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Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
Accursed time! unfortunate old man!
Nurse. O lamentable day!
O woful time!
Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me
Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.
Enter Friar LAURENCE 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 thy wedding day
Hath death lain with thy bride :-See, 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 leaving, all is death's.
Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's
And doth it give me such a sight as this?
La. Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful
=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 catch'd it from my sight.
Nurse. O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day! most woful 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 woful day, O woful day!
Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most détestable death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!-
O love! O life!-not life, but love in death!
Uncomfortable time! why cam'st thou now E To murder murder our solemnity?—
ဦးဆ 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!
Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives
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:
Cap. 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,
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'd,
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.
Pet. I will then give it you soundly.
1 Mus. What will you give us?
Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek; I will give you the minstrel.
1 Mus. Then will I 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?
I Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 2 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.
Pet. Then have at you with my wit; I will drybeat 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?
1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet
Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
2 Mus. I say silver sound, because musicians
sound for silver.
Pet. Pretty too! What say you, James Sound-
3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say.
Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer: I will say for you. It is music with her silver sound, because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding:
Then music, with her silver sound, With speedy help doth lend redress. [Exit singing. 1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same? 2 Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt.
SCENE I.-Mantua. A Street.
Rom. 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 spirit
Lifts 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
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!
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.
Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
And all things change them to the contrary.
Fri. Sir, go you in,-and, madam, go with him ;- Her body sleeps in Capel's monument,
And go, sir Paris; every one prepare
To follow this fair corse unto her grave:
The heavens do low'r upon you, for some ill;
Move them no more, by crossing their high will.
[Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar.
1 Mus. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be
Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up;
For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. [Exit.
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.
Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!-
Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.
Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus:
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure.
Tush, thou art deceiv'd;
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do:
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?
Bal. No, my good lord.
No matter; get thee gone,
And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
Let's see for means:-O, mischief! thou art swift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
I do remember an apothecary,-
And hereabouts he dwells,-whom late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Calling of simples; meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn bim to the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuff'd, 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 scatter'd, to make up a shew.
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 fore-run 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!
Ap. 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 itself through 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 cannon'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 die? famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes, Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, 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, consents. Rom. I pay 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 despatch you straight. Rom. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds, that thou may'st 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 me
To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee.
SCENE II.-Friar Laurence's Cell. Enter Friar JOHN. John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! Enter Friar LAURENCE.
Lau.This same should be the voice offriar John. Welcome from Mantua: 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,
Suspecting that we both were in a house
Where 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.
Lau. 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 infection.
Lau. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice, but full of charge,
Of dear import; and the neglecting it
May do much danger: Friar John, go bence;
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.
John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [Esit Lau. Now must I to the monument alone; Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake; She will beshrew me much, that Romeo Hath 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! [Eni
SCENE III-A Church-Yard; in it, a Monument belonging to the Capulets.
Enter PARIS, and his Page, bearing flowers, and
Par. Give me thy torch, boy: Hence, and stand
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the church-yard tread,
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of grares,
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure. (Retires Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy br dal bed:
Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain
The perfect model of eternity;
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,
Accept this latest favour at my hands;
That living honour'd thee, and, being dead,
With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb!
(The boy whistles.
The boy gives warning, something doth approach
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
To cross my obsequies, and true love's rites?
What, with a torch!-muffle me, night, a while.
Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR with a torch,
Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenchi
Hold, take this letter; early in the morning
See 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 aloof,
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I descend into this bed of death,
Is, partly, to behold my lady's face:
But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger
A precious ring; a ring, that I must use
In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone :-
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further shall intend to do,
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry church yard with thy limbs
The time and my intents are savage-wild;
More fierce, and more inexorable far,
Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.
Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. Rom. So shalt thou shew me friendship.-Ta thou that:
Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good felk
Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout; His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. (Retires.) Rom. Thou détestable 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! Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague, That murder'd my love's cousin ;--with which grief, It is supposed, the fair creature died,And here is come to do some villanous shame To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.
Par. I do defy thy conjurations, And do attach thee as a felon here.
Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague;
Can vengeance be pursa'd further than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.
Rom. 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,
Heap not another sin upon my head,
By 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 bade thee run away.
(Dies.) Enter, at the other end of the church-yard, Friar LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade. Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft tonight [there? Have my old feet stumbled at graves!-Who's Who is it, that consorts, so late, the dead? (Advances.)
Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows
Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,
What torch is yond', that vainly lends his light
To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,
It burneth in the Capels' monument.
Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's
One that you love.
Who is it?
Par. O, I am slain! (Falls.)-If thou be merciful,
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The 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.
Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee,
Page. Olord! they fight: I will go call the,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
Rom. In faith, I will:-Let me peruse this face;
Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris!-
What said my man, when my betossed soul
Did not attend him as we rode? I think,
He 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 lantern, slaughter'd youth,
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This 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 death,
Have they been merry? which their keepers call
A lightning before death: O, how may I
Call 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 yet
Is 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 thee,
Than with that hand, that cut thy youth in twain,
To sunder his, that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin?-Ah, dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous;
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I will still stay with thee;
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again; here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars [last!
From this world-wearied flesh.-Eyes, look your
Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!—
Fri. How long hath he been there?
Fri. Go with me to the vault.
I dare not, sir: My master knows not but I am gone hence; And fearfully did menace me with death, If I did stay to look on his intents.
