The Works of Shakespeare

That he shall soon keep Tybalt company;
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.

Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him-dead-
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd.-
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it,
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet.-O! how my heart abhors

To hear him nam'd,-and cannot come to him,-
To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt
Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him!

To go with Paris to Saint 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.
Fie, fie! 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! disobedient wretch !

I tell thee what,-get thee to church o' Thursday,
Or never after look me in the face.

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;

My fingers itch.-Wife, we scarce thought us bless'd

La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find such a That God had lent us but this only child ;

man.

But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

Jul. And joy comes well in such a needy 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 ?1
La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The county Paris, at Saint Peter's church
Shall happily make thee a joyful bride.

Jul. Now, by Saint 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.

La. Cap.

These are news indeed !2 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 earth doth drizzle dew ; But for the sunset of my brother's son

It rains downright.

How now! a conduit, girl? what! still in tears?
Evermore showering? In one little body
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind:
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,

Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a sudden calm, will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body.-How now, wife!
Have you deliver'd to her our decree ?

But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her.

Out on her, hilding !*

Nurse.

God in heaven bless her!
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,
Good prudence: smatter with your gossips; go.
Nurse. I speak no treason.

Cap.

Nurse. May not one speak?
Cap.

O! God ye good den."

Peace, you mumbling fool!

Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,
For here we need it not.

La. Cap.

You are too hot.

Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad.
Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play,
Alone, in company, still my care hath been
To have her match'd; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,

Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,"
Stuff'd (as they say) with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man,---
And then to have a wretched puling fool,

A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
To answer-"I'll not wed,"-"I cannot love,"
"I am too young,
,"-"I pray you, pardon me.".
But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you;
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me:
Look to 't, think on 't, I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise.
An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i' the streets,
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good.
Trust to 't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn. [Exit.
Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?—
O, sweet my mother, cast me not away!

La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you Delay this marriage for a month, a week;

thanks.

I would, the fool were married to her grave.
Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife.
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?

Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.

La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word.
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [Exit.

Jul. O God!-Onurse! how shall this be prevented ?9
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
How shall that faith return again to earth,

Jul. Not proud you have, but thankful that you have: Unless that husband send it me from heaven
Proud can I never be of what I hate;
But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.

Cap. How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this?
Proud,—and, I thank you,—and, I thank you not ;-
And yet not proud?-Mistress minion, you,3
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next

By leaving earth ?-Comfort me, counsel me.—
Alack! that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself!—
What say'st thou ? hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse.
Nurse.

Faith, here 't is. Romeo
Is banished, and all the world to nothing,

1 this in quarto, 1597. 2 f. e. give this line to JULIET. 3 Not in folio. day. 6 God's blessed mother, wife, it mads me: in quarto, 1597. 7 allied has but one line in place of this speech.

4 A low, disreputable person. 5 God give you good even or in folio. 8 heart could: in quarto, 1597. 9 The quarto, 1597,

That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the county.
O! he's a lovely gentleman

Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye,
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first: or if it did not,

Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,

Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell,
To make confession, and to be absolv'd.
Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.

[Exit.
Jul. Ancient damnation! O, most wicked fiend!
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath praised him with above compare
So many thousand times ?-Go, counsellor;
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.-
And from my soul too; I'll to the friar, to know his remedy;
If all else fail, myself have power to die.

Your first is dead; or 't were as good he were,
As living here and you no use of him.
Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
Nurse.

Or else beshrew them both.

[Exit.

ACT IV.

Fri. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
Par. My father Capulet will have it so;
And I am nothing slow to slack' his haste.

Fri. You say, you do not know the lady's mind :
Uneven is the course; I like it not.

Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And, therefore, have I little talk'd of love;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous,
That she doth give her sorrow so much way,"
And in his wisdom hastes our marriage,

To stop the inundation of her tears;

Par. Happily met,3 my lady, and my wife.
Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
Par. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday next.
Jul. What must be shall be.
Fri.

That's a certain text.
Par. Come you to make confession to this father?
Jul. To answer that, I should confess to you.
Par. Do not deny to him that you love me.
Jul. I will confess to you that I love him.
Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me.
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, which is a truth;
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.
Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own.-

Are you at leisure, holy father, now,

Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.—
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

Par. 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. O Juliet! I already know thy grief

It strains me past the compass of my wits;5
I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this Count.

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. [Showing it."
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, [Offers to strike.°
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 yonder1 tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears :11
Or hide me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless skulls ;

were attached by ribands or

1 slack to slow: in quarto, 1597 2 sway in f. e. 3 Welcome, my love: in quarto, 1597. 4 care in folio. 5 This line is not in quarto, 6 This and the eight following lines, are not in quarto, 1597. 7 Not in f. e. 8 The seals of deeds labels. 9 Not in f. e. 10 any in folio.

1597.

11 Or chain me to some steepy mountain's top, Where roaring bears and savage lions are: in quarto, 1597.

Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud ;1
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.2

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:
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; for no pulse
Shall keep his native progress, but surcease:3
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To paly1 ashes; thy eyes' windows fall,
Like death when he shuts up the day of life;
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 continue 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,
Be borne to burial in thy kindred's grave:
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the meantime, 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, give me! O! 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.

Cap. How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?

Jul. Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition

[Kneeling.

