Part 6
Fri. Hold get you gone, be strong and prosperous: In this resolue, Ile send a Frier with speed To Mantua with my Letters to thy Lord
Iu. Loue giue me strength, And the strength shall helpe afford: Farewell deare father.
Exit
Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Seruing men, two or three.
Cap. So many guests inuite as here are writ, Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning Cookes
Ser. You shall haue none ill sir, for Ile trie if they can licke their fingers
Cap. How canst thou trie them so? Ser. Marrie sir, 'tis an ill Cooke that cannot licke his owne fingers: therefore he that cannot licke his fingers goes not with me
Cap. Go be gone, we shall be much vnfurnisht for this time: what is my Daughter gone to Frier Lawrence? Nur. I forsooth
Cap. Well he may chance to do some good on her, A peeuish selfe-wild harlotry it is. Enter Iuliet.
Nur. See where she comes from shrift With merrie looke
Cap. How now my headstrong, Where haue you bin gadding? Iul. Where I haue learnt me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition: To you and your behests, and am enioyn'd By holy Lawrence, to fall prostrate here, To beg your pardon: pardon I beseech you, Henceforward I am euer rul'd by you
Cap. Send for the Countie, goe tell him of this, Ile haue this knot knit vp to morrow morning
Iul. I met the youthfull Lord at Lawrence Cell, And gaue him what becomed Loue I might, Not stepping ore the bounds of modestie
Cap. Why I am glad on't, this is well, stand vp, This is as't should be, let me see the County: I marrie go I say, and fetch him hither. Now afore God, this reueren'd holy Frier, All our whole Cittie is much bound to him
Iul. Nurse will you goe with me into my Closet, To helpe me sort such needfull ornaments, As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow? Mo. No not till Thursday, there's time inough
Fa. Go Nurse, go with her, Weele to Church to morrow.
Exeunt. Iuliet and Nurse.
Mo. We shall be short in our prouision, 'Tis now neere night
Fa. Tush, I will stirre about, And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife: Go thou to Iuliet, helpe to decke vp her, Ile not to bed to night, let me alone: Ile play the huswife for this once. What ho? They are all forth, well I will walke my selfe To Countie Paris, to prepare him vp Against to morrow, my heart is wondrous light, Since this same way-ward Gyrle is so reclaim'd.
Exeunt. Father and Mother.
Enter Iuliet and Nurse.
Iul. I those attires are best, but gentle Nurse I pray thee leaue me to my selfe to night: For I haue need of many Orysons, To moue the heauens to smile vpon my state, Which well thou know'st, is crosse and full of sin. Enter Mother.
Mo. What are you busie ho? need you my help? Iul. No Madam, we haue cul'd such necessaries As are behoouefull for our state to morrow: So please you, let me now be left alone; And let the Nurse this night sit vp with you, For I am sure, you haue your hands full all, In this so sudden businesse
Mo. Goodnight. Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.
Exeunt.
Iul. Farewell: God knowes when we shall meete againe. I haue a faint cold feare thrills through my veines, That almost freezes vp the heate of fire: Ile call them backe againe to comfort me. Nurse, what should she do here? My dismall Sceane, I needs must act alone: Come Viall, what if this mixture do not worke at all? Shall I be married then to morrow morning? No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there, What if it be a poyson which the Frier Subtilly hath ministred to haue me dead, Least in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, Because he married me before to Romeo? I feare it is, and yet me thinkes it should not, For he hath still beene tried a holy man. How, if when I am laid into the Tombe, I wake before the time that Romeo Come to redeeme me? There's a fearefull point: Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault? To whose foule mouth no healthsome ayre breaths in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes. Or if I liue, is it not very like, The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place, As in a Vaulte, an ancient receptacle, Where for these many hundred yeeres the bones Of all my buried Auncestors are packt, Where bloody Tybalt, yet but greene in earth, Lies festring in his shrow'd, where as they say, At some houres in the night, Spirits resort: Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I So early waking, what with loathsome smels, And shrikes like Mandrakes torne out of the earth, That liuing mortalls hearing them, run mad. O if I wake, shall I not be distraught, Inuironed with all these hidious feares, And madly play with my forefathers ioynts? And plucke the mangled Tybalt from his shrow'd? And in this rage, with some great kinsmans bone, As (with a club) dash out my desperate braines. O looke, me thinks I see my Cozins Ghost, Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body Vpon my Rapiers point: stay Tybalt, stay; Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, here's drinke: I drinke to thee. Enter Lady of the house, and Nurse.
