Pet. I will then give it you soundly. 1 Mus. What will you give us? Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek 4: 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?

1 Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 2 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

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
think,)

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?

Enter BALTHAZAR.

News from Verona! How now, Balthazar?
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;
Her body sleeps in Capels' monument,
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. 3 Dumps were heavy mournful tunes.

To gleek is to scof, and a gleekman signified a minstrel,

Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus: Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure.

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 BALTHAZAR.

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,
Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him 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 show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said -
And 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!

Enter Apothecary.
Ap.
Who calls so loud?
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 5
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 thine 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,

Welcome from Mantua: What says Romeo?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
John. Going to find a barefoot 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 hence;
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.

Enter PARIS, and his Page, bearing Flowers, and a Torch.

Par. Give me thy torch, boy: Hence, and stand aloof;

Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves)
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
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 bridal

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. [Retires

Enter ROMEO and Balthazar, with a Torch,

Mattock, &c.

Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching iron.

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 see'st 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 7: therefore hence, begone:
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 churchyard 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 show me friendship. Take thou that:

Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow. 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, 7 i, e. A matter of importance.

[They fight. Page. O heaven! they fight, I will go call the [Exit Page. Par. O, I am slain! [Falls.]—If thou be merciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies. 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 9 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 bis paramour ? For fear of that, I will still stay with thee;

s I refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do, i. e. to depart. 9 Presence chamber

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: -

me:

Fear comes upon