To you, and your behests; and am enjoin'd
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
And beg your pardon.-Pardon, I beseech you:
Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.

Cap. Send for the County: go tell him of this.
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
And gave him what becoming" 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[Exeunt JULIET and Nurse. La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision: 'T is now near night.

Cap.

morrow.

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 won'drous light,

Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-JULIET'S Chamber.

Enter JULIET and Nurse.

Jul. Ay, those attires are best ;-but, gentle nurse. pray thee leave me to myself to-night;

[Exeunt.

For I have need of many orisons

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

To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.
Enter Lady Capulet.

Cap. How canst thou try them so?

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

Cap. Go, begone.—

[Exit Servant.

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

Nurse. Ay, forsooth.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

1 Or lay me in a tomb with one new dead: in quarto, 1597; the undated quarto has shroud; the folio: grave.

2 To keep myself a faithful, unstained wife, To my dear lord, my dearest Romeo in quarto, 1597.

3 A dull and heavy slumber, which shall seize, Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep His natural progress, but surcease to beat: in quarto, 1597. 4 So the undated quarto; others, and folio: many. 5 forward, wilful: in quarto, 1597.

8 In the quarto, 1597, this speech is thus given :

Farewell, God knows when we shall meet again.

Ah, I do take a fearful thing in hand-
What if this potion should not work at all,
Must I of force be married to the county?
This shall forbid it. Knife, lie thou there.
What if the friar should give me this drink
To poison me, for fear I should disclose

Our former marriage? Ah, I wrong him much.
He is a holy and religious man:

6 Not in f. e. 7 becomed: in f.e

I will not entertain so bad a thought.
What if I should be stifled in the tomb?
Awake an hour before the appointed time?
Ah! then I fear I shall be lunatick,
And playing with my dead forefather's bones,
Dash out my frantic brains. Methinks I see
My cousin Tybalt, weltering in his blood,
Seeking for Romeo: stay, Tybalt, stay,-
Romeo, I come, this do I drink to thee.

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,

Shall I be married, then, to-morrow morning ?—
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 festering 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 smell,
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! Romeo! Romeo!-here's drink--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
spices, nurse.

Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.
Enter CAPULet.

Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath
crow'd,

The curfew bell hath rung, 't is three o'clock.—
Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica:

Spare not for cost.

Nurse.1
Go, go, you cot-quean,2 go.
Get you to bed: 'faith, you'll be sick to-morrow
For this night's watching.

Cap. No, not a whit. What! I have watch'd ere now All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.

La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt3 in your But I will watch you from such watching now. [time; [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. Cap. 'Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha! Thou shalt be logger-head.-Good faith! 't is day: The County will be here with music straight,

[Music within.
For so he said he would.—I hear him near.-
Nurse !-Wife !—what, ho!-what, nurse, I say!
Enter Nurse.

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

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

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.

1 Some mod. eds. : Lady Cap. 2 A man who interferes in women's business. Stay, let me see, all pale and wan, Accursed time, unfortunate old man.

Cap. Ready to go, but never to return.-
O son! the night before thy wedding day
Hath death lain with thy wife: 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, living1, all is death's!

Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face,2 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.3

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, divorc'd, wrong'd, spited, slain !
Most detestable 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!-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 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 't was 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, you go in,—and, madam, go with him;-

1 So all old copies. Steevens reads: leaving.
And doth it now present such prodigies?
Accurst, unhappy, miserable man!
Forlorn, forsaken, destitute, I am;
Born to the world to be a slave in it:

3 The quarto, 1597, adds-with the prefix, All:

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. [Exit Nurse. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. Enter PETER. "Heart's ease,"

Pet. Musicians, O, musicians ! Heart's ease" O! an you will have me live, play"Heart's ease."

1 Mus. Why "Heart's ease ?"

Pet. O, musicians! because my heart itself plays

"My heart is full of woe":" O! play me some merry dump, to comfort me.

2 Mus. Not a dump we: 't is no time to play now. Pet. You will not, then?

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 gleek1o: I will give you the 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? [Drawing his Dagger.1 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 my iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. -Answer me like men:

When griping grief the heart doth wound,1
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
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. Thou pratest13!--What say you, Hugh Rebeck ? 2 Mus. I say "silver sound," because musicians sound for silver.

Pet. Thou pratest 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 musicians11 have seldom gold for sounding :Then music with her silver sound, With speedy help doth lend redress.

1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same.

[Exit.

2 Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt.

2 The quarto, 1597, adds:

Distrest, remediless, and unfortunate.

O heavens! O nature! wherefore did you make me To live so vile, so wretched as I shall?

And all our joy, and all our hope is dead;
Dead, lost, undone, absented, wholly fled.

4 care in old copies. Theobald made the change. 5 So the quarto, 1597; folio: And in. 6 The direction, in quarto, 1597, is: They all but the NURSE go forth, casting rosemary on her, and shutting the curtains. 7 8 Names of popular tunes. All old copies, but undated folio, omit: of woe. 9 A strain, or a poem; also, a dance. 10 A jeer. 11 Not in f. e. 12 From a poem, by R. Edwards, in the "Paradise of Dainty Devices." 13 pretty in quarto, 1597. 14 such fellows as you: in quarto, 1597.

« Önceki Devam »

Kitaplar

The Works of Shakespeare: The Text Regulated by the Recently Discovered ...