## The Prologue.

### CHORUS.

Two households both alike in dignity,
(In faire Verona, where we lay our Scene)
From ancient grudge breake to new mutiny,
where civill blood makes civill hands uncleane.
From forth the fatall loines of these two foes
A paire of starre-croft lovers take their life,
whose misadventur'd piteous overthrowes
Doth with their death burie their Parentis strive.
The fearefull passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their Parentis rage,
which but their childrens endnought could remove,
Is now the two houres trafficke of our Stage,
The which if you with patient eares attend,
What here shall misse, our toyle shall strive to mend.

# THE MOST EXCEL-
LENT AND LAMENTABLE

## Historie of ROMEO and
JULIET.

Enter Sampson and Gregorie with Swords and Bucklers,
of the House of Capulet.

Amp. Gregorie, on my word we'll not carry coales.
Greg. No, for then we should be Colliers.
Samp. I meane, and we be in choler we'll draw.
Greg. I while you live draw your necke out of the collar.

Samp. I strike quickly being moved.

Greg. But thou art not quickly moved to strike.

Samp. A dogge of the house of Mountague moves me.

Greg. To move is to stirre, and to be valiant is to stand,
Therefore if thou art moved thou runn'st away.

Samp. A dogge of that house shall move me to stand.
I will take the wall of any man or maide of Mountagues.

Greg. That theyes thee a weake slave, for the weakeft goes to the wall.

Samp. 'Tis true, and therefore women being the weaker vels,
sels are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Mountagues
men from the wall, and thrust his maides to the wall.

Greg. The quarrell is between our Masters and us their men.

Samp. 'Tis all one, I will shew my selfe a Tyrant, when I have
fought with the men I will be cruell with the maides, I will cut off
their heads.

Greg. The heads of the maids!

A 2

Samp.

## The most lamentable Tragedy

Samp. I, the heads of the maides, or their maiden-heads, take it in what sense thou wilt.

Greg. They must take it in sense that feele it.

Samp. Mee they shall feele while I am able to stand; and 'tis knowne I am a pretty piece of flesh.

Greg. 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst beene poore John: draw thy toole, here comes of the home of Mountagues.

Enter two other Servingmen.

Samp. My naked weapon is out, quarrell, I will backe thee.

Greg. How, turne thy backe and runne?

Samp. Feare me not.

Greg. No marrie, I feare thee!

Samp. Let us take the Law of our fides, let them begin.

Greg. I will frown as I pass by, & let them take it as they lift.

Samp. Nay as they dare: I will bite my thumb at them, which is a disgrace to them if they beare it.

Abra. Doe you bite your thumb at us fir?

Samp. I doe bite my thumb fir.

Abra. Doe you bite your thumbe at us fir?

Samp. Is the law on our side, if I say I?

Greg. No.

Samp. No fir, I doe not bite my thumbe at you fir, but I bite my thumbe fir.

Greg. Doe you quarrell fir?

Abra. Quarrell fir, no fir.

Samp. But if you doe fir, I am for you, I serve as good a man as you.

Abra. No better.

Samp. Well fir.

Enter Benvolio.

Greg. Say better, here comes one of my Masters kinsmen.

Samp. Yes better fir.

Abra. You lie.

Samp. Draw if you be men, Gregory remember thy washing blow. They fight.

Ben. Part fooles, put up your words, you know not what you doe.

Enter

## of Romeo and Juliet.

Enter Tibalt.

Tibalt. What? art thou drawne among these heartless hinders? Turne thee Benvolio, looke upon thy death.

Ben. I doe but keepe the peace, put up thy sword, Or mannage it to part these men with me.

Tib. What drawne and talke of peace? I hate the word, As I hate hell, all Mountagues, and thee:

Have at thee Coward.

Enter three or four Citizens with clubs or partisans. Offi. Clubs, bills, and partisans, strike, beat them down. Downe with the Capulets, downe with the Mountagues.

Enter old Capulet in his gowne, and his Wife.

Cap. What noife is this? give me my long sword hoe.

Wife. A crutch, a crutch, why call you for a sword?

Cap. My sword I say, old Mountague is come,

And flourishes his blade in sight of me.

Enter old Mountague and his Wife.

Moun. Thou villaine Capulets: hold me not, let me goe

M. Wife 2. Thou shalt not stir one foot to feeke a foe.

Enter Prince Eskales, with his traine.

Prince. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-killed feele,

Will they not heare? what hoe, you men, you beafts,

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage.

With purple fountaines iffuing from your veines,

On paine of torture, from thole bloody hands

Throw your miftemper'd weapons to the ground,

And heare the sentence of your moved Prince.

Three civill brawles bred of an ayrie word,

By thee old Capulet and Mountague,

Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,

And made Verona's ancient Citizens

Cadt by their grave befeeming ornaments,

To wield old partisans in hands as old,

Cancred with peace, to part your cancred hate:

If ever you disturb our streets againe,

Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

A

The most lamentable Tragedy

For this time all the rest depart away:
You Capulet shall goe along with me,
And Mountague come you this afternoone,
To know our further pleasure in this cafe,
To old Free-Towne, our common judgement place.
Once more on paine of death all men depart.

Exeunt.

Mount. Who let this ancient quarrell new approach?
Speake Nephew, were you by when it began?

Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary
And yours close fighting ere I did approach;
I drew to part them, in the instant came
The fiery Tibalt with his word prepar'd,
Which as he breath'd defiance to my cares,
He fwong about his head and cut the windes,
Who nothing hurt withall, his'd him in cornes;
While we were entering changing thrusts and blowes,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
Till the Prince came, who parted either part.

Wife. O where is Romeo, law you him to day?

Right glad am I he was not at this fray.

Ben. Madam, an houre before the worshipt funne
Peerd forth the golden window of the East,
A troubled minde drave me to walke abroad,
Where underneath the grove of Sycamore
That Westward rooteth from this City fide,
So early walking did I see your Sonne :
Tow'rds him I made ; but he was ware of me,
And role into the covert of the wood.
I measuring his affections by my owne,
Which then moft fought where moft might not be found,
Being one too many by my weary selfe,
Purfu'd my humour, nor purfuing his,
And gladly flunn'd, who gladly fled from me.

Mount. Many a morning hath he there been feene,
With teares augmenting the fresh mornings dew,
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep figges,

But

of Romeo and Juliet.

But all so soone as the all cheering Sunne
Should in the fartheft East begin to draw,
The hadie curtains from Aurora's bed,
Away from light iteales home my heavie Sonne,
And private in his chamber pens himselfe,
Shuts up his windowes, locke faire day-light out,
And makes himselfe an artificiall night.
Blake and portendous must this humour prove,
Unleffe good counsell may the caufe remove.

Ben. My noble unkle doe you know the caufe?

Moun. I neither know it, nor can I leane of him.

Ben. Have you importun'd him by any meanes?

Moun. Both by my selfe and many other friends.

But he his owne affections Counsellor
Is to himselfe (I will not fay how true)
But to himselfe to fecret and to clofe,
So farre from founding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worme,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the ayre,
Or dedicate his beauty to the fame
Could we but learne from whence his frowes grow,
We would as willingly give cure as know.

Enter Romeo.

Ben. See where he comes; so please you step aside,
Ile know his grievance or be much deni'd.

Moun. I would thou wert so happy by thy ftay,
To heare true ſhrift: Come Madam lets away.

Exeunt.

Benvol. Good morrow Confin.

Rem. Is the day so young?

Ben. But new frooke nine.

Rem. Ay me, ad houres ſeeme long:

Was that my father that went hence to ſaft?

Ben. It was : what tadneſſe lengthens Romeos houres?

Rem. Not having that, which having makes them ſhort.

Ben. In love?

Rem. Out.

Ben. Of love?

Rom.

The most lamentable Tragedy

Rom. Out of her favour where I am in love.

Ben. Alas that love to gentle in his view,

Should be so tyrannous and rough in proofe !

Rom. Alas that love, whose view is muffled still,

Should without eyes see pathwayes to his will?

Where shall we dine? O me, what fray was here?

Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all:

Here's much to doe with hate, but more with love:

Why then O brawling love, O loving hate,

O any thing of nothing first created,

O heavie lightneſſe, ſerious vanity,

Mifhapen Chaos of well ſeeming ſormes,

Feather of lead, bright ſmoke, cold fire, ſicke health

Still waking ſleepe, that is not what it is.

This love ſeele I, that ſeele no love in this:

Dost thou not laugh?

Ben. No Coze, I rather weepe.

Rom. Good heart at what ?

Ben. At thy good hearts oppreſſion.

Rom. Why ſuch is loves tranſgreſſion.

Griefes of my owne lye heavie in my breast,

Which thou wilt propagate to have it preſt

With more of thine: this love that thou haſt ſhowne,

Doth adde more griefe to too much of mine owne.

Love is a ſmoke made with the fume of ſighes,

Being purg'd, a fire ſparkling in lovers eyes :

Being vext, a ſea nourifht with loving teares:

What is it else ? a madneſſe moſt diſcreet,

A choking gall, and a preferving sweet.

Farewell my Coze.

Ben. Soft, I will goe along,

And if you leave me to you doe me wrong.

Rom. Tut, I have left my ſelfe, I am not here,

This is not Romeo, hee's ſome other where.

Ben. Tell me in ſadneſſe, who is that you love?

Rom. What ? shall I groane and tell thee?

Ben. Grone, why no, but fadly tell me who.

Rom.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Rom. Bid a ſicke man in ſadneſſe make his will:

A word ill urg'd to one that is so ill:

In ſadneſſe cousin I doe love a woman.

Ben. I aym'd to neare when I ſuppos'd you lov'd.

Rom. A right good marke-man : and ſhee's faire I love.

Ben. A right faire marke, faire Coze, is ſooner hit.

Rom. Well, in that hit you miffed; ſhee'll not be hit

With Cupids arrow, ſhe hath Dians wit:

And in ſtrong proofe of chaſtity well arm'd,

From loves weake childſh bow ſhee lives uncharm'd:

She will not stay the ſiege of loving tearmes,

Nor bide th' encounter of affailing eyes,

Nor ope her lap to Saint ſeducing gold:

O she is rich in beauty, onely poore,

That when ſhe dyes, with beauty dyes her ſtore.

Ben. Then ſhe hath ſworne that ſhe will ſtill live chafte.

Rom. ſheethath, and in that ſparing makes huge waſt,

For beauty ſtrev'd with her ſeverity,

Cuts beauty off from all posterity.

Shee is too faire, too wife, wifely too faire,

To merit bliffe by making me deſpaires:

She hath forsworne to love, and in that vow,

Doe I live dead, that live to tell it now.

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to thinke of her.

Rom. O teach me how I should forget to thinke

Ben. By giving libertie unto thine eyes,

Examine other beauties.

Rom. 'Tis the way to call hers (exquifite) in queſtion more : Theſe happy Maskes that kiffe faire Ladies browes,

Being blacke, put us in minde they hide the faire:

He that is ſtrucken blinde cannot forget

The precious treaſure of his eye-fight loſt.

Shew me a Miftris that is paſſing faire,

What doth her beauty ſerve, but as a note,

Where I may read who paſt that paſſing faire?

Farewell, thou canſt not teach me to forget.

Ben. 'Ile pay that doctrine, or else dye in debt,

B

Exequie.
Easter

The most lamentable Tragedy

Enter Capulet, County Paris, and the Clowns

Cap. And Mountague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard, I thinke,
For men to old as we to keep the peace.

Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both,
And pitie 'tis you liv'd at ods so long;
But now my Lord what say you to my suite?

Cap. But laying o're what I have laid before:
My childe is yet a stranger in the world,
Shee hath not seene the change of fourteene yeeres:
Let two more Summers wither in their pride
Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a Bride.

Paris. Younger than she are happy mothers made.

Cap. And too loose mar'd are those so early made:
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,

She is the hopeful Lady of my earth:
But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part:

And the agree, within her scope of choice

Lyes my consent, and faire according voice.

This night I hold an old accustomed feast,

Where to I have invited many a guest,

Such as I love, and you among the store.

One more (most welcome) makes my number more:
At my poor house I take to behold this night,

Earth treading starres that make darke heaven light

Such comfort as doe lufty young men feele,

When well appareld April on the heele

Of limping winter treads; even such delight

Among fresh Fennell buds, shall you this night

Inherit at my house, heare all, all fee,

And like her most whose merit most shall be:

Whichon more view of many, mine being one,

May stand in number, though in reckning none.

Come, goe with me; goe sitrah, trudge about,

Through faire Verona, finde those persons out,

Whole names are written here, and to them say:

My

of Romeo and Juliet:

My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

Exit.

Ser. Find them out whose names are written. Here it is written, that the Phoo-maker should meddle with his yard, and the tayler with his Laft, the fith er with his penfill, and the painter with his nets. But I am sent to finde those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ (I must to the learned) in good time.

Enter Benvolio and Romeo.

Ben. Tut man, one fire burnes out anothers burning.
One paine is lefned by anothers anguifh:

Turne giddy, and be holpe by backward turning,

One desperate griefe cures with anothers languifh:

Take thou some new infection to the eye,

And the ranke poyſon of the old will dye.

Rom. Your Plantan leafe is excellent for that.

Ben. For what I pray thee?

