shut vp the day of life:
Each part depriu'd of supple gouernment,
Shall stiffe and starke, and cold appeare like death,
And in this borrowed likenesse of shrunke death
Thou shalt continue two and forty houres,
And then awake, as from a pleasant sleepe.
Now when the Bridegroome in the morning comes,
To rowse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then as the manner of our country is,
In thy best Robes vncouer'd on the Beere,
Be borne to buriall in thy kindreds graue:
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie,
In the meane time against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my Letters know our drift,
And hither shall he come, and that very night
Shall Romeo beare thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame,
If no inconstant toy nor womanish feare,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.

Iul.
Giue me, giue me, O tell not me ofcare.

Fri.
Hold get you gone, be strong and prosperous:
In this resolue, Ile send a Frier with speed
To Mantua with my Letters to thy Lord.

Iu.
Loue giue me strength, / And strength shall helpe afford:
Farewell deare father.
Exit
Original text
Act IV, Scene II
Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and
Seruing men, two or three.

Cap.
So many guests inuite as here are writ,
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning Cookes.

Ser.
You shall haue none ill sir, for Ile trie if
they can licke their fingers.

Cap.
How canst thou trie them so?

Ser.
Marrie sir, 'tis an ill Cooke that cannot licke
his owne fingers: therefore he that cannot licke his fingers
goes not with me.

Cap.
Go be gone,
we shall be much vnfurnisht for this time:
what is my Daughter gone to Frier Lawrence?

Nur.
I forsooth.

Cap.
Well he may chance to do some good on her,
A peeuish selfe-wild harlotry it is.
Enter Iuliet.

Nur.
See where she comes from shrift / With merrie looke.

Cap.
How now my headstrong, / Where haue you bin gadding?

Iul.
Where I haue learnt me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition:
To you and your behests, and am enioyn'd
By holy Lawrence, to fall prostrate here,
To beg your pardon: pardon I beseech you,
Henceforward I am euer rul'd by you.

Cap.
Send for the Countie, goe tell him of this,
Ile haue this knot knit vp to morrow morning.

Iul.
I met the youthfull Lord at Lawrence Cell,
And gaue him what becomed Loue I might,
Not stepping ore the bounds of modestie.

Cap.
Why I am glad on't, this is well, stand vp,
This is as't should be, let me see the County:
I marrie go I say, and fetch him hither.
Now afore God, this reueren'd holy Frier,
All our whole Cittie is much bound to him.

Iul.
Nurse will you goe with me into my Closet,
To helpe me sort such needfull ornaments,
As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow?

Mo.
No not till Thursday, there's time inough.

Fa.
Go Nurse, go with her, / Weele to Church to morrow.
Exeunt Iuliet and Nurse.

Mo.
We shall be short in our prouision,
'Tis now neere night.

Fa.
Tush, I will stirre about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife:
Go thou to Iuliet, helpe to decke vp her,
Ile not to bed to night, let me alone:
Ile play the huswife for this once. What ho?
They are all forth, well I will walke my selfe
To Countie Paris, to prepare him vp
Against to morrow, my heart is wondrous light,
Since this same way-ward Gyrle is so reclaim'd.
Exeunt Father and Mother.
Original text
Act IV, Scene III
Enter Iuliet and Nurse.

Iul.
I those attires are best, but gentle Nurse
I pray thee leaue me to my selfe to night:
For I haue need of many Orysons,
To moue the heauens to smile vpon my state,
Which well thou know'st, is crosse and full of sin.
Enter Mother.

Mo.
What are you busie ho? need you my help?

Iul.
No Madam, we haue cul'd such necessaries
As are behoouefull for our state to morrow:
So please you, let me now be left alone;
And let the Nurse this night sit vp with you,
For I am sure, you haue your hands full all,
In this so sudden businesse.

Mo.
Goodnight.
Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.
Exeunt.

Iul.
Farewell: / God knowes when we shall meete againe.
I haue a faint cold feare thrills through my veines,
That almost freezes vp the heate of fire:
Ile call them backe againe to comfort me.
Nurse, what should she do here?
My dismall Sceane, I needs must act alone:
Come Viall,
what if this mixture do not worke at all?
Shall I be married then to morrow morning?
No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there,
What if it be a poyson which the Frier
Subtilly hath ministred to haue me dead,
Least in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I feare it is, and yet me thinkes it should not,
For he hath still beene tried a holy man.
How, if when I am laid into the Tombe,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeeme me? There's a fearefull point:
Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault?
To whose foule mouth no healthsome ayre breaths in,
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes.
Or if I liue, is it not very like,
The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place,
As in a Vaulte, an ancient receptacle,
Where for these many hundred yeeres the bones
Of all my buried Auncestors are packt,
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but greene in earth,
Lies festring in his shrow'd, where as they say,
At some houres in the night, Spirits resort:
Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I
So early waking, what with loathsome smels,
And shrikes like Mandrakes torne out of the earth,
That liuing mortalls hearing them, run mad.
O if I walke, shall I not be distraught,
Inuironed with all these hidious feares,
And madly play with my forefathers ioynts?
And plucke the mangled Tybalt from his shrow'd?
And in this rage, with some great kinsmans bone,
As (with a club) dash out my desperate braines.
O looke, me thinks I see my Cozins Ghost,
Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body
Vpon my Rapiers point: stay Tybalt, stay;
Romeo, Romeo, Romeo,
here's drinke: I drinke to thee.
Original text
Act IV, Scene IV
Enter Lady of the house, and Nurse.

