Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again? Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come.

Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining soul; Methinks, I see thee, now thou art below, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu! [Exit ROMEO. Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle: If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune; For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, But send him back.

La. Cap. [Within.] Ho, daughter! are you up?
Jul. Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?
Is she not down so late, or up so early?
What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
Enter Lady CAPulet.

La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet?
Jul.

Madam, I am not well. I.a. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?

What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? An if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him live Therefore, have done: Some grief shows

love;

But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the
friend

Which you weep for.

Feeling so the loss,

Jul.
I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much
for his death,

As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.
Jul. What villain, madam?

La. Cap.
That same villain, Romeo.
Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder
God pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart.
La. Cap. That is, because the traitor murderer
lives.

Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands. 'Would, none but I might venge my cousin's death! La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou

not:

Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time: What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;

One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,
That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for.
Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday

morn,

The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The county Paris, at St. Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.

Jul. Now, by St. Peter's church, and Peter too,'
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this haste; that I must wed
Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.
I pray you tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris:- These are news indeed!
La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him so
yourself,

And see how he will take it at your hands

Enter CAPULET and Nurse.

Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brother's son, It rains downright.

How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count her bless'd, Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought

So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have:

Proud can I never be of what I hate;

But thankful even for hate, that is meant love. Cap. How now! how now, chop-logick! What is this ?

Proud, and, I thank you,—and, I thank you

not;

And yet not proud;- Mistress minion, you,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday nest,
To go with Paris to St. Peter's church,

Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!
You tallow face!

La. Cap. Fye, fye! what are you mad?
Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobediet
wretch!

I tell thee what, get thee to church o'Th
Or never after look me in the face:

Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Jul. The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough, before their spite.

Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.

Jul. That is no slander, sir, that is a truth; And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

Take thou this phial, being then in bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off:
When, presently, through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize
Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep

| His natural progress, but surcease to beat:
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall,

My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

Pan God shield, I should disturb devotion ! Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you : Till then, adieu! and keep this holy kiss.

[Exit PARIS. Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me: Past hope, past cure, past help! Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; It strains me past the compass of my wits: I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this county.

Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:
If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with this knife I'll help it presently.

God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both:
Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time,
Give me some present counsel; or, behold,
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire; arbitrating that
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.

Fri. Hold, daughter; I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry county Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself;
Then is it likely, thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That cop'st with death himself to scape from it;
And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.

Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless sculls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
Things that, to hear them told, have made me
tremble;

And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.

Fri. Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow;
To-morrow night look that thou lie alone,
Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:

Each part, depriv'd of supple government,
Shall stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death:
And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then (as the manner of our country is,)
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier,
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift;
And hither shall he come; and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall, Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame;
If no unconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.

Jul. Give me, O give me! tell me not of fear.
Fri. Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous
In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.
Jul. Love, give me strength! and strength shall
help afford.
Farewell, dear father!

SCENE II. — A Room in Capulet's House. Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, Nurse, and Servants Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ.— [Erit Servant. Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. 2 Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they can lick their fingers.

Cap. How canst thou try them so?

2 Serv. Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers: therefore he, that cannot lick his fingers, goes not with me.

Cap. Go, begone. —

[Erit Servant.

We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.
What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence?
Nurse. Ay, forsooth.

Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her: A peevish self-willd harlotry it is.

And gave him what becomed love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.

Cap. Why, I am glad on't; this is well,stand

up:

This is as't should be. Let me see the county;
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.
Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar,
All our whole city is much bound to him.

Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?
La. Cap. No, not till Thursday; there is time
enough.

Cap. Go, nurse, go with her: — we'll to church to-morrow. [Exeunt JULIET and Nurse. La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision; 'Tis now near night.

Cap. "Tush! I will stir about, And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife: Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her ; I'll not to bed to-night; - let me alone; I'll play the housewife for this once. — What, ho!They are all forth: Well, I will walk myself To county Paris, to prepare him up Against to-morrow: my heart is wond'rous light, Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.

SCENE III. - Juliet's Chamber.

[Exeunt.

I have a faint cold.fear thrills through my veins,
That almost freezes up the heat of life:
I'll call them back again to comfort me ;-
Nurse! What should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone.
Come, phial.

What if this mixture do not work at all?
Must I of force be married to the county?.
No, no; - this shall forbid it: - lie thou there.
[Laying down a dagger.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead;
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I fear, it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,
For he hath still been tried a holy man :
I will not entertain so bad a thought.
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,

I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,

To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
And there die 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 pack'd;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies fest'ring in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort;
Alack, alack! is it not like, that I,

So early waking, what with loathsome smells;
And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad;
O! if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Environed with all these hideous fears?
And madly play with my forefathers' 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 desperate brains?
O, look! methinks, I see my cousin's ghost
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.

SCENE IV. - Capulet's Hall.

Enter Lady CAPULET and Nurse.

La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more

All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time;

But I will watch you from such watching now. [Exeunt Lady CAPULET and Nurse. Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood! - Now, fellow, What's there?

Enter Servants, with spits, logs, and baskets. 1 Serv. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what.

Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit 1 Serv.]— Sirrah, fetch drier logs ;

Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.

2 Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter.

[Exit.

Go, waken Juliet, go, and trim her up ;
I'll go and chat with Paris: - Hie, make haste,
Make haste! the bridegroom he is come already :
Make haste, I say.
[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Juliet's Chamber; JULIET on the Bed.
Enter Nurse.

Nurse. Mistress! -what, mistress! - Juliet!fast, I warrant her, she:

Why, lamb!-why, lady!-fye, you slug-a-bed! Why, love, I say!-madam! sweet-heart!

bride!

why,

What, not a word?—you take your pennyworths now;
Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,
The county Paris hath set up his rest,
That you shall rest but little.
God forgive me,
(Marry, and amen!) how sound is she asleep!
I needs must 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.

La. Cap. What is the matter? Nurse.

O lamentable day!

Look, look! O heavy day! La. Cap. O me, O 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 forth; her lord is

come.

Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead; alack the day!

La. Cap. Alack the day! she's dead, she's dead, she's dead.

Cap. Ha! let me see her :-Out, alas! she's cold; Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff'; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. Accursed time! unfortunate old man! Nurse. O lamentable day! La. Cap.

O woful time!

Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,

Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak. Enter Friar LAURENCE and PARIS, with musicians.

Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to church? Cap. Ready to go, but never to return: O son, the night before thy wedding day Hath death lain with thy bride:-See, there she lies, Flower as she was, deflowered by him. Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir; My daughter he hath wedded! I will die, And leave him all; life leaving, all is death's.

Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's

face,

And doth it give me such a sight as this?

La, Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!

Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw

In lasting labour of his 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 sight.
Nurse. O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day! most woful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!

O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:
O woful day, O woful day!

Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most détestable death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! -
O love! O life! not life, but love in death!
Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!—
Uncomfortable time! why cam'st thou now
To murder murder our solemnity? -

In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid:
Your part in her you could not keep from death;
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was her promotion;
For 'twas your heaven, she should be advanc'd:
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd,
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, 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 dies married young,
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,
In all her best array bear her to church:
For though fond nature bids us all lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.

Cap. All things, that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
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 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.