Rom. For your broken ſhin.

Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad?

Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad man is,
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,

Whipt and tormented, and Godden good fellow.

Ser. Godgigoden, I pray fir can you reade?

Rom. I, mine owne fortune in a miſery.

Ser. Perhaps you have learned it without booke,
But I pray can you read any thing you fee?

Rom. I, if I know the letters and the language.

Ser. Ye lay honesely, reſt ye merry.

Rom. Stay fellow, I can read.

He reads the Letter.

SEsigneur Martino, and his wife & daughters; County Anfelle and his beauteous fifters; the Lady widdow of Ultruvio, Seigneur Placentio, and his lovely Neece; MercEUtio and his brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet; his wife and daughters; my faire Niece Rosaline, Livia; Seigneur Valentio, and his cousin Tibalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.

A faire assembly, whither should they come?

B 2

Ser.

The most lamentable Tragedy

Ser. Up.

Rom. Whither? to snipper?

Ser. To our house.

Rom. Whose house?

Ser. My Masters.

Rom. Indeed I should have asked you that before.

Ser. Now I'll tell you without asking: My Master is the great rich Capulet; & if you be not of the house of Mountaguet, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Reft you merry.

Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulets, Supp the faire Rosaline whom thou so lovest, With all the admired beauties of Verona: Goe thither, and with unattainted eye Compare her face with some that I shall shew, And I will make thee thinke thy swan a crow.

Rom. When the devout Religion of mine eye, Maintaines such falhood, then turne teares to fire, And these who often drown'd could never dye, Transparent Heretickes be burnt for liars. One fairer than my love! th' all-seeing Sun Ne're saw her match, since first the world begun.

Ben. Tut, you saw her faire none else being by. Her selfe pois'd with her selfe in either eye : But in that Chryfall scales let there be waigh'd, Your Ladies love against some other maide. That I will shew you shining at this feast, And she shall scant shew well that now shewes beft.

Re. Ile goe along no such fight to be showne, But to rejoice in splendor of mine owne.

Enter Capulets Wife and Nurfe.

Wife. Nurfe, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.

Nurfe. Now by my maiden-head at twelve yeeres, old I had her: come, what Lamb, what Lady-bird, God forbid.

Where's this Girl? what Juliet.

Enter Juliet.

Juli. How now? who calls?

Nurfe. Your Mother.

Juli. Madam I am here, what is your will?

Wife.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Wife. This is the matter. Nurfe give leave a while, we must talke in secret. Nurfe come backe againe, I have remembred me, thou'le heare our counsell. Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurfe. Faith I can tell her age unto an houre.

Wife. Shee's not foureteene.

Nurfe. 'Ile lay fourteene of my teeth, and yet to my teene be it spoken, I have but foure, shee's not foureteene.

How long is it now to Lammas tide?

Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes.

Nurfe. Even or odd, of all daies in the yeer come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she, God rest all Christian soules, were of an age. Well, Susan is with God; she was too good for me. But, as I said, on Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen, then shall shee marry, I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earthquake now eleven yeeres; and she was wean'd, I never shall forget it, of all the dayes in the yeere upon that day: for I had then laid wormewood to my dug, sitting in the Sun under the Dove-house wall: my Lord and you were then at Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But, as I said, when it did tafte the wormewood on the nipple of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty foole to see it teachie, and fall out with the dug: Shake quoth the dove-house, 'twas no need I trow to bid me trudge: and since that time it is eleven yeeres, for then she could stand alone, nay by th' roof shee could have run and waddled all about: for even the day before she broke her brow, and then my husband, God be with his soule, a was a merry man, took up the child, yea, quoth he, sheest thou fall upon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou haft more wit, wilt thou not Jule? and by my holidam the pretty wretch left crying and said, I: to see now how a jeft shall come about. I warrant and I shall live a thousand yeeres I never should forget it: wilt thou not Jule, quoth he? and pretty foole it inted and said, I.

Old La. Enough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace.

Nurfe. Yes Madam, yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to thinke it should leave crying and say, I, & yet I warrant it had on it brow a bump as big as a young cockrels stone, a perillous knock, & it cried bitterly: yea, quoth my husband and I falst upon thy face, thou wilt fall

B 3

back-

The most lamentable Tragedy

backward when thou commest to age, wilt thou not Jule? it flin-
ted and said I.

Juli. And flint thou too, I pray thee Nurse, say I.

Nurse. Peace, I have done: God markes thee to his grace, thou
waſt the prettiest babe that ere I nurſt, and I might live to see
thee married once, I have my wifh.

Old La. Mary that marry is the very Theame
I came to talk of: tell me daughter Juliet,
How stands your dispositions to be married?

Juli. It is an houre that I dreame not of.

Nurse. An houre ! were not Ionyes Nurse, I would say thou
hadst fuckt thy wifh dome from thy teat.

Old La. Well, thinke of Marriage now, younger than you
Here in Verona, Ladies of eſteeme,

Are made already mothers by my count :

I was your mother much upon these yeares

That you are now a maide : thus then in briefe,

The valiant Paris seekes you for his love.

Nurse. A man young Lady, Lady, such a man as all the world,
Why hee's a man of waxe.

Old La. Verona's Summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse. Nay hee's a flower, in faith a very flower.

Old La. What say you? can you love the Gentleman?

This night you shall behold him at our Feaſt,

Read ore the volume of young Paris ſace,

And finde delight writ there with beauties pen,

Examine every feverall lineament,

And see how one another lends content :

And what obſcur'd in this faire Volume lyes,

Finde written in the margent of his eyes.

This precious booke of love, this unbound lover,

To beautify him onely lackes a Cover.

The fifth lives in the ſea, and 'tis much pride,

For faire without the faire within to hide :

That booke in many eyes doth share the glory,

That in gold claspede lockes in the golden ſtory :

So shall you share all that he doth poffeſſe,

By

of Romeo and Juliet.

By having him, making your ſelfe no leſſe.

Nurse. No leſſe, nay bigger women grow by men.

Old La. Speake briefly, can you like of Paris love ?

Juli. I'le looke to like, if looking liking move.

But no more deepe will I endart mine eye,

Than your consent gives ſtrength to make it flye. Enter serving.

Serving. Madam, the gueſts are come, ſupper ſerv'd up, you
calld, my young Lady askt for, the Nurse curſt in the Pantry,
and every thing in extremity: I muſt hence to wait, I beſeech
you follow ſtrait.

Mo. We follow thee: Juliet the Countie ſtayes.

Nurse. Goe girle, seeke happy nights to happy dayes.

Exeunt.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fixe other
Maskers, Torch-bearers.

Rom. What ? shall this ſpeech be ſpoke for our excufe ?
Or shall we on without Apology ?

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity,
We'll have no Cupid hood-winkt with a skarſe,

Bearing a Tartars painted bow of Lath,

Skaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper.

But let them meaſure us by what they will,

Wee'll meaſure them a meaſure and be gone.

Rom. Give me a Torch, I am not for this ambling,
Being but heavie I will beare the light.

Mer. Nay gentle Romeo, we muſt have you dance.

Rom. Not I believe me, you have dancing ſhooes

With nimble ſoles; I have a ſoule of lead

So flakes me to the ground I cannot move.

Mer. You are a Lover, borrow Cupids wings,
And fore with them above a common bound.

Rom. I am too fore enpeared with his ſhaft,
To foare with his light feathers; and so bound,

I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe,

Under loves heavie burthen doe I finke.

Mer. And to finke in it should you burthen love,
Too great oppreſſion for a tender thing.

Romeo,

The most lamentable Tragedy

Rem. Is love a tender thing ? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boisterous, and it prickes like thorne.

Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love,
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love downe.
Give me a cafe to put my village in,
A visor for a visor: what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities,
Here are the beetle-browes shall blush for me.

Ben. Come, knock and enter, and no sooner in,
But every man betake him to his legges.

Rem. A torch for me, let wantons light of heart
Tickle the senfeleſſe ruffes with their heeles,
For I am proverb'd with a graunſire phrase,
'Ille be a candle-holder and looke on,
The game was ne're to faire, and I am dun.

Mer. Tut, duns the mouse the Conſtables owne word;
If thou art dun we'll draw thee from the mire:
Or fave you reverence love, wherein thou flieſtcket
Up to the eares: come we burne day-light ho.

Rem. That's not so.

Mer. I meane fir in delay,
We waſte our lights in vaine, lights lights by day:
Take our good meaning, for our judgement fits,
Five times in that, e're once in our fine wits.

Rem. And we meane well in going to this Mask,
But 'tis no wit to goe.

Mer. Why, may one aske ?

Rem. I dreamt a dreame to night.

Mer. And so did I.

Rem. Well, what was yours ?

Mer. That dreamers often lye.

Rem. In bed aſſleepe while they doe dreame things true.

Mer. O then I see Queene Mab hath been with you:
Shee is the Fairies Midwife, and ſhee comes in shape no bigger
than an Agat ſtone, on the fore-finger of an Alderman, drawne
with a teeme of little atomies, over mens noſes as they lye a-
ſleep, her waggon ſpokes made of long ſpinners legges, the cover
of

of Romeo and Juliet

of the wings of graſhoppers, her traces of the ſmallest ſpiders
web, her collers of the moon-shines watry beames, her whip of
Crickets bone, 'the laſh of Philome, her waggoner a ſmall gray
coated Gnat, not halfe ſo bigge as a round little worme pricct
from the lazie finger of a man, her chariot is an empty Hafelt
nut, made by the Joyner Squirrell or old Grub, time out of mind
the Fairies Coach-makers: and in this ſtate ſhee gallops night
by night through lovers braines, and then they dreame of love :
on Courtiers knees, that dreame on Curſies ſtrait; o're Lawyere
fingers, who ſtrait dreame on ſees; o're Ladies lips, who ſtrait on
killes dreame; which oft the angry Mab with blifters plagues,
becauſe their breath with sweet meates tainted are: sometimes
ſhee gallops o're a Courtiers noſe, and then dreames he of ſmel-
ling out a ſuit; and sometime comes ſhe with a tiche-pigs taile,
tickling a Pations noſe as a lies aſſleepe, then he dreames of an-
other Benefice; sometime ſhee driveth o're a ſouldiers necke,
and then dreames hee of cutting forraigne throats, of breaches,
ambuscadoes, Spaniſh blades, of healths ſive fadome deep,
and then anon drums in his eare, at which hee starts and wakes, and
being thus frighted, ſweares a prayer or two, and ſleepes againe:
this is that very Mab that plats the manes of horses in the night,
and bakes the Elflockes in foule fluttich haires, which once un-
tangled much misfortune bodes.

This is the hag, when maides ly on their backes,
That preſſes them, and learnes them firſt to beare,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is ſhee.

Rem. Peace, peace, Mercutio peace,
Thou talkt of nothing.

Mer. True, I talke of dreames,
Which are the children of an idle braine,
Begot of nothing but vaine phantafie,
Which is as thin of ſubſtance as the ayre,
And more unconſtant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen boſome of the North;
And being angred, puffs away from thence.
Turning his ſide to the dew-dropping South.

C

Ben.

The most lamentable Tragedy

Ben. This wind you talke of blowes us from our selves.
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Rom. I feare too early, for my mind misle-gives,
Some conference yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearfull date.
With this nights revels, and expire the terme.
Of a despised life clos'd in my breath,
By some vile forfeit of untimely death.

But he that hath the teerage of my course,
Direct my fute: on luscious Gentlemen.

Ben. Strike Drum.

They march about the Stage, and Servingmen come
forth with Napkins.

Enter Romeo.

Ser. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away?
He shift a Trencher? he scrape a Trencher?

1. When good manners shall lye all in one or two mens
hands, and they unwaft too, 'tis a foule thing.

Ser. Away with the join-flooles, remove the Court-cupboard,
looke to the plate, good thou save me a piece of March-pane, and
as thou loves mee let the Porter let in Susan Grind-stone, and
Nell, Anthonie and Potpan.

2. I Boy ready.

Ser. You are lookt for and cald for, askt for and fought for in
the great chamber.

3. We cannot be here and there too, clearly boyes.

Be briske a while, and the longer liver take all.

Exeunt.

Enter all the guefts and Gentlem women to,
the Maskers.

1. Cap. Welcome Gentlemen. Ladies that have their toes
Unplagued with Cornes will walke about with you :

Ah my Miftreffes, which of you all

Will now deny to dance ? he that makes daintie,

She 'le swear hath Cornes: am I come neare you now?

Welcome Gentlemen, I have seen the day.

That I have worne a Visor, and could tell

A

of Romeo and Juliet.

A whispering tale in a faire Ladies care,

Such as would please : 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone.

You are welcome Gentlemen : come Mufitians play.

Musique playes, and they dance.

A hall, a hall, give roome, and foot it girles,

More light you Knaves, and turne the tables up,

And quench the fire, the roome is growne too her.

Ah firrah, this unlookt for sport comes well,

Nay fit, nay fit, good cousin Capulet,

For you and I are past our dancing dayes :

How long i'th now since laft your selfe and I

Were in a Make ?

2. Cap. Berlady thirty yeeres.

1. Cap. What man? 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much,
'Tis since the Nuptiall of Lucientie :

Come Pentecost as quickly as it will,

Some five and twenty yeeres, and then we maskt.

2. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more, his fonne is elder fir,
His fonne is thirty.

1. Cap. Will you tell me that?
His fonne was but a Ward two yeeres agoe.

Rem. What Lady is that which doth inrich the band
Of yonder Knight.

Ser. I know not fir.

Rem. O the doth teach the torches to burne bright:
It seemes she hangs upon the cheeke of night,

As a rich jewell in an Æthiops care,

Beauty too rich for ule, for earth too deare :

So fewes a fnowie Dove trooping with Crowes,

As yonder Lady o're her fellowes showes :

The meaure done, 'Ile watch her place of stand,

And touching hers, make bleffed my rude hand.

Did my heart love till now, forswere it fight,

For I ne're saw true beauty till this night.

Tib. This by his voice should be a Mountague.
Fetch me my Rapier boy, what ? dares the slave,

Come hither cover'd with an antique face,

C a

To

The most lamentable Tragedy

To fleere and fcorne at our Solemnity
Now by the flocke and honour of my kind
To strike him dead I hold it not a fin.

Cap. Why how now kinfman ? wherefore fcorne you so ?

Tib. Uncle this is a Mountague our foe.

A villaine that is hither come in fight.

To fcorne at our Solemnity this night.

Cap. Young Romeo, is it ?

Tib. 'Tis he, that villaine Romeo.

Cap. Content thee gentle Coze, let him alone.

A beares him like a portly Gentleman

And to say truth Verona brags of him,

To be a vertuous and well govern'd youth ;

I would not for the wealth of all this Towne.

Here in my house doe him disparagement :

Therefore be patient, take no note of him,

It is my will, the which, if thou respect,

Shew a faire prefence, and put off these frownes.

An ill befeeming semblance for a feast.

Tib. It fits when such a villaine is a guest.

I he not endure him.

Cap. He shall be endured.

What? goodman boy, I say he shall, goe too.

Am I the Mafter here or you? goe too :

You'll not endure him, God shall mend my Soule,

You'll make a mutiny among my guests,

You will let a cocke a hoope, you'll be the man.

Tib. Why Uncle 'tis a fhame.

Cap. Goe too, goe too,

You are a fancy boy : if so indeed ?

This trick may chance to fath you I know what :

You must contrary me, marry, 'tis time,

Well faid my hearts : you are a Princox, goe,
Be quiet, or (more light, more light for fhame)

I'le make you quiet (what) chearely my hearts.

Tib. Patience perforce with wilfull choler meetings,

Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.

I will.

of Romeo and Juliet.

I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall,

Now feeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.

Exit.

Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand,

This holy shrine, the gentle finne is this.

My lips two blushing Pilgrims ready fland,

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiffe.

Jul. Good Pilgrim, you doe wrong your hand too much.

Which mannerly devotion fhowes in this,

For Saints have hands that Pilgrims hands doe touch,

And palme to palme is holy Palmers kiffe.

Rom. Have not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too?

Jul. I Pilgrim, lips that they must lie in Prayer.

Rom. O then deare Saints, let lips doe what hands doe,

They pray, grant thou, left faith turne to despair.

Jul. Saints doe not move, though grant for prayers fize.

Rom. Then move not while my prayers effect I take :

Thus from my lips by thine my finne is purg'd.

Jul. Then have my lips the finne that they have tooke.

Rom. Sin from my lips ! O trefpaffe Tweeely urg'd :

Give me my finne againe.

Jul. You kiffe bith booke,

Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

Rom. What is her mother ?

Nurse. Marrie Batcheler,

Her mother is the Lady of the house.

And a good Lady, and a wife and vertuous :

I nure't her daughter that you talkt withall :

I tell you he that can lay hold of her,

Shall have the chinckes.

Rom. Is she a Capulet ?

O deare account ! my life is my foes debt.

Ben. Away, be gone, the sport is at the beft.

Rom. I, so I feare, the more is my unreft.

Cap. Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone,
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards :

Is it e'en so ? why then I thanke you all,

I thanke you honest Gentlemen, good night.

'More

The most lamentable Tragedy

More torches here, come on, then let's to bed.
Ah, sirrah, by my fay it waxes late,
'Ile to my rest.

Juliet. Come hither, Nurse, what is yond Gentleman?

Nurse. The fonne and heire of old Tyberio.

Jul. What's he that now is going out of the door?

Nurse. Marry that I thinke be young Petrucheto.

Jul. What's he that followes here, that would not dance?

Nurse. I know not.

Jul. Goe aske his name, if he be married,

My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague.

The onely fonne of your great enemy.

Jul. My onely love sprung from my onely hate,

Too early feene unknowne, and knowne too late:

Prodigious birth of love it is to me,

That I must love a loathed enemy.

Nurse. What's tis? what's tis?

Jul. A Ryme I learnt even now

Of one I danc't withall.

One calls within Juliet:

Nurse. Anon, anon:

Come lets away, the strangers all are gone.

Excuse.

Chorus.

Now old desire doth in his death-bed lye,

And young affection gapes to be his heire.

That faire for which love groned and would dye,

With tender Juliet matcht is now not faire.

Now Romeo is belov'd and loves againe,

Alike bewitched by the charme of lookes:

But to his foe suppos'd he must complain,

And the steale loves sweet bait from fearefull hooks.

Being held a foe, he may not have accesse

To breath such vowes as lovers use to sweare:

And the as much in love, her meanes much leſſe,

To meet her new beloved any where.

But

of Romeo and Juliet.

But passion lends them power, time meanes to meet,
Tempring extremities with extreme ſweet.

Enter Romeo alone.

Rom. Can I goe forward when my heart is here,
Turne backe dull earth, and finde thy Center out.

Enter Benvolio with Mercutio.

Ben. Romeo, my Cousin Romeo.

Mer. He is wife, and on my life hath flollen him home to bed.

Ben. He ran this way, and leapt this Orchard wall:

Call good Mercutio.

Mer. Nay I'll conjure too.

Romeo, humours, madam, passion, lover,

Appeare thou in the likenesse of a ſigh,

Speake but one ryme and I am fatiſh'd,

Cry but ay me, pronounce but love and dye,

Speake to my Goſſip Venuſe one faire word,

One nickname to her purblind ſonne and heire

Young Abraham Cupid, he that ſhot to true,

When King Cophetua lov'd the Begger-maid.

He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not,

The Ape is dead, and I muſt conjure him:

I conjure thee by Rosalines bright eyes,

By her high forehead and her skarlet lip,

By her fine foot, straight legge, and quivering thigh,

And the demeanes that there adjacent lye,

That in thy likenesse thou appear to us.

Ben. And if he heare thee thou wilt anger him.

Mer. This cannot anger him, 't would anger him

To raſe a ſpirit in his Miftreſſe circle,

Of ſome ſtrange nature, letting it there stand

Till she had layd it, and conjur'd it downe,

That were ſome ſpight.

My invocation is faire and honest, and in his Miftreſſe name,

I conjure onely but to raſe up him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himselfe among these trees,

To be conſorted with the humorous night:

Blind is his love, and beſt beſits the darke.

Mer.

The most lamentable Tragedy

Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark:
Now will he fit under a Medlar tree,
And with his miftresse were that kinde of fruit,
As maides call Medlars when they laugh alone,
O Romeo that she were, O that she were
An open and catera, and thou a Poperin pear.
Romeo good night, I'le to my Truckle-bed,
This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:
Come, shall we goe?

Ben. Goethen, for'tis in vaine to seeke him here.
That meanes not to be found.

Rom. He jefts at scarres that never felt a wound:
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the Eaft, and Juliet is the Sunne:
Arise faire funne, and kill the envious moone,
Who is already fickle and pale with griefe,
That thou her maide art farre more faire than she:

Be not her maide since she is envious,
Her veftall livery is but fickle and greene,
And none but fooles doe weare it, caft it off:

It is my Lady, O it is my love, O that she knew she were

She speaks, yet she fayes nothing; what of that?

Her eye difcourſes, I will anſwere it:

I am too bold, tis not to me she speaks :

Two of the faireft ſtarrres in all the heavens,

Having ſome buſineſſe, doe entreat her eyes.

To twinkle in their ſpheares till they returne :

What if her eyes were there, they in her head,

The brightneſſe of her cheeke would ſhame those ſtars,

As day-light doth a lampe; her eye in heaven,

Would through the ayrie region ſtreame so bright,

That birds would ſing, and thinke it were not night.

See how she leanes her cheekee upon her hand,

O that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheeke.

Jul. Ay me.

Rom. She speaks.

Oh

of Romeo and Juliet.

Oh speake againe bright Angell, for thow art

As glorious to this night being o're my head,

As is a winged meſſenger of heaven

Unto the white up-turned, wondring eyes

Of mortals that fall backe to gaze on him,

When he beſtrides the lazie puffing clouds,

And ſailes upon the boſome of the Aire.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father, and refuse thy name:

Or if thou wilt not, be but ſworne my love,

And ’Ile no longer be a Capulet.

Rome. Shall I heare more ? or shall I speake at this?

Jul. ’Tis but thy name that is my enemy :

Thou art thy ſelfe, though not a Mountague.

What’s Mountague? it is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arme, nor face. O be some other name

Belonging to a man.

What’s in a name ? That which we call a Rose,

By any other word would ſmell as sweet:

So Romeo would were he not Romeo call’d,

Retaine that deare perſection which he owes,

Without that title: Romeo d’off thy name,

And for thy name, which is no part of thee,

Take all my ſelfe.

Rom. I take thee at thy word:
Call me but Love, and’Ile be new baptiz’d,

Hence-forth I never will be Romeo.

Jul. What man art thou, that thus beſcreen’d in night
So flumbleſt on my counſell?

Ro. By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am:

My name deare Saint is hatefull to my ſelfe,

Because it is an enemy to thee:

Had I it written, I would teare the word.

Jul. My eares have yet not drunke a hundred words
Of thy tongues uttering; yet I know the found:

Art thou not Romeo, and a Mountague?

Rom. Neither faire maide, if either thee diſlike.

D

Jul.

The most lamentable Tragedy

JUL. How can't thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
The Orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
And the place death, confidering who thou art,
If any of my kinfmen finde thee here.

ROM. With loves light wings did I ore-perch these walls,
For flony limits cannot hold love out;
And what love can doe, that dares love attempt :
Therefore thy kinfmen are no stop to me.

JUL. If they doe see thee they will murther thee.

ROM. Alack, there lies more perill in thine eye,
Than twenty of their swords: looke thou but sweet,
And I am proofe against their enmity.

JUL. I would not for the world they saw thee here.

ROM. I have nights cloak to hide me from their eyes,
And but thou love me let them finde me here;
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogued wanting of thy love.

JUL. By whose direction foundt thou out this place?

ROM. By love that firſt did promp me to enquire,
He lent me counſell, and I lent him eyes.
I am no Pilot, yet wert thou as farre
As that vaſt shore washt with the farthest fea,
I should adventure for such merchandise.

JUL. Thou know't the maske of night is on my face,
Elle would a maiden blush bepaint my cheeke,
For that which thou haſt heard me speake to night,
Faine would I dwell on forme, faire, faire deny

What I have spoke ; but farewell complements:
Doeſt thou love me ? I know thou wilt ſay I.

And I will take thy word ; yet if thou ſwear't,

Thou maſt prove falſe: at lovers perjuries

They ſay Jove laughes. Oh gentle Romeo,

If thou doſt love, pronounce it faithfully :

Or if thou think'st I am too quickly wonne,

Ile frowne and be perverſe, and ſay thee nay.

So thou wilt wooe, but eſſe not for the world.

In truth faire Mountague I am too ſond,

And

of Romeo and Juliet

And therefore thou maſt thinke my behaviour light

But truſt me Gentleman. I'le prove more true,

Than thoſe that have more coying to be ſtrange :
I should have beene more ſtrange, I muſt confefſe.

But that thou overheardſt ere I was ware.

My true loves paſſion, therefore pardon me,

And not impute this yeelding to light love,

Which the darkenight hath toſ discovered.

ROM. Lady, by yonder bleſſed moone I vow,
That tips with filer all these fruit tree tops.

JUL. O ſweare not by the moone, th'inconſtant moone.

That monthly changes in her circled orbe,

Left that thy love prove likewiſe variable.

ROM. What shall I ſweare by?

JUL. Doe not ſweare at all:

Or if thou wilt, I ſweare by thy gracious ſelfe,

Which is the god of my idolatry,

And I'le beleeve thee.

ROM. If my hearts deare love.

JUL. Well, doe not ſweare, although I joy in'thee,
I have no joy of this contract to night,

It is too rafh, too unadvis'd, too ſudden,

Too like the lightning, which doth ceafe to be

Ere one can ſay it lightens: ſweet good night:

This bud of love by summers ripening breath,

May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet:

Goodnight, goodnight, as ſweet repofe and reſt,

Come to thy heart as that within my breast.

ROM. O wilt thou leave me ſo unsatisfied?

JUL. What ſatisfaction can't thou have to night?

Re, Th'exchange of thy loves faithfull vow for mine.

JUL. I gave thee mine before thou didſt requeſt it,
And yet I would it were to give againe.

ROM. Would't thou withdraw it? for what purpose love?