Lady. Hold, Take these keies, and fetch more spices Nurse
Nur. They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastrie. Enter old Capulet.
Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir, The second Cocke hath Crow'd, The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three a clocke: Looke to the bakte meates, good Angelica, Spare not for cost
Nur. Go you Cot-queane, go, Get you to bed, faith youle be sicke to morrow For this nights watching
Cap. No not a whit: what? I haue watcht ere now All night for lesse cause, and nere beene sicke
La. I you haue bin a Mouse-hunt in your time, But I will watch you from such watching now.
Exit Lady and Nurse.
Cap. A iealous hood, a iealous hood, Now fellow, what there? Enter three or foure with spits, and logs, and baskets.
Fel. Things for the Cooke sir, but I know not what
Cap. Make hast, make hast, sirrah, fetch drier Logs. Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are
Fel. I haue a head sir, that will find out logs, And neuer trouble Peter for the matter
Cap. Masse and well said, a merrie horson, ha, Thou shalt be loggerhead; good Father, 'tis day.
Play Musicke
The Countie will be here with Musicke straight, For so he said he would, I heare him neere, Nurse, wife, what ho? what Nurse I say? Enter Nurse.
Go waken Iuliet, go and trim her vp, Ile go and chat with Paris: hie, make hast, Make hast, the Bridegroome, he is come already: Make hast I say
Nur. Mistris, what Mistris? Iuliet? Fast I warrant her she. Why Lambe, why Lady? fie you sluggabed, Why Loue I say? Madam, sweet heart: why Bride? What not a word? You take your peniworths now. Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant The Countie Paris hath set vp his rest, That you shall rest but little, God forgiue me: Marrie and Amen: how sound is she a sleepe? I must needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam, I, let the Countie take you in your bed, Heele fright you vp yfaith. Will it not be? What drest, and in your clothes, and downe againe? I must needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady? Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladyes dead, Oh weladay, that euer I was borne, Some Aqua-vitŠ ho, my Lord, my Lady? Mo. What noise is heere? Enter Mother.
Nur. O lamentable day
Mo. What is the matter? Nur. Looke, looke, oh heauie day
Mo. O me, O me, my Child, my onely life: Reuiue, looke vp, or I will die with thee: Helpe, helpe, call helpe. Enter Father.
Fa. For shame bring Iuliet forth, her Lord is come
Nur. Shee's dead: deceast, shee's dead: alacke the day
M. Alacke the day, shee's dead, shee's dead, shee's dead
Fa. Ha? Let me see her: out alas shee's cold, Her blood is setled and her ioynts are stiffe: Life and these lips haue long bene seperated: Death lies on her like an vntimely frost Vpon the swetest flower of all the field
Nur. O Lamentable day! Mo. O wofull time
Fa. Death that hath tane her hence to make me waile, Ties vp my tongue, and will not let me speake. Enter Frier and the Countie.
