To follow this fair corse unto her grave. The heavens do lower upon you for some ill; Move them no more, by crossing their high will. [Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar. 1 Mu. 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 Mu. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. Enter PETER. Peter. Musicians, O, musicians, heart's ease, heart's ease,' O, an you will have me live, play 'heart's ease.' 1 Mu. Why 'heart's ease?' Peter. O musicians, because my heart itself plays, My heart is full of woe.' O, play me some merry dump 1 to comfort me. 1 2 Mu. Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. Peter. You will not then? Mu. No. Peter. I will then give it you soundly. 1 Mu. What will you give us? Peter. No money, on my faith; but the gleek: 2 I will give you the minstrel. 1 Dumps were heavy, mournful tunes, adapted for elegies. 2 A pun is here intended between gleek,' scorn; gleekman,' which signified a minstrel. and 1 Mu. Then will I give you the serving-creature. Peter. 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 Mu. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 2 Mu. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit. Peter. Then have at you with my wit: I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger.-Answer me like men. 'When griping grief the heart doth wound, Then Music, with her silver sound,' Why, silver sound?' why, Music, with her silver sound?'—What say you, Simon Catling? 1 Mu. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. Peter. Pretty!-What say you, Hugh Rebeck ? 2 Mu. I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver. Peter. Pretty too!-What say you, James Soundpost? 3 Mu. Faith, I know not what to say. Peter. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer : I will say for you. It is Music, with her silver sound,' because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding : 'Then Music, with her silver sound, [Exit, singing. 1 Mu. What a pestilent knave is this same ! 2 Mu. Hang him, Jack! Come, we 'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. Mantua. A street. Enter ROMEO. Ro. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: My bosom's lord 1 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 breathed such life with kisses in my lips, Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, Enter BALTHASAR. News from Verona!-How now, Balthasar? 1 i. e. the god of love. How fares my Juliet? That I ask again; Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill; I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, Ro. 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. Bal. Pardon me, sir; I will not leave you thus : Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure. Ro. 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. Ro. And hire those horses: I'll be with thee straight. No matter: get thee gone, [Exit Balthasar. Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night: And hereabouts he dwells,-whom late I noted |