JUL. But to be franke and give it thee again,

And yet I wifh but for the thing I have.

My bounty is as boundleſſe as the ſea,

D 2

My

The most lamentable Tragedy

My love as deep, the more I give to thee
The more I have, for both are infinite:
I heare some noise within, deare Love adue:
Anon good Nurse, sweet Mountague be true:
Stay but a little, I will come againe.

Rom. O bleffed, bleffed night, I am afeard
Being in night, all this is but a dreame,
Too flattering sweet to be subtiliaff.

Jul. Three words deare Romeo, and good night indeed.
If that thy bent of love be honourable,
Thy purpose Marriage, tend me word to morrow,
By one that I'le procure to come to thee,
Where and what time thou wilt performe the rites,
And all my fortunes at thy foot Ile lay,
And follow thee my Love throughout the world.
Madam.
I come anon: but if thou meanst not well,
I doe befeech thee (by and by I come)
Toceafe thy suit, and leave me to my griefe,
To morrow will I send.

Rom. So thrive my sonne.

Jul. A thousand times good-night.

Rom. A thousand times the worse to want thy fight.
Love goes toward love as Schoole-boyes from their bookes,
But love from love toward Schoole with heavy lookses.

Enter Juliet againe.

Jul. Hift Romeo, hift: O for a Falkner's voice,
To lure this Taffet gentle backe againe:
Bondage is hoarſe, and may not ſpeake aloud,
Elle would I teare the cave where Echo lyes,
And make her ayrie tongue more hoarle than mine,
With repetition of my Romeo.

Rom. It is my love that calls upon my name:
How ſilver sweet found Lovers tongues by night?
Like softest Musick to attending eares.

Jul. Romeo.

Rom. My Deere.

Jul. What a clocke to morrow

Shall

of Romeo and Juliet.

Shall I ſend to thee ?

Rom. By the houre of nine.

Jul. I will not faile, 'tis twentie yeeres till then:
I have forgot why I did call thee backe.

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.

Jul. I shall forget to have thee still stand there,
Remembring how I love thy company.

Rom. And 'tis still ſtay, to have thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this.

Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone,
And yet no farther than a wantons bird,
That lets it hop a little from his hand,
Like a poore prisoner in his twitted gyves,
And with a filken thred plucks it backe againe,
So loving jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would I were thy bird.

Jul. Sweet so would I,
Yet I should kill thee with much cheriſhing:
Good night, good night,
Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall ſay good night till it be morrow.

Ro. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast.
Would I were sleepe and peace so sweet to reſt.

Hence will I to my ghastly Friers close Cell,
His helpe to crave, and my deere hap to tell.

Exit.

Enter Frier alone with a Basket.

Fri. The grey ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night,
Checkring the Eastern clouds with streakes of light:
And fleckeld darkneſſe like a drunkard reeles,
From forth dayes path, and *Titans* burning wheeles,
Now ere the ſunne advance his burning eye,
The day to cheere, and nights danke dew to dry,
I muſt upfill this Oſier Cage of ours,
With balefull weeds, and precious juiced flowers.
The earth that natures mother in her Tombe ;
What is her burying Grave, that is her wombe :

And

The most lamentable Tragedy

And from her wombe children of divers kind
We fucking on her naturall boſome find:
Many for many vertues excellent,
None but for lome, and yet all different.
O mickle is the powerfull grace that lies
In plants, hearbs, ſtones, and their true qualities:
For nought ſo vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth ſome ſpeciall good doth give:
Nor ought ſo good, but ſtrain'd from that faire use,
Revolts from true birth, flumbling on abuse.
Vertue it ſelfe turnes vice being miſ-appli'd,
And vice ſometime by action dignifi'd.

Enter Romeo.

Within the infant rinde of this weake flower
Poyſon hath reſidence, and Medicine power :
For this being ſmelt with that part, cheares each part;
Being taſted ſlayes all ſenses with the heart.
Two ſuch oppoſed Kings encamp them ſtill
In man as well as hearbs, grace and rude will ;
And where the worſer is predominant,
Full ſoone the Canker death eates up that plant.

Rom. Good morrow father.

Fri. Benedicite:

What early tongue so sweet faluteth me?
Young ſonne it argues a diſtemper'd head,
So ſoone to bid good morrow to thy bed :
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges ſleepe will never lye :
But where unbruſed youth with unſtuſt braine,
Doth couch his limbes, there golden ſleep doth reign,
Therefore thy earlineſſe doth me allſure,
Thou art uprons'd with ſome diſtemp'rature :
Or if not so, then here I hit it right,
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to night.

Rom. That laſt is true, the ſweeter reſt was mine.

Fri. God pardon ſin, waſt thou with Rofaline?

Rom. With Rofaline, my ghastly father, no,

of Romeo and Juliet.

I have forgot that name, and that names woe.

Fri. That's my good ſonne, but where haſt thou been then?

Rom. I'le tell thee ere thou aske it me agen:

I have been feaſting with mine enemy,
Where on a ſudden one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded; both our remedies
Within thy helpe and holy Phyſicke lyes :
I beare no hatred bleſſed man, for loe,
My intercession likewife freads my ſoe.

Fri. Be plaine good ſonne and homely in thy drift,
Ridling conſeption findes but ridling thrift.

Rom. Then plainly know my hearts deare love is ſet
On the faire daughter of rich Capulets :
As mine on hers, to hers is ſet on mine,
And all combin'd, ſave what thou muſt combine
By holy marriage: when, and where, and how,
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
I'le tell thee as we paffe: but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us to day.

Fri. Holy S. Francis, what a change is here!
Is Rofaline, whom thou didſt love ſo deare,
So ſoone forſaken? young mens love then lyes
Not truely in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jefu Maria! what a deale of brine!
Hath waſht thy ſallow cheekes for Rofaline?
How much ſalt water throwne away in waſte,
To ſeason love that of it doth not tafe?
The ſun not yet thy ſighes from heaven cleares,
Thy old groanes yet ring in mine ancient eares;
Lo here upon thy cheeke the ſtaine doth fit,
Of an old teare that is not waſht off yet.
If ere thou waſt thy ſelfe, and theſe woes thine,
Thou and theſe woes were all for Rofaline.
And art thou chang'd? pronounce this ſentence then
Women may fall, when there's no ſtrength in men.

Rom. Thou chid't me oft for loving Rofaline.

Fri. For doating, not for loving, Pupill mine.

Romeo

The moſt lamentable Tragedy

Rom. And badſt me bury love.

Fri. Not in a grave,

To lay one in, another out to have.

Rom. I pray thee chide me not, her I love now
Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow:
The other did not to.

Fri. O she knew well,

Thy love did read by rote that could not ſpell:
But come young Waverer, come and goe with me,

In one respect I lie thy affiſtant be:
For this alliance may ſo happy prove,

To turne your households rancor to pure love.

Rom. O let us hence, I ſtand on sudden haſte.

Fri. Wisely and flow, they flumble that run faſt.

Exeunt.

Enter Benvolio and Mercutio.

Mer. Where the Dev'll should this Romeo be ? came he not
home to night ?

Ben. Not to his fathers, I ſpoke with his man.

Mer. Why that fame pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline
Torments him ſo, that he will ſure run mad.

Ben. Tibalt, the Kinſman to old Capulet, hath ſent a letter to
his fathers houſe.

Mer. A challenge on my life.

Ben. Romeo will anſwer it.

Mer. Any man that can write may anſwere a Letter.

Ben. Nay he will anſwere the Letters Maſter, how hee dares,
being dared.

Mer. Alas poore Romeo, hee is already dead, ſtab'd with a
white wenches blacke eye, runne through the eare with a Love-
ſong, the very pinne of his heart cleft with the blinde Bow-boies
but-ſhaft: and is he a man to encounter Tibalt ?

Rom. Why ? what is Tibalt ?

Mer. More than Prince of Cats : O hee's the courageous
Captaine of Complements : hee fights as you ſing Pricke-long,
keepes time, diſtance, and proportion; he reſts his minum reſts,
one, two, and the third in your boſome : the very Butcher of a
ſilke

of Romeo and Juliet.

ſilke button, a Dualiſt, a Dualiſt, a Gentleman of the very firſt
houſe, of the firſt and ſecond cauſe, ah the immortall Paſſado, the
punto reverſo, the Hay.

Ben. The what ?

Mer. The Poxe of ſuch antique lisping affeſting phantaſies,
ſeſe new tuners of accents: by Jefu a very good blade, a very
tall man, a very good Whore. Why is not this a lamentable
thing Grand-fire, that wee ſhould be thus affiſtied with theſe
ſtrange flies, theſe ſashion-mongers, theſe pardona-mees, who
ſtand ſo much on the new forme, that they cannot ſit at cafe on
the old bench ? O their bones, their bones !

Enter Romeo.

Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mer. Without his Roe, like a dri'd Herring: O fleſh, fleſh,
how art thou ſiſhified ? Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch
flowed in. Laura to his Lady was a Kitchin wench, marrie he
had a better love to berime her; Dido a dowdie, Cleopatra a
Gipſe, Helen and Hero hildings and barlots, Thiby a grey
eye or ſo, but not to the purpofe. Seignior Romeo Bon jour, there's
a French ſalutation to your French ſlop: you gave us the coun-
terfeit fairely laſt night.

Rom. Good morrow to you both, what counterfeit did I give
you ?

Mer. The flip fir, the flip, can you not conceive ?

Romeo. Pardon good Mercutio, my buſineſſe was great, and
in ſuch a caſe as mine a man may ſtraine curteſie.

Mer. That's as much as to ſay, ſuch a caſe as yours conſtraines
a man to bow in the hams.

Rom. Meaning to curſie.

Mer. Thou haſt moſt kindly hit it.

Rom. A moſt curteous expofition.

Mer. Nay, I am the very pincke of curteſie.

Rom. Pincke for flower.

Mer. Right.

Rom. Why then is my pump well flowred.

Mercu. Sure wit, follow mee this jeſt now till thou haſt
worne out thy pumpe, that when the ſingle ſole of it is worne,

E

the

the jeft may remaine after the wearing foly singular.

Rom. O single fol'd jeft, foly singular for the singlenesse.

Mer. Come between us good Benvolio, my wits faint.

Rom. Swits and spurs, wits and spurs, or Ile cry a match.

Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goofe chafe, I am done:
for thou haft more of the wilde goofe in one of thy wits, than
I am sure I have in my whole five. Was I with you there for
the goofe?

Rom. Thou waft never with me for any thing, when thou waft
not there for the goofe.

Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jeft.

Rom. Nay good goofe bite not.

Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting, it is a most sharp sauce.

Rom. And is it not well served into a sweet goofe?

Mer. Oh here's a wir of Cheverell, that stretches from an
inch narrow to an ell-broad.

Rom. I stretch it out for that word broad, which added to the
goofe, proves thee farre and wide a broad goofe.

Mer. Why is not this better now than groaning for love?
now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo, now art thou what
thou art by art as well as by nature: for this diveling love is
like a great Naturall, that runs lolling up and downe to hide
his bable in a hole.

Ben. Stop there, stop there.

Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the haire.

Ben. Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

Mer. O thou art deceived, I would have made it short, for I
was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to
occupy the argument no longer.

Rom. Here's goodly geare.

Enter Nurse and her man.

A faile, a faile.

Mer. Two, two, a shirt and a smocke.

Nurse. Peter.

Peter. Anon.

Nurf. My fan Peter.

Mer. Good Peter to hide her face, for her fans the fairer face.

Nurse. God ye good morrow Gentlemen,

Mer.

## of Romeo and Juliet

Mer. God ye goodden faire Gentlewoman.

Nurse. Is it goodden?

Mer. 'Tis no leffe I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the dyall
is now upon the pricke of noone.

Nurse. Out upon you, what a man are you?

Ro. One Gentlewoman that God hath made, himselfe to mar.

Nurse. By my troth it is well faid, for himselfe to marre
quoth a! Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may finde
the young Romeo?

Rom. I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older when you
have found him, than hee was when you fought him: I am the
youngest of that name, for fault of a worfe.

Nurse. You lay well.

Mer. Yea, is the worst well? very well tooke ifaith, wifely,
wifely.

Nurse. If thou be he fir, I desire some confidence with you.

Ben. She will endite him to some fupper.

Mer. A baud, a band, a baud. So ho.

Rom. What haft thou found?

Mer. No hare fir, unleffe a hare fir in a Lenten pie, that is
something ftale and hoare ere it be spent.

An old hare hoare, and an old hare hoare is very good meat
in Lent.

But a hare that is hoare is too much for a score, when it hoares
ere it be spent.

Romeo, will you come to your fathers? wee'll to dinner thither.

Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewell ancient Lady, farewell Lady, Lady, Lady.

Exeunt.

Nur. I pray you fir what faucie Merchant was this that was
so full of his roperie.

Re. A Gentleman Nurse that loves to heare himselfe talk, and
will ſpeake more in a minute than he will stand to in a moneth.

Nur. And a ſpeake any thing against me, I'le take him down,
and a were luftier than hee is, and twenty ſuch Jackes: and if I
cannot, I'le finde that ſhall: ſcurvie Knave, I am none
of her Gil-flurts, I am none of his skaines mates: and thou muſt

E 2

stand

The most lamentable Tragedy

stand by too, and suffer every Knave to use mee at his pleasure.