Fri. Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church? Fa. Ready to go, but neuer to returne. O Sonne, the night before thy wedding day, Hath death laine with thy wife: there she lies, Flower as she was, deflowred by him. Death is my Sonne in law, death is my Heire, My Daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leaue him all life liuing, all is deaths
Pa. Haue I thought long to see this mornings face, And doth it giue me such a sight as this? Mo. Accur'st, vnhappie, wretched hatefull day, Most miserable houre, that ere time saw In lasting labour of his Pilgrimage. But one, poore one, one poore and louing Child, But one thing to reioyce and solace in, And cruell death hath catcht it from my sight
Nur. O wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day, Most lamentable day, most wofull day, That euer, euer, I did yet behold. O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day, Neuer was seene so blacke a day as this: O wofull day, O wofull day
Pa. Beguild, diuorced, wronged, spighted, slaine, Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, By cruell, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne: O loue, O life; not life, but loue in death
Fat. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martir'd, kil'd, Vncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now To murther, murther our solemnitie? O Child, O Child; my soule, and not my Child, Dead art thou, alacke my Child is dead, And with my Child, my ioyes are buried
Fri. Peace ho for shame, confusions: Care liues not In these confusions, heauen and your selfe Had part in this faire Maid, now heauen hath all, And all the better is it for the Maid: Your part in her, you could not keepe from death, But heauen keepes his part in eternall life: The most you sought was her promotion, For 'twas your heauen, she shouldst be aduan'st, And weepe ye now, seeing she is aduan'st Aboue the Cloudes, as high as Heauen it selfe? O in this loue, you loue your Child so ill, That you run mad, seeing that she is well: Shee's not well married, that liues married long, But shee's best married, that dies married yong. Drie vp your teares, and sticke your Rosemarie On this faire Coarse, and as the custome is, And in her best array beare her to Church: For though some Nature bids all vs lament, Yet Natures teares are Reasons merriment
Fa. All things that we ordained Festiuall, Turne from their office to blacke Funerall: Our instruments to melancholy Bells, Our wedding cheare, to a sad buriall Feast: Our solemne Hymnes, to sullen Dyrges change: Our Bridall flowers serue for a buried Coarse: And all things change them to the contrarie
Fri. Sir go you in; and Madam, go with him, And go sir Paris, euery one prepare To follow this faire Coarse vnto her graue: The heauens do lowre vpon you, for some ill: Moue them no more, by crossing their high will.
Exeunt.
Mu. Faith we may put vp our Pipes and be gone
Nur. Honest goodfellowes: Ah put vp, put vp, For well you know, this is a pitifull case
Mu. I by my troth, the case may be amended. Enter Peter.
Pet. Musitions, oh Musitions, Hearts ease, hearts ease, O, and you will haue me liue, play hearts ease
Mu. Why hearts ease; Pet. O Musitions, Because my heart it selfe plaies, my heart is full
Mu. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now
Pet. You will not then? Mu. No
Pet. I will then giue it you soundly
Mu. What will you giue vs? Pet. No money on my faith, but the gleeke. I will giue you the Minstrell
Mu. Then will I giue you the Seruing creature
Peter. Then will I lay the seruing Creatures Dagger on your pate. I will carie no Crochets, Ile Re you, Ile Fa you, do you note me? Mu. And you Re vs, and Fa vs, you Note vs
2.M. Pray you put vp your Dagger, And put out your wit. Then haue at you with my wit
Peter. I will drie-beate you with an yron wit, And put vp my yron Dagger. Answere me like men: When griping griefes the heart doth wound, then Musicke with her siluer sound. Why siluer sound? why Musicke with her siluer sound? what say you Simon Catling? Mu. Mary sir, because siluer hath a sweet sound
Pet. Pratest, what say you Hugh Rebicke? 2.M. I say siluer sound, because Musitions sound for siluer Pet. Pratest to, what say you Iames Sound-Post? 3.Mu. Faith I know not what to say
Pet. O I cry you mercy, you are the Singer. I will say for you; it is Musicke with her siluer sound, Because Musitions haue no gold for sounding: Then Musicke with her siluer sound, with speedy helpe doth lend redresse. Enter.
Mu. What a pestilent knaue is this same? M.2. Hang him Iacke, come weele in here, tarrie for the Mourners, and stay dinner. Enter.
Enter Romeo.
Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleepe, My dreames presage some ioyfull newes at hand: My bosomes L[ord]. sits lightly in his throne: And all this day an vnaccustom'd spirit, Lifts me aboue the ground with cheerefull thoughts. I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead, (Strange dreame that giues a dead man leaue to thinke,) And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, That I reuiu'd and was an Emperour. Ah me, how sweet is loue it selfe possest, When but loues shadowes are so rich in ioy. Enter Romeo's man.
Newes from Verona, how now Balthazer? Dost thou not bring me Letters from the Frier? How doth my Lady? Is my Father well? How doth my Lady Iuliet? that I aske againe, For nothing can be ill, is she be well
Man. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. Her body sleepes in Capels Monument, And her immortall part with Angels liue, I saw her laid low in her kindreds Vault, And presently tooke Poste to tell it you: O pardon me for bringing these ill newes, Since you did leaue it for my office Sir
Rom. Is it euen so? Then I denie you Starres. Thou knowest my lodging, get me inke and paper, And hire Post-Horses, I will hence to night
Man. I do beseech you sir, haue patience: Your lookes are pale and wild, and do import Some misaduenture
Rom. Tush, thou art deceiu'd, Leaue me, and do the thing I bid thee do. Hast thou no Letters to me from the Frier? Man. No my good Lord.
Exit Man.
Rom. No matter: Get thee gone, And hyre those Horses, Ile be with thee straight, Well Iuliet, I will lie with thee to night: Lets see for meanes, O mischiefe thou art swift, To enter in the thoughts of desperate men: I do remember an Appothecarie, And here abouts dwells, which late I noted In tattred weeds, with ouerwhelming browes, Culling of Simples, meager were his lookes, Sharp miserie had worne him to the bones: And in his needie shop a Tortoyrs hung, An Allegater stuft, and other skins Of ill shap'd fishes, and about his shelues, A beggerly account of emptie boxes , Greene earthen pots, Bladders, and mustie seedes, Remnants of packthred, and old cakes of Roses Were thinly scattered, to make vp a shew. Noting this penury, to my selfe I said, An if a man did need a poyson now, Whose sale is present death in Mantua, Here liues a Caitiffe wretch would sell it him. O this same thought did but fore-run my need, And this same needie man must sell it me. As I remember, this should be the house, Being holy day, the beggers shop is shut. What ho? Appothecarie? Enter Appothecarie.
App. Who call's so low'd? Rom. Come hither man, I see that thou art poore, Hold, there is fortie Duckets, let me haue A dram of poyson, such soone speeding geare, As will disperse it selfe through all the veines, That the life-wearie-taker may fall dead, And that the Trunke may be discharg'd of breath, As violently, as hastie powder fier'd Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe
App. Such mortall drugs I haue, but Mantuas law Is death to any he, that vtters them
Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchednesse, And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheekes, Need and opression starueth in thy eyes, Contempt and beggery hangs vpon thy backe: The world is not thy friend, nor the worlds law: The world affords no law to make thee rich. Then be not poore, but breake it, and take this
App. My pouerty, but not my will consents
Rom. I pray thy pouerty, and not thy will
App. Put this in any liquid thing you will And drinke it off, and if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight
Rom. There's thy Gold, Worse poyson to mens soules, Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Then these poore compounds that thou maiest not sell. I sell thee poyson, thou hast sold me none, Farewell, buy food, and get thy selfe in flesh. Come Cordiall, and not poyson, go with me To Iuliets graue, for there must I vse thee.
Exeunt.
Enter Frier Iohn to Frier Lawrence.
Iohn. Holy Franciscan Frier, Brother, ho? Enter Frier Lawrence.