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,
Enter three or foure with spits, and logs, and
baskets.
Now fellow,
what there?

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.
The Countie will be here with Musicke straight,
For so he said he would,
Play Musicke
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.
Original text
Act IV, Scene V


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-vita ho, my Lord, my Lady?
Enter Mother.

Mo.
What noise is heere?

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.

Peter.
Then haue at you with my wit. / 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.
Exit.

Mu.
What a pestilent knaue is this same?

M.2.
Hang him Iacke, come weele in here,
tarrie for the Mourners, and stay dinner.
Exit.
Modern text
Act IV, Scene I
Enter Friar Laurence and County Paris

FRIAR
On Thursday, sir? The time is very short.

PARIS
My father Capulet will have it so,
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.

FRIAR
You say you do not know the lady's mind.
Uneven is the course. I like it not.

PARIS
Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talked of love;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
That she do give her sorrow so much sway,
And in his wisdom hastes our marriage
To stop the inundation of her tears,
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society.
Now do you know the reason of this haste.

FRIAR
(aside)
I would I knew not why it should be slowed. –
Look, sir, here comes the lady toward my cell.
Enter Juliet

PARIS
Happily met, my lady and my wife!

JULIET
That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.

PARIS
That ‘ may be ’ must be, love, on Thursday next.

JULIET
What must be shall be.

FRIAR
That's a certain text.

PARIS
Come you to make confession to this father?

JULIET
To answer that, I should confess to you.

PARIS
Do not deny to him that you love me.

JULIET
I will confess to you that I love him.

PARIS
So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.

JULIET
If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

PARIS
Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.

JULIET
The tears have got small victory by that,
For it was bad enough before their spite.

PARIS
Thou wrongest it more than tears with that report.

JULIET
That is no slander, sir, which is a truth.
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

PARIS
Thy face is mine, and thou hast slandered it.

JULIET
It may be so, for it is not mine own. –
Are you at leisure, holy father, now,
Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

FRIAR
My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. –
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

PARIS
God shield I should disturb devotion! –
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye.
Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss.
Exit Paris

JULIET
O shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me. Past hope, past cure, past help!

FRIAR
Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief.
It strains me past the compass of my wits.
I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this County.

JULIET
Tell me not, Friar, that thou hearest of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.
If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise
And with this knife I'll help it presently.
God joined my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo's sealed,
Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both.
Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,
Give me some present counsel; or, behold,
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak. I long to die
If what thou speakest speak not of remedy.

FRIAR
Hold, daughter. I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry County Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That copest with death himself to 'scape from it.
And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy.

JULIET
O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of any tower,
Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk
Where serpents are. Chain me with roaring bears,
Or hide me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'ercovered quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls.
Or bid me go into a new-made grave
And hide me with a dead man in his tomb –
Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble –
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstained wife to my sweet love.

FRIAR
Hold, then. Go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris. Wednesday is tomorrow.
Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone.
Let not the Nurse lie with thee in thy chamber.
Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
And this distilling liquor drink thou off;
When presently through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour. For no pulse
Shall keep his native progress, but surcease.
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest.
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To wanny ashes, thy eyes' windows fall
Like death when he shuts up the day of life.
Each part, deprived of supple government,
Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death.
And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt continue two-and-forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead.
Then, as the manner of our country is,
In thy best robes uncovered on the bier
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the meantime, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift.
And hither shall he come. And he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame,
If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear
Abate thy valour in the acting it.

JULIET
Give me, give me! O tell not me of fear!

FRIAR
Hold. Get you gone. Be strong and prosperous
In this resolve. I'll send a friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.

JULIET
Love give me strength, and strength shall help afford.
Farewell, dear father!
Exeunt
Modern text
Act IV, Scene II
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and two or three
Servingmen

CAPULET
So many guests invite as here are writ.
Exit a Servingman
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.

SERVINGMAN
You shall have none ill, sir. For I'll try if
they can lick their fingers.

CAPULET
How! Canst thou try them so?

SERVINGMAN
Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick
his own fingers. Therefore he that cannot lick his fingers
goes not with me.

CAPULET
Go, begone.
Exit Servingman
We shall be much unfurnished for this time.
What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence?

NURSE
Ay, forsooth.

CAPULET
Well, he may chance to do some good on her.
A peevish self-willed harlotry it is.
Enter Juliet

NURSE
See where she comes from shrift with merry look.

CAPULET
How now, my headstrong! Where have you been gadding?

JULIET
Where I have learned me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition
To you and your behests, and am enjoined
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here
To beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you!
Henceforward I am ever ruled by you.

