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At some hours in the night spirits resort;-
Enter Lady CAPULET and Nurse.
La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse. Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. Enter CAPU LET.
Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd,
The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:—
Enter Servants, with spits, logs, and baskets.
1 Serv. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Erit 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. [Erit. Cap. 'Mass, and well said; A merry whoreson! ha, Thou shalt be logger-head.—Good faith, 'tis day: The county will be here with musick straight, [Musick within.
Go, waken Juliet, go, and trim her up;
Nurse. O lamentable day!
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. Olamentable day! La. Cap. O woful time! WOL. xIII, Y
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 !