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 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

1 Mus. Why "Heart's ease?"

Pet. O, musicians! because my heart itself plays My heart is full of woe:" O! play me some merry dump, 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? [Drawing his Dagger.

SCENE I.-Mantua. A Street.

Enter ROMEO.

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.

Pet. Then have at you with my wit. I will drybeat you with my 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 sound. Pet. Thou pratest!-What say you, Hugh Rebeck? 2 Mus. I say "silver sound," because musicians

Rom. If I may trust the flattering death 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 BALTHASAR.

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:
Her body sleeps in Capulet's 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 e'en 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. I do beseech you, sir, have patience: Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure.

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.
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, which 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—
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 forerun 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.

Enter Apothecary.

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
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.

What said my man,

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, [Taking it.
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? I will 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 still will stay with thee,
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again: here, here will I remain

With worms that are thy chambermaids; O! here
Will I set up my everlasting rest,

And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars

From this world-wearied flesh.-Eyes, look your last:
Arms, take your last embrace; and lips, O! you,
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss

A dateless bargain to engrossing death.-
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.

[Dies near JULIET. Enter, at the other End of the Churchyard, Friar LAURENCE, with a Lantern, Crow, and Spade; and BALTHASAR following.

Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled at graves?—Who's there? Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, What torch is yond', that vainly lends his light To grubs and eyeless sculls? as I discern, It burneth in the Capulets' monument.

Full half an hour.

Fri. How long hath he been there?
Bal.

Fri. Go with me to the vault.
Bal.

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 me;
O! much I fear some ill unthrifty thing.
Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,

I dreamt my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him.

Romeo!

[Exit. [Advancing.

Fri.
Alack, alack! what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre ?--
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace!

[Entering 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.
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 nest
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 no

longer stay.

[Exit.

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 left 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. Thy lips are warm!

ger!

[Kisses him.

1 Watch. [Within.] Lead, boy:-which way? Jul. Yea, noise?-then I'll be brief.-O happy dag[Snatching RoMEO's Dagger. This is thy sheath; [Stabs herself;] there rest, and let me die. [Dies. Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS. Page. This is the place; there, where the torch doth

burn.

1 Watch. The ground is bloody: search about the churchyard.

Go, some of you; whoe'er you find, attach. [Exeunt some.
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead,
Pitiful sight! here lies the County slain ;-
Who here hath lain these two days buried.-
Go, tell the Prince,-run to the Capulets,-
Raise up the Montagues,-some others search.-
[Exeunt other Watchmen.
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
But the true ground of all these piteous woes
We cannot without circumstance descry.

Enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR. 2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard.

1 Watch. Hold him in safety, till the Prince come hither.

Enter another Watchman, with Friar LAURENCE.
3 Watch. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and
weeps:

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 rest?

Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, and others.
Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?
La. Cap. O! the people in the street cry Romeo,
Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run
With open outcry toward our monument.

Prince. What fear is this which startles in your ears? 1 Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris slain; And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, Warm and new kill'd.

Prince. Search, seek, and know how this foul murder

comes.

1 Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's

man,

With instruments upon them, fit to open
These dead men's tombs.

Cap. O, heaven!-O, wife! look how our daughter bleeds!

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 farther 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 outcry for a while, Till we can clear these ambiguities,

And know their spring, their head, their true descent;
And then will I be general of your woes,
And lead you even to death. Mean time forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.-
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet most suspected, as the time and place
Do make against me, of this direful murder;
And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
Myself condemned, and myself excus'd.

Prince. Then, say at once what thou dost know in this.
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
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 Romeo,
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 stay'd 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 waked; 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 sacrificed some hour before the time,
Unto the rigour of severest law.

Prince. We still have known thee for a holy man.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 vault, 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 friar's words, 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! Montagu! 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. Mon.

[They shake hands.

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 fair and faithful Juliet.

Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie;
Poor sacrifices of our enmity.

Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it brings,
The sun for sorrow will not show 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.

[Exeunt.

Poet. Good day, sir.

Pain. I am glad you're well.

Poet. I have not seen you long. How goes the world?

Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows.
Poet.

Pain. A picture, sir.-When comes your book forth? Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.

Let's see your piece.

Pain. 'Tis a good piece.

[Showing it.

Poet. So 'tis this comes off well, and excellent. Pain. Indifferent.

Poet.

But what particular rarity? what strange,
Which manifold record not matches? See,
Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant.
Pain. I know them both: th' other's a jeweller.
Mer. O! 'tis a worthy lord.
Jew.
Nay, that's most fix'd.
Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd, as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness:

He passes.

Jew.

I have a jewel here- [Showing it. Mer. O pray, let's see't. For the lord Timon, sir? Jew. If he will touch the estimate; but, for thatPoet. "When we for recompense have prais'd the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good."

Mer. 'Tis a good form. Jew. And rich: here is a water, look ye. Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication

One might interpret.

Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch; is't good?

Poet.

I'll say of it,

It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

Enter certain Senators, who pass over the Stage.
Pain. How this lord is follow'd!

Poet. The senators of Athens :-happy men!
Pain. Look, more!

Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors.

I have in this rough work shap'd out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: my free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of verse: no levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold,
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.

Pain. How shall I understand you?
Poet. I will unbolt to you.

You see how all conditions, how all minds,
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as
Of grave and austere quality) tender down
Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,