Fri. Stay then, I'll go alone :-Fear comes upon much I fear some ill unlucky thing. Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here, I dreamt my master and another fought, And that my master slew him. Fri.
Romeo!-(Advances.) The stony entrance of this sepulchre?Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains What mean these masterless and gory swords To 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 hour Is guilty of this lamentable chance!— The lady stirs.
(Juliet wakes and stirs.) Jul. 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.) Fri. I hear some noise.-Lady, come from that
Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;
A greater Power than we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away:
Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;
And Paris too; come, I'll dispose of thee
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns :
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
Come, go, good Juliet,—(Noise again.) I dare stay
Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.-
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 leave no friendly drop,
To 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!
1 Watch. (Within.) Lead, boy :-Which way? Jul. Yea, noise?-then I'll be brief.-O happy dagger! (Snatching Romeo's dagger.) This is thy sheath; (Stabs herself.) there rust, and
let me die.
We took this mattock and this spade from him,
As he was coming from this churchyard side.
1 Watch. A great suspicion: Stay the friar too.
Enter the Prince and Attendants.
Prince. What misadventure is so early up,
That calls our person from our morning's rest?
Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, and others.
Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek
La. Cap. The people in the street cry-Romeo, Some-Juliet, and some-Paris; and all ran, With open outcry, toward our monument. Prince. What fear is this, which startles in our ears? [slain;
1 Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, Warm and new kill'd.
Prince. Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. [man;
1 Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's With instruments upon them, fit to open These dead men's tombs.
Cap. O, heavens!-O, wife! look how our daugh
This dagger hath mista'en,-for, lo! his house
Is empty on the back of Montague,-
And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom.
La. Cap. O me! this sight of death is as a bell,
That warns my old age to a sepulchre.
Enter MONTAGUE and others.
Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early up, To see thy son and heir more early down.
Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath: What further woe conspires against mine age?
Prince. Look, and thou shalt see.
Mon. O thou untaught! what manners is in this, To press before thy father to a grave? Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city;
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd.
You-to remove that siege of grief from her,-
Betroth'd, and would have married her perforce,
To county Paris:-Then comes she to me;
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some means
To rid her from this second marriage,
Or, in my cell there would she kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
A sleeping potion; which so took effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her
The form of death: meantime I writ to Romes,
That he should hither come as this dire night,
To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
Being the time the potion's force should cease.
But he which bore my letter, friar John,
Was staid by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my letter back: Then all alone,
At the prefixed hour of her waking,
Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo :
But, when I came, (some minute ere the time
Of her awakening,) here untimely lay
The noble Paris, and true Romeo, dead.
She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heaven with patience :
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
But (as it seems,) did violence on herself.
All this I know; and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy: And, if aught in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time,
Unto the rigour of severest law.
Prince. We still have known thee for a boly
Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this
Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death
And then in post he came from Mantua,
To this same place, to this same monument.
This letter he early bid me give his father;
And threaten'd me with death, going in the van
If I departed not, and left him there.
Prince. Give me the letter, I will look on it.— Where is the county's page, that rais'd the watch Sirrah, what made your master in this place?
Page. He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave;
And bid me stand aloof, and so I did :
Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb;
And, by and by, my master drew on him;
And then I ran away to call the watch.
Prince. This letter doth make good the fri
Fri. I will be brief, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale. Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet, And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife: I married them; and their stolen marriage-day Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death
Their course of love, the tidings of her death:
And here he writes-that he did buy a poison
Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.-
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!-
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love
And I, for winking at your discords too,
Have lost a brace of kinsmen :-all are punish'd
Cap. O, brother Montague, give me thy hand
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
Can I demand.
But I can give thee more: For I will raise her statue in pure gold; That, while Verona by that name is known, There shall no figure at such rate be set, As that of true and faithful Juliet.
Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie; Poor sacrifices of our enmity! [brings Prince. A glooming peace this morning with a The sun, for sorrow, will not shew his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things: Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe, Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
SCENE I.-Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle.
FRANCISCO on his post. Enter to him BERNARDO.
Ber. Well, good night.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
Bernardo hath my place. [Exit. Holla! Bernardo !
Ghost of Hamlet's Father.
FORTINBRAS, Prince of Norway.
GERTRUDE, Queen of Denmark, and Mother of
OPHELIA, Daughter of Polonius.
Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Gravediggers,
Sailors, Messengers, and other Attendants.
Not a mouse stirring. And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
What we two nights have seen.
What, is Horatio there?
A piece of him.
Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Mar-
Hor. What, has this thing appear'd again to-
Ber. I have seen nothing.
Mar. Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy;
And will not let belief take hold of him,
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us :
Therefore I have entreated him, along
With us to watch the minutes of this night;'
That, if again this apparition come,
He may approve our eyes, and speak to it.
Hor. Tush! tush! 'twill not appear.
Sit down awhile;
Well, sit we down,
And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
Ber. Last night of all,
Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS.
Fran. I think, I hear them.-Stand, ho! Who When yon same star, that's westward from the pole,
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellas, and myself,
The bell then beating one,-
Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes
Hor. Friends to this ground.
And liegemen to the Dane.
Fran. Give you good night.
Who hath reliev'd you?
Give you good night.
O, farewell, honest soldier :
Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead.
Mar. Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio.
Ber. Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.