Pet. I saw no man use you at his pleasure, if I had, my weapon should quickly have beene out: I warrant you I dare draw, as loone as another man, if I see occasion, in a good quarrell, and the law on my side.

Nurse. Now afore God I am so vext, that every part about mee quivers: scurvie Knave: pray you fir a word: and as I told you, my young Lady bid me enquire you out: what she bid mee say, I will keepe to my selfe: but first let me tell ye, if yee should leade her in a Fooles Paradise, as they say, it were a very grosse kinde of behaviour, as they say: for the Gentlewoman is young, and therefore if you should deale double with her, truely it were an ill thing to be offered to any Gentlewoman, and very weake dealing.

Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy Lady and Miftris, I protest unto thee.

Nurse. Good heart, and yfaith I will tell her as much: Lord, Lord, she will be a joyfull woman.

Romeo. What wilt thou tell her Nurse? thou does not marke mee.

Nur. I will tell her fir that you doe proteft, which as I take it, is a Gentlemanlike offer.

Romeo. Bid her devise some meanes to come to thrift this afternoon,
And there she shall at Frier Laurence Cell

Be thrived and married: here is for thy paines.

Nurse. No truly fir not a pennie.

Rom. Goe too, I say you shall.

Nurse. This afternoone fir, well, she shall be there.

Rom. And flay good Nurse behind the Abbey wall:
Within this hour, my man shall be with thee,

And bring thee cords made like a tackling ftaire,

Which to the high top-gallant of my joy,

Must be my convoy in the secret night.

Farewell, be trutly, and Ile quite thy paines.

Farewell, commend me to thy Miftris.

Nurse.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Nurse. Now God in Heaven blesse thee: harke you fir.

Rom. What laift thou my deare Nurse?

Nurse. Is your man secret? did you ne're here say, two may keepe counfell putting one away?

Rom. Warrant thee my mans as true as fleele.

Nurse. We'll fir, my Miftresse, is the sweetest Lady: Lord, Lord, when twas a little prating thing. O there is a Nobleman in Towne, one Paris, that would fairenay Knife aboard, but the good foule had as lieve see a Toade, a very Toade as see him: I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man: but I warrant you when Hay to thee, looks as pale as any clout in the verfall world. Doth not Rosemary and Romeo begin both with a Letter?

Rom. I Nurse, what of that? Both with an R.

Nur. A mocker, that's the dogges name, R, is for the no. I know it begins with some other letter, and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and Rosemary, that it would doe you good to heare it.

Rom. Commend me to thy Lody.

Nurse. I a thousand times, Peter.

Pet. Anon.

Nurs. Before and apace.

Exit.

Enter Juliet.

Ju. The clock strook nine when I did send the Nurse.
In half an hour she promis'd to returne:

Perchance she cannot meet him; that's not so:

Oh she is lame, loves Heralds should be thoughts,

Which ten times faster glides than the suns beames,

Driving backe shadows over lowring hills:

Therefore doe nimble pinion'd Doves draw love,

And therefore bath the winde-swift Cupid wings.

Now is the funne upon the highmost hill.

Of this dayes journey, and from nine till twelve

Is three long hours, yet this is not come:

Had the affections and warme youthfull blood,

She would be as swift in motion as a ball.

My

The most lamentable Tragedy

My words would bandy her to my sweet Love,
And his to me, but old folkes many faire as they were dead,
Unweildy, flow, heavie, and pale as lead.

Enter Nurse.

O God she comes: O honey, Nurse, what newes?
Haft thou met with him? send thy man away.

Nurse. Peter stay at the gate.

Jul. Now good sweet Nurse, O Lord why look it thou fad?
Though newes be fad, yet tell them merrily.
If good, thou Sham it the Musick of fweer newes,
By playing it to me with so fewre a face.

Nurse. I am weary, give me leave a while,
Fye how my bones ake, what a jaunt have I had?

Jul. I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy newes:
Nay come, I pray thee fpeake, good, good Nurse fpeake.
Nurse. Jefu what haſſe can you not ſtay a while?
Doe you not fee that I am out of breath?

Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou haſt breath
To ſay to me that thou art out of breath?
The excufe that thou doſt make in this delay,
Is longer than the tale thou doſt excufe.
Is thy newes good or bad? anſwere to that,
Say either, and I'le ſtay the circumſtance,
Let me be ſatísſid, if it good or bad?

Nurse. Well, you have made a ſimple choice, you know not
how to choose a man: Romeo, no not he, though his face be bet-
ter than any mans, yet his legge excels all mens, and for a hand
and a foot and body, though they be not to be talkt on, yet they
are paſt compare: hee is not the flower of curteſe, but Ile war-
rant him as gentle as a Lambe: goe thy waies wench, ſerve God.
What have you din'd at home?

Jul. No, no, but all this did I know before,
What ſayes he of our marriage? what of that?
Nur. Lord how my head akes, what a head have I?
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My backe a tother ſide, ah my backe, my backe,
Beſhrew your heart for ſending me about,

To

of Romeo and Juliet.

To catch my death with jaunting up and downe.

Jul. Iſaith I am forry that thou art not well:
Sweet, sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me what fairest my Love?

Nur. Your love ſayes like an honest Gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kinde, and a handsome,
And I warrant a vertuous: where is your mother?

Jul. Where is my mother? why she is within, where should
she be?

How odly thou replicſt,
Your Love ſayes like an honest Gentleman.

Where is your Mother?

Nurse. O Gods Lady deare,
Are you so hot? marry come up I trow,
Is this the poulſtis for my aking bones?

Hence-forward doe your meſtages your ſelſe.

Jul. Here's ſuch a coile, come what fairest, Romeo?

Nur. Have you got leave to goe to ſhirt to day?

Jul. I have.

Nur. Then hie you hence to Frier Laurence Cell,
There ſayes a husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the want on blood up in your cheekes,
They'll be in ſcarlet straight at any newes:
Hie you to Church, I muſt another way.
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Muſt climbbe a birds neſt ſoone when it is darke,
I am the drudge, and toile in your delight,
But you ſhall beare the burden ſoone at night.
Goe, Ile to dinner, hie you to the Cell.

Jul. Hie to high ſortune, honest Nurse farewell.

Exeunt.

Enter, Frier and Romeo.

Fri. So ſmile the heavens upon this holy Act,
That after hours with ſorrow chide us not.

Rom. Amen, Amen: but come, what ſorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy.
That one short minute gives me in her light:
Doe thou but close our hands with holy words,

Then

The most lamentable Tragedy

Then love-devouring death does what he dare,

It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,

And in their triumph dye, like fire and powder,

Which as they kiffle contume. The sweetest honey

Is lothomneffe in his owne delicie, and

Therefore love moderately, long love doth so,

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the Lady, Oh so light a foot

Will never weare out the everlasting flit.

A Lover may bestride the Gooflamours,

That idles in the wanton Summer. Ayre,

And yet not fall, so light is vanity.

Fri. Good even to my ghostly Confessor.

Fri. Romeo shall thank thee daughter for us both.

Fri. As much to him, else in his thanks too much.

Fri. Ah Juliet, if the measure of thy joy

Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more

Toblazon it, then sweeten with thy breath

This neighbour ayre, and let rich Musickes tongue,

Unfold the imagin'd happinesse that both

Receive in either by this deare encounter.

Fri. Conceit more rich in matter than in words,

Brags of his subftance, not of ornament;

They are but beggars, that can count their worth,

But my true love is growne to such exceffe,

I cannot fumme up some of halfe my wealth.

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short worke,

For by your leaves you shall not stay alone,

Till holy Church incorporate two in one.

Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and men.

Ben. I pray thee good Mercutio let's retire.

The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,

And if wee meet we shall not escape a braule, for now these hot
dayes is the mad blood stirring.

Mer.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Mer. Thou art like one of these fellowes, that when hee enters the confines of a Taverne, claps mee his sword upon the Table, and fayes, God fend me no need of thee: and by the operation of the second cup drawes him on the Drawer, when indeed there is no need.

Ben. Am I like such a fellow?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jacke in thy mood as
any in Italy, and as loose moved to bee moodie, and as loose
moodie to be moved.

Ben. And what too?

Mer. Nay, and there were two such, wee should have none
shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou ! why thou wilt
quarrell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire leſſe in
his beard than thou haſt : thou wilt quarrell with a man for
cracking Nuts, having no other realion, but becauſe thou haſt
haſſell eyes : what eye but such an eye would ſpie out such a
quarrell ? thy head is as full of quarrels as an egge is full of meat,
and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egge for quar-
relling: thou haſt quarrelled with a man for coſſing in the street,
becauſe he haſt wakened thy dogge that hath laine aſleep in the
Sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor, for wearing his new
doublet before Eaſter : with another, for tying his new ſhooes
with old ribband ? and yet thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling.

Ben. And I were so apt to quarrell as thou art, any man should
buy the fee-fimple of my life for an houre and a quarter.

Mer. The fee-fimple, O ſimple !

Enter Tibalt, Petruchio, and others.

Ben. By my head here come the Capulets.

Mer. By my heele I care not.

Tib. Follow me close, for I will ſpeake to them.
Gentlemen Good-den, a word with one of you.

Mer. And but one word with one of us? couple it with some-
thing, make it a word and a blow.

Tib. You shall finde me apt enough to that fir, and you shall give me occasion.

Mercutio. Could you not take some occasion without gi-
ving?

F

Tib.

The most lamentable Tragedy

Tib. Mercutio: thou comfortest with Romeo.

Mer. Comfort! What does't thou make us Minfrels? And thou make Minfrels of us, looke to heare nothing but difcords; here's my Fiddle-flicke, here's that shall make you dance:ounds comfort.

Ben. We talke here in the publike haunt of men,
Either withdraw unto some private place,
Or reafon coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart, here all eyes gaze on us.

Mer. Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze,
I will not budge for no mans pleafure I.

Enter Romeo.

Ti. Well, peace be with you fir, here comes my man.

Mer. But Ile be hang'd fir if he weare your Livery:
Marry goe before to field, hee'll be your follower,
Your worhip in that ſene may call him man.

Tib. Romeo, the love I beare thee, can affoord
No better tearme than this: thou art a Villaine.

Rom. Tibalt the reafon that I have to love thee,
Doth much excufe the appertaining rage
To such a greeting: Villaine I am none,
Therefore farewell, I fee thou know'ft me not.

Tib. Boy, this shall not excufe the injuries
That thou haſt done me, therefore turne and draw.

Rom. I doe protest I never injur'd thee,
But love thee better than thou canſt devife,
Till thou ſhalt know the reaſon of my love :

And so good Capulet, which name I tender
As dearely as my owne, be ſatisfied.

Mer. O calme diſhonourable, vile ſubmission,

Alla ſtucatho carries it away.

Tibalt, your rat-catcher, will you walke?

Tib. What wouldst thou have with me?

Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine
lives, that I meane to make bold withall, and as you ſhall
nſe mee hereafter dry beate the reſt of the eight. Will you
plucke your ſword out of his Pilcher by the eares? make haſte,
left

of Romeo and Juliet:

left mine be about your eares e're it be out.

Tib. I am for you.

Rom. Gentle Mercutio put thy Rapier up.

Mer. Come fir, your Paſado.

Re. Draw Benvolio, bear downe their weapons:
Gentlemen for ſhame forbeare this outrage.

Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince expreſſely hath

Forbid bandying in Verona's streets:

Hold Tibalt, good Mercutio.

Away Tibalt.

Mer. I am hurt :

A plague a both houſes, I am ſped;

Is he gone and hath nothing?

Ben. What art thou hurt?

Mer. I, I, a ſcratch, a ſcratch, marry 'tis enough:
Where is my Page ? goe villaine fetch a Surgeon.

Rom. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much.

Mer. No, 'tis not so deepe as a Well, nor so wide as a Church
doore, but 'tis enough, 'twill ſerve, aske for mee to morrow and
you shall finde mee a grave man. I am peppered I warrant for
this world, a plague a both your houſes : 'zounds a dogge, a rat,
a mouſe, a cat to ſcratch a man to death; a braggart, a rogue, a vil-
laine, that fights by the booke of Arithmeticke: why the dev'll
came you betweene us ? I was hurt under your arme.

Rom. I thought all for the heſt.

Mer. Helpe me into some houſe Benvolio,
Or I shall faint: a plague a both your houſes,
They have made wormes meat of me.

I have it, and foundly to your houſes.

Exit.

Rom. This Gentleman, the Princes neere ally,
My very friend, hath got his mortall hurt

In my behalfe, my reputation ſtain'd.

With Tibalts flaunder, Tibalt that an houre

Hath beene my couſin. O sweet Juliet,

Thy beauty hath made me effeminate;

And in my temper ſoftned valours ſteele.

F 2

Enter

The most lamentable Tragedy

Enter Benvolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead,
That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorne the earth.
Rom. This dayes blacke fate on more daies doth depend,
This but begins the woe others muft end:

Ben. Here comes the furious Tibalt back again.

Rom. He gone in triumph, and Mercutio flaine,
Away to heaven respective lenity.

And fire and fury be my conduct now.

Now Tibalt take the villaine backe againe.