CAPULET
Send for the County. Go tell him of this.
I'll have this knot knit up tomorrow morning.

JULIET
I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell
And gave him what becomed love I might,
Not step o'er the bounds of modesty.

CAPULET
Why, I am glad on't. This is well. Stand up.
This is as't should be. Let me see, the County.
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.
Now, afore God, this reverend holy Friar,
All our whole city is much bound to him.

JULIET
Nurse, will you go with me into my closet
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me tomorrow?

LADY CAPULET
No, not till Thursday. There is time enough.

CAPULET
Go, Nurse, go with her. We'll to church tomorrow.
Exeunt Juliet and Nurse

LADY CAPULET
We shall be short in our provision.
'Tis now near night.

CAPULET
Tush, I will stir about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife.
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her.
I'll not to bed tonight. Let me alone.
I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho!
They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself
To County Paris, to prepare up him
Against tomorrow. My heart is wondrous light,
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaimed.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act IV, Scene III
Enter Juliet and Nurse

JULIET
Ay, those attires are best. But, gentle Nurse,
I pray thee leave me to myself tonight.
For I have need of many orisons
To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
Which, well thou knowest, is cross and full of sin.
Enter Lady Capulet

LADY CAPULET
What, are you busy, ho? Need you my help?

JULIET
No, madam. We have culled such necessaries
As are behoveful for our state tomorrow.
So please you, let me now be left alone,
And let the Nurse this night sit up with you.
For I am sure you have your hands full all
In this so sudden business.

LADY CAPULET
Good night.
Go thee to bed, and rest. For thou hast need.
Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse

JULIET
Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins
That almost freezes up the heat of life.
I'll call them back again to comfort me.
Nurse! – What should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone.
Come, vial.
What if this mixture do not work at all?
Shall I be married then tomorrow morning?
No, no! This shall forbid it. Lie thou there.
She lays down a knife
What if it be a poison which the Friar
Subtly hath ministered to have me dead,
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonoured
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I fear it is. And yet methinks it should not,
For he hath still been tried a holy man.
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeem me? There's a fearful point!
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
Or, if I live, is it not very like
The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place –
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle
Where for this many hundred years the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are packed;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort –
Alack, alack, is it not like that I,
So early waking – what with loathsome smells,
And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad –
O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Environed with all these hideous fears,
And madly play with my forefathers' joints,
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud,
And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone
As with a club dash out my desperate brains?
O, look! Methinks I see my cousin's ghost
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
Upon a rapier's point. Stay, Tybalt, stay!
Romeo, Romeo, Romeo.
Here's drink. I drink to thee.
She falls upon her bed within the curtains
Modern text
Act IV, Scene IV
Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse, with herbs

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 crowed.
The curfew bell hath rung. 'Tis three o'clock.
Look to the baked meats, good Angelica.
Spare not for cost.

NURSE
Go, you cot-quean, go.
Get you to bed! Faith, you'll be sick tomorrow
For this night's watching.

CAPULET
No, not a whit. What! I have watched 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!
Enter three or four Servingmen with spits and logs and
baskets
Now, fellow,
What is there?

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

CAPULET
Make haste, make haste.
Exit First Servingman
Sirrah, fetch drier logs.
Call Peter. He will show thee where they are.

SECOND SERVINGMAN
I have a head, sir, that will find out logs
And never trouble Peter for the matter.

CAPULET
Mass! and well said. A merry whoreson, ha!
Thou shalt be loggerhead.
Exit Second Servingman
Good Father! 'tis day.
The County will be here with music straight,
For so he said he would.
Music plays
I hear him near.
Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, Nurse, I say!
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.
Exit Capulet
Modern text
Act IV, Scene V
Nurse goes to curtains

NURSE
Mistress! What, mistress! Juliet! Fast, I warrant her, she.
Why, lamb! Why, lady! Fie, you slug-a-bed!
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 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, dressed, and in your clothes, and down again?
I must needs wake you. Lady! lady! lady!
Alas, alas! Help, help! My lady's dead!
O weraday 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, deceased. 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 frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

NURSE
O lamentable day!

LADY CAPULET
O woeful 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 Laurence and the County Paris

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-day
Hath death lain with thy wife. 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
Accursed, 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 catched it from my sight.

NURSE
O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!
Most lamentable day, most woeful day
That 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
Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most detestable Death, by thee beguiled,
By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown.
O love! O life! – not life, but love in death!

CAPULET
Despised, distressed, hated, martyred, killed!
Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now
To murder, murder our solemnity?
O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!
Dead art thou – alack, my child is dead,
And with my child my joys are buried.

FRIAR
Peace, ho, for shame! Confusion's cure lives not
In these confusions. 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 should be advanced.
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
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 dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On 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 festival
Turn 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 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 all except the Nurse, casting
rosemary on her and shutting the curtains
Enter Musicians

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.

FIDDLER
Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
Exit Nurse
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.’ 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 I will give you the
serving-creature.

PETER
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?

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 you
with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer me
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 silver sound ’?
What say you, Simon Catling?

FIRST 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 Peter

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
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