Part 23

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