That late thou gav'st me, for Mercutio's sonne.

Is but a little way above our heads,

Staying for thine to keepe him company :

Either thou or I, or both, muft goe with him.

Tib. Thou, wretched boy, that didst confort him here,

Shalt with him hence.

Rom. This shall determine that.

They fight. Tibalt falls.

Ben. Romeo, away, be gone.

The Citizens are up, and Tibalt flaine :

Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will doom thee death,

If thou art taken : hence, be gone, away.

Rom. O I am fortunes foole.

Ben. Why doft thou flay ?

Exit Romeo.

Enter Citizens.

Cit. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio ?

Tibalt that murderer, which way ran he ?

Ben. There lyes that Tibalt.

Cit. Up fir, goe with me,

I charge thee in the Princes name obey.

Enter Prince, old Mountague, Capulet,
their wives and all.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray ?

Ben. O noble Prince, I can discover all

The unluckie mannage of this fatall brall.

There

of Romeo and Juliet.

There lyes the man flaine by young Romeo,
That flew thy kinsman brave Mercutio.

Cap. Wi. Tibalt my couſin, O my brothers childe,
O Prince, O couſin, husband, O the blood is spild,
Of my deare kinsman : Prince, as thou art true,
For blood of ours ſhed blood of Mountague.

O couſin, couſin:

Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?

Ben. Tibalt here flain, whom Romeo's hand did flay,

Romeo that spoke him faire, bad him bethinke
How nice the quarrell was, and urg'd with all

Your high displeasure : all this uttered

With gentle breath, calme look, knees humbly bowed,
Could not take truce with the unruly ſpleene
Of Tibalt deafe to peace, but that he tilts

With piercing ſteele at bold Mercutio's breast :

Who all as hot, turnes deadly point to point,

And with a martiall ſcorne with one hand beats

Cold death alide, and with the other ſend s

It backe to Tibalt, whose dexterity

Retorts it : Romeo he cryes aloud,

Hold friends, friends part ; and twifter than his tongue

His agill arme beats downe their fatall points,

And 'twixt them rufhes : underneath whose arme,

An envious thrauft from Tibalt hit the life

Of ſtout Mercutio, and then Tibalt fled :

But by and by comes backe to Romeo,

Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,

And too't they goe like lightning : for ere I

Could draw to part them was ſtout Tibalt flaine,

And as he fell did Romeo turne and flie,

This is the truth, or let Benvolio dye.

Cap. Wi. He is a kinsman to the Mountagues,
Affection makes him falſe, he ſpeakes not true :
Some twenty of them fought in this blacke ſtrife,
And all that ſoone could but kill one life.

I begge for justice, which thou Prince muſt give,

F 3

Romeo

The "most lamentable Tragedy

Romeo flew Tibalt, Romeo must not live.

Prin. Romeo flew him, he flew Mercutio,
Who now the price of his deare blood doth owe?
Mou. Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercurio's friend,
His fault concludes but what the law should end,
The life of Tibalt.

Prin. And for that offence
Immediately we doe exile him hence.
I have an intereſt in your hearts proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawles doth lye a bleeding.
But Ile amerce you with ſo ſtrong a fine,
That you ſhall all repent the lobe of mine.
I will be deafe to pleading and excufes,
Nor teares, nor prayers ſhall purchase out abufes.
Therefore uſe none , let Romeo hence in haſte,
Elſe when he is found, that houre is the laſt.
Beare hence this body, and attend our will,
Mercy but murders pardoning thoſe that kill.

Exit.

Enter Juliet alone.
Gallop apace, you fiery footed steeds,
Towards Phæbus lodging, ſuch a waggoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the West,
And bring in slowy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain love-performing night,
That run-awayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo
Leape to theſe armes, untalkt of and unſeene :
Lovers can fee to doe their amorous rights,
By their owne beauties, or of love too blind,
It beſt agrees with night: come civill night,
Thou ſober ſuited matron all in blacke,
And learne me how to lobe a winning match,
Plai'd for a paire of ſtainleſſe maiden-heads :
Hood my unman'd blood baiting in my cheekes,
With thy blacke mantle: till ſtrange love grow bold,
Thinke true love acted simple modeſtly:
Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night,

For

of Romeo and Juliet.

For thou wilt lye upon the wings of night,
Whiter than ſnow upon a Ravens backe:
Come gentle night, come loving black-brow'd night,
Give me my Romeo, and when he ſhall dye,
Take him and cut him out in little Starres,
And he will make the face of heaven ſo fine,
That all the world ſhall be in love with night,
And pay no worſhip to the garilh ſunne.
O I have bought the manſion of a love,
But not poſſeſt it, and though I am ſold,
Not yet injoy'd; ſo tedious is this day,
As is the night before ſome ſeſtivall,
To an impatient childe that hath new robes,
And may not weare them. O here comes my Nurſe.

Enter Nurse with cords.

And the brings newes, and every tongue that ſpeakes
But Romeo's name, ſpeakes heavenly eloquence.
Now Nurſe, what newes? what haſt thou there?
The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?

Nurſe. I, I, the cords.

Jul. Ay me, what newes? why doest thou wring thy hands?

Nur. A weladay, hee's dead, hee's dead, hee's dead,

We are undone Lady, we are undone :

Alack the day, hee's gone, hee's kill'd, hee's dead,

Jul. Can heaven be ſo envious?

Nurſe. Romeo can,

Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo,

Who ever would have thought it Romeo?

Jul. What divell art thou that doſt torment me thus?

This torture ſhould be roar'd in diſmall hell :

Hath Romeo ſlaine himſelfe? ſay thou but I,

And that bare vowell I ſhall poyſon more

Than the death-darting eye of Cockatrice :

I am not I, if there be ſuch an I,

Or thoſe eyes ſhor, that makes thee anſwere I.

If he be ſlaine ſay I, or if not, No,

Briefe ſounds determine of my weale or woe.

Nurſe.

The most lamentable Tragedy

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,
God save the marke, here on his manly breast,
A piteous coarſe, a bloody piteous coarſe,
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedeaw'd in blood,
All in gore blood: I woun'd at the fight.

Jul. O break my heart, poore bankrupt breake at once,
To prifon eyes, ne're looke on liberty,
Vile earth to earth refigne, end motion here,
And thou and Romeo prefle one heavie beere.

Nurse. O Tibalt, Tibalt, the beſt friend I had,
O courteous Tibalt, honest Gentleman,
That ever I should live to see thee dead.

Jul. What ſtorme is this that blowes ſo contrary?
Is Romeo slaughtr'd ? and is Tibalt dead ?
My deareſt cousin, and my dearer Lord :
Then dreadfull trumpet found the generall doome,
For who is living if thofe two are gone ?

Nurse. Tibalt is gone, and Romeo banifhed,
Romeo that kild him, he is banifhed.

Jul. O God did Romeo's hand ſhred Tibalts blood ?
Nurse. It did, it did, alas the day it did.
Jul. O ſerpent heart hid with a flowring face !
Did ever dragon keefe ſo faire a cave ?
Beautifull tyrant, fiend angelical,
Ravenous dove, feathred raven, wolviſh-ravening lamb,
Deſpifed ſubſtance of divinest ſhew,
Juſt oppoſite to what thou juſtly ſeeineſt,
A damned Saint, an honourable villaine.
O nature, what hadſt thou to doe in hell,
When thou didſt poure the ſpirit of a fiend
In mortall paradife of ſuch ſweet ſleſh ?
Was ever booke containing ſo vile matter
So fairely bound ? O that deceit should dwell
In ſuch a gorgeous palace !

Nur. There's no truſt, no faith, no honefy in men,
All perjur'd, all forſworne, all naught, all diſſemblers :
Ah, where's my man ? give me ſome Aqua vite.

These

of Romeo and Juliet

These griefes, these woes, these ſorrowes make me old,
Shame come to Romeo.

Jul. Blittered be thy tongue

For ſuch a wifh : he was not borne to ſhame,
Upon his brow ſhame is aſham'd to ſit :

For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
Sole Monarch of the univerſall earth.

O what a beaſt was I to chide at him?

Nur. Will you ſpeake well of him that kill'd your cousin ?

Jul. Shall I ſpeake ill of him that is my husband ?

Ah poore my Lord ! what tongue shall ſmooth thy name,
When I thy three houres wife have mangled it ?

But wherefore villaine didſt thou kill my cousin ?

That villaine cousin would have kill'd my husband.

Backe fooliſh teares, backe to your native ſpring,
Your tributary drops belong to woe,

Which you miſtaking offer up to joy.

My husband lives that Tibalts would have ſlaine,
And Tibalt's dead that would have ſlaine my husband :

All this is comfort : wherefore weepe I then ?

Some words there were worſer than Tibalts death

That murdred me : I would forget it ſaine,

But oh, it preſſes to my memory,

Like damned guilty deeds to finners mindeſ;

Tibalt is dead, and Romeo banifhed.

That banifhed, that one word banifhed,

Hath ſlaine ten thouſand Tibalts : Tibalts death

Was woe enough, if it had ended there.

Or if ſowre woe delights in fellowship,

And needly will be rankt with other griefes,

Why follow'd nor, when ſhe ſaid Tibalt's dead,

Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,

Which moderne lamentation might have mov'd :

But with a rereward following Tibalts death,

Romeo is banifhed : to ſpeake that word,

Is father, mother, Tibalt, Romeo, Juliet,

All ſlaine, all dead, Romeo is banifhed.

G

There

The most lamentable Tragedy

There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
In that words death, no words can that woe found.
Where is my father and my mother Nurfe ?

Nur. Weeping and wailing over Tibalts coarse:
Will you goe to them ? I will bring you thither.

Jul. Wath they his wounds with teares, mine shall be spent,
When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those cords; poore ropes you are beguil'd,
Both you and I, for Romeo is exil'd:

He made you for a high-way to my bed,
But I a maide dye maiden widowed.
Come cord, come Nurfe, Ile to my wedding bed,
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead.

Nurse. Hye to your chamber, Ile finde Romeo,
To comfort you : I wot well where he is,
Harke you, your Romeo will be here at night:
Ile to him, he is hid at Laurence Cell.

Jul. O find him, give this ring to my true Knight,
And bid him come to take his last farewell.

Exit.

Enter, Frier and Romeo.

Fri. Romeo come forth, come forth thou fearfull man,
Affliction is enamor'd of thy parts,
And thou art wedded to calamity.

Re. Father what newes ? what is the Princes doome?

That yet I know not.

Fri. Too familiar

Is my deare sonne with such lowre company :

I bring thee tidings of the Princes doome:
Re. What lesse than doomday is the Princes doome?

Fri. A gentler judgement vanifht from his lips:
Not bodies death, but bodies banishment.

Rom. Ha ! banishment ? be mercitull, say death,
For exile hath more terror in his looke,
Much more than death ; doe not say banifhment.

Fri. Here from Verona art thou banifhed:

Be

of Romeo and Juliet.

Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Rom. There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell it selfe.

Hence banifhed is banifht from the world,
And worlds exile is death. Then banifhed
Is death miſtearm'd : calling death banifhed,
Thou cut it my head off with a golden Axe,
And ſmil it upon the ſroke that murders me.

Fri. O deadly finne ! O rude unthankfulneſſe !
Thy fault our Law calls death, but the kind Prince
Taking thy part, hath rufſt aside the law,
And turn'd that blacke word death to banifhment :
This is deare mercy, and thou ſeet it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy : Heaven is here
Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dogge,
And little mouſe, every unworthy thing
Live here in heaven, and may looke on her,
But Romeo may not. More validity,
More honourable ſtate, more Courtship lives
In carrion flies than Romeo: they may feize
On the white wonder of deare Juliets hand,
And ſteale immortall bleſſing from her lips,
Who even in pure and Vesta modewty

Still bluſh, as thinking their owne kiffes finne :

This may flies doe, when I from this muſt flye,
And ſaith thou yet that exile is not death?

But Romeo may not, he is banifhed,
Flyes may doe this, but I from this muſt flye :

They are free men, but I am banifhed.

Hadst thou no poison mixt, no sharpe grownd knife,
No sudden meane of death, though nere so meane,
But Banifhed to kill me ? Banifhed !

O Frier, the damned one, that word in hell,
Howling attends it: how haſt thou the heart,
Being a Divine, a ghoftly Confessor,
A ſinne Obsolver, and my Friend proſeſt,

To mangle me with that word banifhed?

G 2

Fri.

Fri. Thou fond mad man, heare me a little speak.

Rom. O thou wilt speake againe of banishment.

Fri. Ile give thee armour to keepe off that word,

Adverfities weet milke, Philosophy,

To comfort thee though thou art banifhed.

Rom. Yet banifhed ? hang up Philosophy,

Unleſſe Philosophy can make a *Juliet*,

Diſplant a towne, reverse a Princes doome,

It helps not, it prevails not, talke no more.

Fri. O then I fee that mad men have no eares.

Rom. How should they, when wife men have no eyes ?

Fri. Let me dispuſe with thee of thy eſtate.

Rom. Thou canſt not ſpeake of that thou doſt not feele.

Wert thou as young as I, *Juliet* thy love,

An houre but married, *Tibalt* murdered,

Doting like me, and like me banifhed,

Then might ſt thou speake,

Then might ſt thou teare thy haire,

And fall upon the ground as I doe now,

Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

Nurse knockes.

