The Heav'ns do low'r upon you, for fome ill;
Move them no more, by croffing their high will.
[Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar..
Manent Muficians, and Nurfe.-

Muf. Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone. Nurfe. Honeft good fellows: ah, put up, put up; For, well you know, this is a pitiful cafe. [Exit Nurfe Muf. Ay, by my troth, the cafe may be amended.

Enter Peter:

Pet. Muficians, oh muficians, heart's eafe, heart's cafe: Oh, an you will have me live, why, play heart's ease. Muf. Why, heart's ease?"

Pet. O musicians, because my heart itself plays, my heart itfelf is full of woe. O, play me fome merry dump,

to comfort me !

Muf. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now.
Pet. You will not then? -

M.S. No.

Pet. I will then give it you foundly.

Mu What will you give us?

Pets No money, on my faith, but the gleek: I will give you the minstrel.

Muf. Then will I give you the ferving creature.

Pet. Then will I lay the ferving creature's dagger on your pate.. I will carry no crotchets. I'llre you, l'il fa you, do you note me?

Muf. An you re us, and fa us, you note us..

2 Muf. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

Pet. Then have at you with my wit: I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger :anfwer me like men:

When griping grief the heart doth wound,

Then mufte with her filver found

Why, filver found? why, mufick with her filver found? What fay you, Simon Catling?

1. Muf. Marry, Sir, because filver hath a sweet found. Pet. Pretty! what fay you, Hugh Rebeck?

2 Muf,

2 Muf. I fay, filver found, because musicians found for filver.

Pet. Pretty too! what fay you, Samuel Sound-board? 3 Muf. 'Faith, I know not what to fay.

Pet. O, I cry you mercy, you are the finger, I will Jay for you. It is mufick with her filver found, because fuch fellows, as you, have no gold for founding.

The mufick with her filver found

Doth lend redrefs.

M. What a peftilent knave is this fame?

[Exit, finging.

[Exeunt.

2 Muf. Hang him, Jack; come, we'll in here, tarry for the mourners, and ftay dinner.

TFI may truft the flattering truth of fleep, (28)}

of

My dreams prefage fome joyful news at hand:

My bofom's lord fits lightly on his throne,

And, all this day, an unaccustom'd fpirit

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 fuch life with kiffes in my lips, -
That I reviv'd, and was an Emperor.

Ah me! how fweet is love itself poffeft,
When but love's fhadows are fo rich in joy?

News from Verona

Enter Balthafar.

-How now, Balthafar ? ̈

Doft thou not bring me letters from the Friar?

(28) If I may truft the flatt'ring truth of fleep.] i. e. If I may be-lieve thofe dreams; if I may confide in their flattering tenour, as in a promife of truth.

How

How doth my lady? is my father well?
How doth my Juliet? That I ask again;
For nothing can be ill if the be well.

Balth. Then fhe is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body fleeps in Capulets' monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives:
I faw her laid low in her kindred's vault,.
And presently took poft to tell it you:
O, pardon me for bringing thefe ill news,-
Since you did leave it for my office, Sir.

Rom. Is it even fo? then I defy you, stars! Thou know'it my lodging,get me ink and paper, And hire poft-horfes. 1 will hence to-night.

Balth. Pardon me, Sir, I dare not leave you Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some mifadventure.

Rom. Tufh, thou art deceiv'd ;

Leave me, and do the thing i bid thee do:
Haft thou no letters to me from the Friar ?
Balth. No, my good Lord.

Rom. No matter: get thee gone,

thus.

And hire thofe horfes; I'll be with thee ftraight.

[Exit Balthafar.
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night;.
Let's fee for means-O mischief! thou art fwift
To enter in the thought of defperate men!
I do remember an Apothecary,

And hereabouts he dwells, whom late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of fimples; meager were his looks;
Sharp mifery had worn him to the bones:
And in his needy fhop a tortoise hung,
An alligator ftuft, and other skins

Of ill-fhap'd fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes;

Green earthen pots, bladders, and mufty feeds,.
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses
Were thinly scatter'd to make
up a fhow.

Noting this penury, to myself, I said,
An if a man did need a poifon now,

Whofe

Whofe fale is prefent death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would fell it him.
Oh, this fame thought did but fore-run my need,
And this fame needy man muft fell it me.
As I remember, this fhould be the house.
Being holy-day, the beggar's fhop is fhut:
What, ho! Apothecary! -

Enter Apothecary. ·

Ap. Who calls fo loud?

Rom. Come hither, man; I fee, that thou art poor; ; Hold there is forty ducats let me have

A dram of poifon, fuch foon-speeding geer, -
As will. diiperfe itself thro' all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead;
And that the trunk may be difcharg'd of breath,
As violently, as hafty 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.

Rem. Art thou fo bare and full of wretchednefs, And fear'ft to die? famine is in thy cheeks; Need and oppreffion ftare within thine eyes, Contempt and beggary hang 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. Ap. My poverty, but not my will, confents. Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. A. Put this in any liquid thing you will, And drink it off, and if you had the ftrength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you ftraight. Rom. There is thy gold; worfe poifon to men's fouls, Doing more murders in this loathfome world, Than thefe poor compounds that thou may'st not fell: I fell thee poifon, thou haft fold me none. Farewel, buy food, and get thee into flesh. Come, cordial, and not poifon; go with me To Juliet's grave, for there muft I use thee.

[Exeunt.

་

SCENE changes to the Monaftery at Verona.

Enter Friar John.

Fobn. HOLY Franciscan Friar! brother! ho!

Enter Friar Lawrence to him.

Law. This fame fhould be the voice of Friar John.Welcome from Mantua; what fays Romeo?

Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
Fehn. Going to find a bare-foot brother out,
One of our order, to affociate me,
Here in this city vifiting the fick;
And finding him, the fearchers of the town,
Sufpecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious peftilence did reign,
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;
So that my speed to Mantua there was staid.
Law. Who bore my letter then to Romeo?
John. I could not fend it; here it is again;
Nor get a meffenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.

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 danger. Friar br, go hence,
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.

John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.
Law. Now muft I to the monument alone:
Within these three hours will fair Juliet wake;
She will befhrew 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.

[Exit.

Poor living coarfe, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! [Exit..