Law. This same should be the voice of Frier Iohn. Welcome from Mantua, what sayes Romeo? Or if his mind be writ, giue me his Letter
Iohn. Going to find a bare-foote Brother out, One of our order to associate me, Here in this Citie visiting the sick, And finding him, the Searchers of the Towne Suspecting that we both were in a house Where the infectious pestilence did raigne, Seal'd vp the doores, and would not let vs forth, So that my speed to Mantua there was staid
Law. Who bare my Letter then to Romeo? Iohn. I could not send it, here it is againe, Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, So fearefull were they of infection
Law. Vnhappie Fortune: by my Brotherhood The Letter was not nice; but full of charge, Of deare import; and the neglecting it May do much danger: Frier Iohn go hence, Get me an Iron Crow, and bring it straight Vnto my Cell
Iohn. Brother Ile go and bring it thee. Enter.
Law. Now must I to the Monument alone, Within this three houres will faire Iuliet wake, Shee will beshrew me much that Romeo Hath had no notice of these accidents: But I will write againe to Mantua, And keepe her at my Cell till Romeo come, Poore liuing Coarse, clos'd in a dead mans Tombe, Enter.
Enter Paris and his Page.
Par. Giue me thy Torch Boy, hence and stand aloft, Yet put it out, for I would not be seene: Vnder yond young Trees lay thee all along, Holding thy eare close to the hollow ground, So shall no foot vpon the Churchyard tread, Being loose, vnfirme with digging vp of Graues, But thou shalt heare it: whistle then to me, As signall that thou hearest some thing approach, Giue me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go
Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the Churchyard, yet I will aduenture
Pa. Sweet Flower with flowers thy Bridall bed I strew: O woe, thy Canopie is dust and stones, Which with sweet water nightly I will dewe, Or wanting that, with teares destil'd by mones; The obsequies that I for thee will keepe, Nightly shall be, to strew thy graue, and weepe.
Whistle Boy.
The Boy giues warning, something doth approach, What cursed foot wanders this wayes to night, To crosse my obsequies, and true loues right? What with a Torch? Muffle me night a while. Enter Romeo, and Peter.
Rom. Giue me that Mattocke, & the wrenching Iron, Hold take this Letter, early in the morning See thou deliuer it to my Lord and Father, Giue me the light; vpon thy life I charge thee, What ere thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloofe, And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death, Is partly to behold my Ladies face: But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger, A precious Ring, a Ring that I must vse, In deare employment, therefore hence be gone: But if thou iealous dost returne to prie In what I further shall intend to do, By heauen I will teare thee ioynt by ioynt, And strew this hungry Churchyard with thy limbs: The time, and my intents are sauage wilde: More fierce and more inexorable farre, Them emptie Tygers, or the roaring Sea
Pet. I will be gone sir, and not trouble you Ro. So shalt thou shew me friendship: take thou that, Liue and be prosperous, and farewell good fellow
Pet. For all this same, Ile hide me here about, His lookes I feare, and his intents I doubt
Rom. Thou detestable mawe, thou wombe of death, Gorg'd with the dearest morsell of the earth: Thus I enforce thy rotten Iawes to open, And in despight, Ile cram thee with more food
Par. This is that banisht haughtie Mountague, That murdred my Loues Cozin; with which griefe, It is supposed the faire Creature died, And here is come to do some villanous shame To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him. Stop thy vnhallowed toyle, vile Mountague: Can vengeance be pursued further then death? Condemned villaine, I do apprehend thee. Obey and go with me, for thou must die, Rom. I must indeed, and therfore came I hither: Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man, Flie hence and leaue me, thinke vpon those gone, Let them affright thee. I beseech thee Youth, Put not an other sin vpon my head, By vrging me to furie. O be gone, By heauen I loue thee better then my selfe, For I come hither arm'd against my selfe: Stay not, be gone, liue, and hereafter say, A mad mans mercy bid thee run away
Par. I do defie thy commisseration, And apprehend thee for a Fellon here
Ro. Wilt thou prouoke me? Then haue at thee Boy
Pet. O Lord they fight, I will go call the Watch
Pa. O I am slaine, if thou be mercifull, Open the Tombe, lay me with Iuliet