Fri. Arife, one knockes, good *Romeo* hide thy ſelfe.

Rom. Not I, unleſſe the breath of heart-ficke grones

Mift-like infold me from the ſearch of eyes.

Knocke.

Fri. Harke how they knocke (who's there ?) *Romeo* arife.

Thou wilt be taken (ſtay a while) ſtand up.

Knocke againe.

Run to my ſtudy (by and by) Gods will,

What ſimplenefſe is this : I come, I come.

Knocke.

Who knockes ſo hard ? whence come you ? what's your will?

Enter Nurse.

Nur. Let me come in, and you shall know my errand :

I come from Lady *Juliet*.

Fri. Welcome then.

Nur. O holy Frier, O tell me holy Frier.

Where's

## of Romeo and Juliet.

Where's my Ladies Lord ? where's *Romeo* ?

Fri. There on the ground,

With his owne teares made drunke.

Nur. O, he is even in my Miftrefſſe cafe,

Juſt in her cafe: O wofull ſimpathy !

Piteous predicament ! even ſo lyes ſhe,

Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring :

Stand up, ſtand up, ſtand and you be a man,

For *Juliet's* ſake, for her ſake rife and ſtand :

Why should you fall into ſo deepe an O ?

Rom. Nurſe.

Nur. Ah fir, ah fir, death is the end of all.

Rom. Spak it thou of *Juliet* ? how it with her ?

Doth ſhe not chinke me an old murtherer,

Now I have ſtain'd the child-head of our joy,

With blood remov'd but little from her owne?

Where is ſhe ? and how doth ſhe ? and what ſayes

My conceal'd Lady to our cancel'd love ?

Nur. Oh, ſhe ſayes nothing fir, but weeps and weepes,

And now falls on her bed, and then starts up,

And *Tibalt* calls, and then on *Romeo* cries,

And then downe falls againe.

Rom. As if that name ſhot from the deadly levell of a gun,

Did murther her, as that names curſed hand

Murdred her kinfman. Oh tell me Frier, tell me,

In what vile part of this Anatomy

Doth my name lodge ? tell me, that I may ſacke

The hatefull manſion.

Fri. Hold thy desperate hand.

Art thou a man ? thy ſorme cries out thou art,

Thy teares are womanif ſt, thy wilde aſts denote

The unreasonable fury of a beaſt.

Unfeemely woman in a ſeeming man,

And ill beſeeming beaſt in ſeeming both,

Thou haſt amaz'd me : By my holy Order

I thought thy diſpoſition better temper'd.

G 3

And

The most lamentable Tragedy

And flay thy Lady, that in thy life lyes,
By doing damned hate upon thy selfe?
Why railt thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth,
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
In thee at once, which thou at once wouldst lofe ?
Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit,
Which like an Usher, aboundest in all,
And useft none in that true use, indeed,
Which should bedecke thy shape, thy love, thy wit.
Thy noble shape is but a forme of waxe,
Digreffing from the valour of a man :
Thy deare love ſworne, but hollow perjury,
Killing that love which thou haſt, vow'd to cheriſh :
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Miffle-shapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skill-lett ſouldiers flaske,
Is ſet on fire by thine owne ignorance,
And thou diſmembred with thine owne defence.
What? rowle thee man, thy Juliet is alive,
For whose deare ſake thou waſt but lately dead :
There art thou happy. Tibalt would kill thee,
But thou flewest Tibalt, there art thou happy.
The Law that threatened death becomes thy friend,
And turnes it to exile, there art thou happy.
A packe of bleſſings light upon thy backe,
Happineſſe courts thee in her beſt array,
But like a misbehav'd and ſullen wench
Thou poutſt upon thy fortune and thy love.
Take heed, take heed, for ſuch dye miſerable.
Goe get thee to thy love, as was decree'd,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her :
But looke thou flay not till the watch be ſet,
For then thou canſt not paſſe to Mantua,
Where thou ſhalt live till we can find a time
Toblaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee backe,
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy

Than

of Romeo and Juliet.

Than thou wentſt forth in lamentation.
Goe before Nurfe, commend me to thy Lady,
And bid her haſten all the houſe to bed,
Which heavie ſorrow makes them apt unto,
Romeo is comming.

Nur. O Lord, I could have ſtaid here all the night,
To heare good counſell; oh what Learning is!
My Lord, Ile tell my Lady you will come.

Rom. Doe so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.

Nur. Here fir, a ring ſhe bids me give you fir,
Hie you, make haſte, for it growes very late.

Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this.

Fri. Goe hence, good night, and here ſtands all your ſtate,
Either be gone before the watch be ſet,

Or by the breake of day diſguis'd from hence :
Sojourne in Mantua, Ile finde out your man,

And he shall ſignifie from time to time

Every good hap to you that chances here :

Give me thy hand, 'tis late, farewell, good night.

Rom. But that a joy paſſ joy calls out on me,
It were a griefe to briefe to part with thee.

Farewell.

Exeunt.

Enter old Capulet, his wife, and Paris.

Cap. Things have falne out fir so unluckily,

That we have had no time to move our daughter :

Looke you, the lov'd her Kinfman-Tibalt dearely,

And so did I: well, we were borne to dye.

'Tis very late, shee'll not come downe to night.

I promife you but for your company.

I would have beene a bed an houre agoe.

Paris. Theſetimes of woe afford no times to wooe :

Madam good night, commend me to your daughter.

La. I will, and know her mind early to morrow,

To night the is mewed up to her heavineſſe.

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender

Of my childes love; I thinke she will be rul'd

19

The most lamentable Tragedy

In all respects by me: nay, more, I doubt it not.

Wife, goe you to her ere you goe to bed,

Acquaint her here with my ſonne Paris love,

And bid her, marke you me, on wednesday next:

But toff, what day is this?

Paris. Monday, my Lord.

Ca. Monday, ha, ha, well wednesday is too ſoone;

A thursday let it be, a thursday tell her

Shee shall be married to this noble Earle :

Will you be ready ? doe you like this haſte ?

Wee’ll keepe no great adoe, a friend or two:

For harke you, Tibalt being ſaine so late,

It may be thought we held him careleſtly,

Being our kinlman, if we revell much :

Therefore wee’ll have some halſe a dozen friends,

And there an end: But what say you to Thursday ?

Paris. My Lord, I would that thursday were to morrow.

Cap. Well, get you gone, a thursday be it then :

Goe you to Juliet ere you goe to bed,

Prepare her, wife, againſt this wedding day.

Farewell my Lord: light to my chamber ho,

Afore me: it is so very late, that we may call it early by and by.

Goodnight.

Exeunt.

Enter Romeo and Juliet aloft.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet neare day:

It was the Nightingale and not the Larke,
That peare’t the fearefull hollow of thine eare;

Nightly the ſings on yond Pomegranate tree :

Beleeve me love it was the Nightingale.

Rem. It was the Larke, the herald of the morne,
No Nightingale: looke love what envious ſtreakes

Doe lace the fevering clouds in yonder East:

Nights candles are burnt out, and jocond day

Stands tip-toe on the mifty mountaines tops :

I muſt be gone and live, or ſtay and dye.

Jul. Yond light is not day-light, I know it I:

It

of Romeo and Juliet.

It is ſome Meteor that the ſonne exhale,
To be to thee this night a Torch-bearer,

And light thee on thy way to Mantua.

Therefore ſtay yet, thou needest not be gone.

Rom. Let me be ta’n, let me be put to death,
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.

Ile ſay you gray is not the mornings eye,
’Tis but the pale reflexe of Cinthia’s brow.

Nor that is not the Larke whose notes doe beat

The vanity heaven so high above our heads :

I have more care to ſtay than will to goe,
Come death and welcome, Juliet wills it so.

How if my ſoule ? let’s talke, it is not day.

Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone away;

It is the Larke that ſings so out of tune,

Straying harſh diſcords, and unpleafing ſharps.

Some ſay the Larke makes ſweet diviſion;

This doth not so, for ſhe divideth us.

Some ſay the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes,

O now I would they had chang’d voices too,

Since arme from arme that voice doth us affray,

Hunting thee hence with Huntſup to the day.

O now be gone, more light and light it growes.

Rom. More light and light, more darke and darke
OHR WOES.

Enter Madam and Nurse.

Nurf. Madam.

Jul. Nurse.

Nurf. Your Lady mother is comming to your chamber,
The day is broke, be wary, looke about.

Jul. Then window let day in, and let life out.

Rem. Farewell, farewell, one kiffle and Ile defend.

Jul. Art thou gone so love, Lord,ay husband, friend ?
I muſt heare from thee every day in the houre,

For in a minute there are many dayes.

O by this count I ſhall be much in yeeres,

Ere I againe behold my Romeo.

H

Rom.

The most lamentable Tragedy

Rom. Farewell.

I will omit no opportunity,

That may convey my greetings, Love, to thee.
JUL. O think it thou we shall ever meet againe?

JUL. O think it thou we shall ever meet againe?
ROM. I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.

For sweet discourses in our time to come.
JUL. O God, I have an ill divining foule,
ME thinkes I see thee now thou art so low
As one dead in the bottome of a tombe ;
Either my eye-fight failes or thou lookt pale.

Either my eye-fight failes or thou lookt pale.
ROM. And trust me love in my eye so doe you,
Dry sorrow drinkes our blood. Adieu, adieu.

ROM. And trust me love in my eye so doe you,
Dry sorrow drinkes our blood. Adieu, adieu.
Exit.

Exit.

JUL. O fortune, fortune, all men call thee fickle ;
If thou art fickle what doft thou with him
That is renown'd for faith ? Be fickle fortune,
For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him longs.
But send him backe.

Enter Mother.

La. Ho daughter, are you up?

JUL. Who if that calls ? it is my Lady mother.
Is the not downe so late, or up so early?

What unaccuſtom'd caufe procures her hither ?

La. Why how now Juliet ?

JUL. Madam I am not well.

La. Evermore weeping for your confins death ?
What ? wilt thou wath him from his grave with teares ?

And if thou couldst , thou couldst not make him live ;
Therefore have done, some griefe ſhewes much of love,
But much of griefe ſhewes fill some want of wit.

JUL. Yet let me weepe for such a feeling loffe.

La. So shall you feele the loffe, but not the friend
Which you weepe for.

JUL. Feeling so the loffe,
I cannot chuse but ever weepe the friend.

La. Well Girle, thou weepst not so much for his death,
As that the villaine lives which flaightered him.

Juli.

of Romeo and Juliet

Jul. What villaine Madam ?

La. That fame villaine Romeo.

Jul. Villaine and he be many miles alunder,
God pardon him, I doe with all my heart :
And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.

La. That is because the Traitor lives.

Jul. I Madam, from the reach of these my hands :
Would none but I might venge my confins death.

La. We will have vengeance for it, feare thou not.
Then weep no more, Ile tend to one in Mantua,
Where that fame banifht runnagate doth live,
Shall give him such an unaccuſtom'd dram,
That he shall soone keepe Tibalt company,
And then I hope thou wilt be satisfi'd.

Jul. Indeed I never shall be satisfi'd
With Romeo till I behold him. Dead
Is my poore heart, so for a kinfman vext.
Madam, if you could finde out but a man
To beare a poyſon, I would temper it,
That Romeo should upon receit thereof
Soone fleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhorres
To heare him nam'd, and cannot come to him,
To wreake the love I bore my cousin,
Upon his body that hath slaughtred him.

Mo. Find thon the meanes, and Ile finde such a man,
But now Ile tell thee joyfull tidings Girle.

Jul. And joy comes well in such a needy time :
What are they I beſeech your Ladiship?

Mo. Well, well, well thou haſt a careful father childe,
One, who to put thee from thy heavinesſe,
Hath forſted out a ſudden day of joy,
That thou expeſts not, nor I lookt not for.

Jul. Madam in happy time, what day is that ?

Mo. Marry my childe early next Thursday morne,
The gallant, young, and noble Gentleman,
The County Paris at Saint Peters Church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyfull Bride.

H 2

Jul.

The most lamentable Tragedy

Jul. Now by Saint Peters Church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyfull Bride.

I wonder at this hafe, that I muft wed
Ere he that muſt be husband comes to wooe :
I pray you tell my Lord and Father, Madam,
I will not marry yet; and when I doe, I ſweare
It ſhall be Romeo, whom you know I bate,
Rather than Paris. These are newes indeed.

Mo. Here comes your father, tell him so your ſelfe,
And see how he will take it at your hands.

Enter Capulet and Nurfe.

Cap. When the Sun sets, the aire doth drifle dew,
But for the Sun-set of my brothers ſonne,
It raines downe right.
How now, a Conduit Girle ? what ſtill in teares ?
Evermore ſhowring ? In one little body
Thou counterfeitſt a Barke, a Sea, a winde :
For ſtill thy eyes, which I may call the ſea,
Doe ebbe and flow with teares; the Bark thy body is,
Sailing in this ſalt flood; the windes thy ſighes,
Who raging with thy teares, and they with them,
Without a ſudden calme will over-set
Thy tempeſt toſſed body. How now wife ?
Have you delivered to her our decree ?

