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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
Comes to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
Shall I not then be Itifled in the vault,
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
And there be 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 these many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried Ancestors are packt;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies feftring in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort-)
Alas, alas! is it not like, that I
So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
And shrieks, like mandrakes torn out of the earth,
Thatliving morta ls, hearing them, run mad.--
Or, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
(Environed with all these hideous fears,)
And madly play with my fore-fathers' 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 desp'rate brains ?
O look! methinks, I see my coulin's gholt
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his Body
Upon a Rapier's Point -Stay, Tybalt, stay!
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.
[She throws herself on the bed.
N E - IV.
Changes to Capulet's Hall,
Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.
La. Caß.H De take these keys and fetch more
Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.
Cap. Come, ftir, stir, stir, the fecond cock hath
The curfue-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock :
Look to the bak'd Meats, good Angelica.
Spare noi for coft.
Nurse. Go, go, you cot-quean, go;
Get you to bed ; faith, you'll be fick to-morrow,
For this night's watching.
Cap. No, not a whit: what, I have watch'dere now
All night for a less cause, and ne'er been lick.
La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your
ç i time, But I will watch you, from such watching, now.
[Excunt Lady Capulet and Nurse. Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hoodNow, fellow, what's there?
Enter three or four with spits, and logs, and baskets. Ser. Things for the cook, Sir, but I know not
what. Cap. Make halte, make haste; Sirrah, fetch drier
logs, Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are.
Ser. I have a head, Sir, that will find out logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter.
Cap. ''Mass, and well said, a merry whoreson, ha! Thou shalt be logger-head.-good faith, 'tis day.
[Play music. The County will be here with music straight, For so, he said, he would. I hear him near. Nurse,---wife,—what, ho! what, nurse, I say?
Inter Nurse. Go, waken Juliet, go and trim her up, I'll go and chat with Paris: hie, make haste,
Make halte, the Bridegroom he is come already; Make haite, I say.
[Exeunt Capulet and Nurse, severally.
Nurse. M's Fall, I warrant her,
S CE N E V.
Chenges to Juliet's Chamber, Juliet on a bed.
ISTRESS, what, mistress! Juliet
Why, lamb-why, lady-Fie, you flug-a-bed-
Why, love, I fay-Madam, sweet-heart-why,
brideWhat, not a word ! you take your penyworths now; Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant, The County Paris hath set up his Reft, That you
shall rest but little--God forgive me
Marry, and amen!-How sound is she asleep?
I muit 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 drest, 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' vitæ, ho! my lord, my lady!
Enter Lady Capulet.
La. Cap. What noise is here?
Nurse. O lamentable day!
La. Cap. What's the matter?
Nurse. Look, ---oh heavy day!
La. Cap. Oh me, oh me, my child, my only life!
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee;
Help, help! call help.
Enter Capulet. Cap. For shame, bring juliet fonh; her lord is
Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead : alack.
Cap. Ha! let me see her ---Out, alas ! fhe's cold;
Her blood is settled, and her joints are ftiff:
Life and these lips have long been separated :
Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flow'r of all the field.
Accurfed time! unfortunate old man !
Nurse. O lamentable day!
La. Cap. Owoful Time !
Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me
Ties up my Tongue, and will not let me speak.
Enter Friar Lawrence, and Paris with Musicians.
Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
Cap. Ready to go, but never to return.
O fon, the night before thy wedding-day
Hath Death lain with thy wife: fee, there she lies,
Flow'r as she was, deflower'd now by him :
Death is niy fon-in-law.--
Par. Have I thoughtlong to see this morning's face,
And doth it give me such a fight as this !
La. Cap. Accursid, unhappy, wretched, hateful
Moit miserable hour, that Time e'er saw
Io lasting labour of bis 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 fight.
Nurse. O woe! oh woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day! most woful day!
That ever, ever, I did
Oh day! oh day! oh day! oh hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this :
Oh woful day, oh woful day!
Par. Beguild, divorced, wronged, spighted, flain, Molt deteit able Death, by Three beguilid,
By cruel, cruel Thee quite over-thrown :-
O Love, O Life, not Life, but Love in Death!-
Cap. Despis’d, distrefied, hated, martyr'd, killid,
Uncomfortable Time! why cam it thou now
To 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.
Fri. Peace, ho, for Shame! Confusion's Cure
In these Confusions : Heaven and Yourself
Had Part in this fair Maid; now Heav'n hath All;
And All the better is it for the Maid.
Your Part in her you could not keep from Death;
But Heav'n keeps his Part in eternal Life.
The most, you fought, was her Promotion;
For 'twas your Heav'n, she should be advanc'd:
And weep you now, seeing the is advanc'd,
Above the Clouds, as high as Heav'n himself?
Oh, 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 dics married young.
Dry up your Tears, and flick your Rosemary
On this fair Coarse; and, as ihe Custom.is,
And in her best Array, bear her to Church,
For tho' fome Nature bids us all lament,
Yet Nature's Tears are Reason's Merriment.
Cop. All things, that we ordained festival,
Turn from their Office to black Funeral;
Our Instruments to melancholy Bells,
Our wedding Cheer to a fad Funeral Fealt;
Our solemn Hymns to fullen Dirges change,
Our bridal Flow'rs serve for a buried Coarse ;
And all things change them to the contrary.
Fri. Sir, go you in, and, Madam, go with him;
And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare
To follow this fair Coarse unto her Grave.