Look, look. heavy day! La. Cap. O me, O me!-my child, my only life, Pevive, 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. Ccme, 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, 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, And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight. 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?— O child! O child!-my soul, and not my child!Dead art thou, dead!--alack! my child is dead; And, with my child, my joys are buried. Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not In these confusions. Heaven and yourself Your part in her you could not keep from death, 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 lour upon you, for some ill; Move them no more, by crossing their high will. [Exe. 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, playheart's ease. 1 Mus. Why heart's ease? Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays -My heart is full of wo: 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? 2 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:2 I will give you the minstrel. (1) Dumps were heavy mournful tunes. (2) To gleek is to scoff, and a gleekman signified a 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? 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 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 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?! 2 Mus. I say-silver sound, because musicians sound for silver. Pet. Pretty too!-What say you, James Soundpost? 3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say. Pet. 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 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same? 2 Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt. (1) And the jocund rebecks sound.' MILTON ACT V. SCENE I-Mantua. A street. Enter Romeo. Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, News from Verona !-How now, Balthasar? Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill; Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper, And he 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. Rom. Tush, thou art deceiv'd; Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do: (1) i. e. Love. |