O child! O child!—my soul, and not my child! Fri. 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, Your part in her you could not keep from death; Fri. Sir, go you in,—and, madam, go with him; [Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULet, Paris, 1 Instead of this and the following speeches, the first quarto has only couplet: "Let it be so; come, woful sorrow-mates, Let us together taste this bitter fate." The enlarged text is formed upon the poem. 1 Mus. '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 Nurse. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. Enter PETER. Pet. Musicians, O musicians, Heart's ease, heart's ease; O, an you will have me live, play-heart's ease. 1 Mus. Why heart's ease? Pet. O musicians, because my heart itself playsMy heart is full of woe. O, play me some merry dump,2 to comfort me. 2 Mus. Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. Pet. You will not then? Mus. No. 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 dry-beat 1 This is the burden of the first stanza of A Pleasant New Ballad of Two Lovers: "Hey hoe! my heart is full of woe." 2 A dump was formerly the received term for a grave or melancholy strain in music, vocal or instrumental. It also signified a kind of poetical elegy. A merry dump is no doubt a purposed absurdity put into the mouth of master Peter. 3 A pun is here intended. A gleekman, or gligman, is a minstrel. To give the gleek, meant, also, to pass a jest upon a person, to make him appear ridiculous; a gleek being a jest or scoff. you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger.Answer me like men: When griping grief the heart doth wound, Why, silver sound? why, music with her silver sound? 1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. Pet. Pratest! What say you, Hugh Rebeck? 2 Mus. I say-silver sound, because musicians sound for silver. Pet. Pratest too!-What say you, James Soundpost? 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 musicians 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. 1 This is part of a song by Richard Edwards, to be found in the Paradice of Dainty Devices, fol. 31, b. Another copy of this song is to be found in Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. 2 This worthy takes his name from a small lutestring made of catgut his companion, the fiddler, from an instrument of the same name, men. tioned by many of our old writers, and recorded by Milton as an instru ment of mirth. ACT V. SCENE I. Mantua. A Street. Enter ROMEO. 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 unaccustomed spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. I dreamed my lady came and found me dead, (Strange dream! that gives a dead man leave to think,) And breathed such life with kisses in my lips, That I revived, and was an emperor. Ah me! how sweet is love itself possessed, When but love's shadows are so rich in joy! Enter BALTHASAR. News from Verona !-How now, Balthasar? Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. Rom. Is it even so? Then I defy you, stars! 1 Thus the first quarto. The folio reads: "If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep." The sense appears to be, If I may repose any confidence in the flattering visions of the night. Otway reads: "If I may trust the flattery of sleep." Thou know'st my lodging; get me ink and paper, Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus. Rom. Tush, thou art deceived; Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do. Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? Bal. No, my good lord. Rom. 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. And hereabouts he dwells,-whom late I noted Green, earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, Ap. Enter Apothecary. Who calls so loud? Rom. Come hither, man.-I see that thou art poor; |