La. I fir, but she will none, she gives you thankes.
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 ſhe give us thanks?
Is she not proud ? doth she not count her bleſt,
(Unworthy as she is) that we have wrought
So worthy a Gentleman to be her Bridegroome ?

Jul. Not proud you have, but thankfull that you have:
Proud can I never be of what I hate,
But thankfull even for hate that's meant in love.

Cap. How now ? how now ? chopt logick? what is this?
Proud, and I thanke you, and I thanke you not,
And yet not proud : Miftris minion, you,
Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no prounds,

But

of Romeo and Juliet.

But fettle your fine joints 'gainſt Thursday next,
To goe with Paris to Saint Peters Church,
Or I will dragge thee on a hurdle thither.
Out you greene ſickneſſe carrion, out you baggage,
You tallow face.

La. Fie, ſie, what are you mad ?

Jul. Good father, I beſeech you on my knees,
Heare me with patience but to ſpeake a word.

Fa. Hang thee young baggage, diſobedient wretch,
I tell thee what, get thee to Church a Thursday,
Or never after looke me in the face.
Speake not, reply not, doe not anſwere me,
My fingers itch: Wife, we ſcarce thought us bleſt
That God had lent us but this onely childe,
But now I ſee this one is one too much,
And that we have a curſe in having her :
Out on her hilding.

Nur. God in heaven bleſſe her,
You are to blame my Lord to rate her ſo.
Fa. And why my Lady wifdome ? hold your tongue,
Good Prudence ſmatter with your goſſips, goe.
Nurſe. I ſpeake no treaſon.
Fa. O Godigeden.
Nurſe. May not one ſpeake?
Fa. Peace you mumbling fool,
Utter your gravitie o're a Goſſips bowle,
For here we need it not.

Wife. You are too hot.

Fa. Gods bread, it makes me mad :
Day, night, houre, tide, time, worke, play,
Alone, in company, ſtill my care hath bin
To have her matcht, and having now provided
A Gentleman of noble parentage,
Of ſaire demeanes, youthfull, and nobly alli'd,
Stuſt (as they ſay) with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as ones thought would with a man;
And then to have a wretched puling fool,

H 3

A

The moſt lamentable Tragedy

A whining mammet in her fortunes tender,
To answer, Ile not wed, I cannot love;
I am too young, I pray you pardon me.
But and you will not wed Ile pardon you,
Graze where you will, you ſhall not house with me;
Looke too't, thinke on't, I doe not uſe to jeſt,
Thurday is neere, lay hand on heart, adviſe,
And you be mine, Ile give you to my friend ;
And you be not, hang, beg, starve, dye in the streets,
For by my ſoule Ile ne're acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine ſhall ever doe thee good.
Traut too't, bethinke you, Ile not be forſworne.

Exit.

Jul. Is there no pitty ſitting in the cloudes,
That fees into the bottome of my griefe ?
O sweet my mother caſt me not away,
Delay this marriage for a moneth, a weeke ;
Or if you doe not, make the Bridall bed
In that dim Monument where Tibalt lyes.

Mo. Talke not to me, for Ile not ſpeake a word,
Doe as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.

Exit.

Jul. O God, O Nurſe, how ſhall this be prevented?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven,
How ſhall that faith returne againe to earth,
Unleſſe that husband ſend it me from heaven,
By leaving earth ? comfort me, counſell me.
Alacke, alacke, that heaven ſhould practice ſtratagems
Upon ſo ſoft a ſubject as my ſelfe.

What ſaſt thou ? haſt thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort Nurſe.

(nothing,

Nur. Faith here it is. Romeo is banifhed, and all the world to
That he dares ne're come backe to challenge you :
Or if he doe, it needs muſt be by ſleakh :
Then ſince the cafe ſo ſtands as now it doth,
I thinke it beſt you married with the Countie.
O hee's a lovely Gentleman:

Romeo's a diſt-clout to him: an Eagle Madam
Hath not ſo greene, ſo quick, ſo faire an eye

As

of Romeo and Juliet.

As Paris hath : beſhrew my very heart,
I thinke you are happy in this ſecond match,
For it excels your firſt ; or if it did not,
Your firſt is dead, or 'twere as good he were,
As living here and you no uſe of him.

Jul. Speakeſt thou from thy heart ?

Nur. And from my ſoule too, or eſſe beſhrew them both.

Jul. Amen.

Nur. What ?

Jul. Well, thou haſt comforted me marvellous much.
Goe in and tell my Lady I am gone,
Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence Cell,
To make conſeſſion, and to be abſolv'd.

Exit.

Nur. Marrie I will, and this is wifely done.

Jul. Ancient damnation, O moſt wicked fiend,
Is it more finne to wifh me thus forſworne,
Or to diſpraile my Lord wirh that fame tongue,
Which the hath prais'd him with above compare,
So many thouand times ? Goe Counſeller,
Thou and my boſome henceforth ſhall be twaine :
Ile to the Frier to know his remedy,
If all eſſe faile, my ſelfe have power to dye.

Exit.

Enter Frier and County Paris.

Fri. On Thursday fir : the time is very ſhort.

Pa. My father Capulet will have it so,
And I am nothing flow to ſlacke his haſte.

Fri. You ſay you do not know the Ladies minde,
Uneven is this courſe, I like it not.

Pa. Immoderately the weepes for Tibalts death,
And therefore have I little talkt of love :
For Venus smiles not in a house of teares.
Now fir her father counts it dangerous
That the doth give her ſorrow ſo much ſway,
And in his wifdome haſtes our marriage,
To ſtop the inundation of her teares,
W hich too much minded by her ſelfe alone,
May be put from her by ſociery.

Now

The most lamentable Tragedy

Now doe you know the reason of this hafe?

Fri. I would I knew not why it should be flowed :
Looke fir, here's comes the Lady towards my Cell.

Enter Juliet.

Par. Happily met my Lady and my wife.

Jul. That may be fir, when I may be a wife.

Pa. That may be, muft be love on Thursday next.

Jul. What muft be shall be.

Fri. That's a certaine text.

Par. Come you to make confession to this Father ?

Jul. To answer that I should confess to you.

Par. Doe not deny to him that you love me.

Jul. I will confess to you that I love him.

Par. So will ye I am sure that you love me.

Jul. If I doe so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your backe, than to your face.

Par. Poore soule, thy face is much abus'd with teares.

Jul. The teares have got small victory by that,
For it was bad enough before their spight.

Par. Thou wrongst it more than teares with that report.

Jul. That is no flander fir, which is a truth,

And what I spake I spake it to my face.

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou haft flandred it.

Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine owne.

Are you at leisure, holy father, now ?

Or shall I come to you at evening Maffe?

Fri. My leisure serves me, penfive daughter, now :
My Lord, we muft intreat the time alone.

Pa. God shield I should difturbe devotion.

Juliet, on thurday early will I rowle ye,

Till then adieu, and keepe this holy kiffe.

Jul. O flut the doore, and when thou haft done so,
Come weep with me, paft hope, paft cure, paft helpe.

Fri. O Juliet, I already know thy griefe,
It traines me paft the compaffe of my wits ;
I heare thou muft, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this County.

Jul.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Jul. Tell me not Friar that thou hearst of this,
Unleffe thou tell me how I may prevent it :

If in thy wiſdome thou canſt give no helpe,
Doe thou but call my resolution wife,

And with this knife Ile helpe it prefent ly.

God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;

And ere this hand by thee to Romeo's feal'd,
Shall be the Labell to another deed,

Or my true heart with treacherous revolt

Turne to another, this shall ſlay them both.

Therefore out of thy long experience't time,

Give me some prefent counſell, or behold

Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife

Shall play the Umpire, arbitrating that

Which the commission of thy yeares and art

Could to no illne of true honour bring:

Be not so long to ſpeake, I long to dye,

If what thou ſpeak't ſpeake not of remedy.

Fri. Hold daughter, I doe ſpy a kindne of hope.

Which craves as desperate an execution,
As that is desperate which we would prevent.

If rather than to marry Countie Paris

Thou haſt the ſtrength of will to ſlay thy ſelfe,

Then is it likely thou wilt undertake

A thing like death to chide away this ſhame,

That coopſt with death himselfe to ſcape from it :

And if thou dareſt, Ile give thee remedy.

Jul. Oh bid me leape, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of any Tower :

Or walke in theeviſh wayes, or bid me lurke

Where serpents are : chaine me with roring beares,

Or hide me nightly in a charnell house,

Ore covered quite with dead mens ratling bones,

With reekie thankes, and yellow chapleſſe skuls :

Or bid me goe into a new made grave,

And hide me with a dead man in his ſhroud;

Things that to heare them told have made me tremble,

I

And

The most lamentable Tragedy

And I will do it without fear or doubt.

To live an untaint'd wife to my sweet Love.

Fri. Hold then, goe home, be merry, give confent.

To marry Paris: wednesday is to morrow,

To morrow night looke that thou lye alone,

Let not thy Nurse lye with thee in thy chamber:

Take thou this viall being then in bed.

And this distilling liquor drinke thou off,

When presently through all thy veines shall runne

A cold and drowfie humour: for no pulse

Shall keep his native progræſſe, but ſurceaſe:

No warmth, no breath shall reſtife thou liv't.

The roſes in thy lips and cheekes shall fade

To paly aſhes, thy eyes windowes fall,

Like death when he fluts up the day of life:

Each part depriv'd of ſupple government,

Shall ſtife and ſtarke and cold appeare like death:

And in this borrow'd likeneſſe of ſhrunke death

Thou ſhalt continue two and forty hours,

And then awake as from a pleasant ſleep.

Now when the bridegroome in the morning comes,

To rowſe thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:

Then, as the manner of our country is,

In thy best robes, uncover'd on the Beere,

Be borne to buriall in thy kindreds grave:

Thou ſhalt be borne to that fame ancient vault,

Where all the kindred of the Capulets lye:

In the meane time againſt thou ſhalt awake,

Shall Romeo by my Letters know our drift,

And bither ſhall he come: and he and I

Will watch thy waking: and that very night

Shall Romeo beare thee hence to Mantua.

And this shall free thee from this preſent ſhame,

If no inconſtant joy nor womaniſh ſeare

Abate thy valour in the acting it.

Jn. Give me, give me, O tell me not of ſeare.

Fri. Hold, get you gone, be strong and prosperous

In

of Romeo and Juliet.

In this resolve: Ile send a Frier with ſpeed

To Mantua with my Letters to thy Lord.

Jul. Love give me ſtrength, and ſtrength shall helpe afford.

Farewell deare father.

Exequies

Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Ser-
vingmen, two or three.

Cap. So many gueſts invite as here are writ:

Sirrah: goe hire me twenty cunning Cookes.

Ser. You shall have none ill ſir, for Ile try if they can licke their fingers.

Cap. How canſt thou try them to?

Ser. Marrie ſir it is an ill Cooke that cannot licke his owne
fingers : therefore he that cannot licke his fingers goes not with
me.

Cap. Goe be gone, we ſhall be much unſumſht for this time:
what ? is my daughter gone to Frier Lawrence ?

Nur. I forſooth.

Cap. Well, he may chance to doe ſome good on her,
A peeviſh ſelſe-will'd harlotry it is.

Enter Juliet.

Nur. See where ſhe comes from, ſhrift with merrie looke.

Cap. How now my head-ſtrong, where have you beene gad-
ding?

Jul. Where I have learnt to repent the ſinne

Of disobedient oppofition

To you and your beheſts, and am injoin'd

By holy Lawrence to fall proſtrate here,

To begge your pardon : pardon I beſeech you,
Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.

Cap. Send for the County, goe tell him of this,
Ile have this knot knit up to morrow morning.

Jul. I met the youthfull Lord at Lawrence Cell,
And gave him what becomm'd love I might,
Not ſtepping ore 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:

I marry, goe I say and fetch him hither.

12

Now

The most lamentable Tragedy

Now afore God this holy reverend Frier,
All our whole City is much bound to him.

Jul. Nurse, will you goe with me into my closet,
To helpe me fort such needfull ornaments
As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow?

Mo. No, not till thurday; there is time enough.

Fa. Go Nurse, goe with her, we'll to Church to morrow.

Exeunt.

Mo. We shall be short in our privison,
Tis now neare night.

Fa. Tufh, I will stirre about,

And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife.

Goe thou to Juliet, helpe to decke up 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 County Paris, to prepare up him

Against to morrow; my heart is wondrous light,

Since this fame wayward girle is for reclaim'd.

Exeunt.

Enter Juliet and Nurse.

Jul. I, those attires are best; but gentle Nurse
I pray thee leave me to my selfe to night,

For I have need of many Orisons,

To move the heavens to smile upon my flate.

Which well thou know'st is croffe and full of finne.

Enter Mother.

Mo. What are you buſe ho? need you my help?

Jul. No Madam, we have cull'd such necessaries

As are behoovefull for our flate to morrow:

So please you let me now be left alone,

And let the Nurse this night fit up with you,
For I am fure you have your hands full all,

In this so sudden buſineſſe.

Mo. Goodnight,

Get thee to bed and rest, for thou haſt need.

Exeunt.

Jul.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Jul. Farewell, God knowes when we shall meet againe.
I have a faint cold feare thrills through my veines,

That almost freezes up the heat of life:
Ile call them backe againe to comfort me.

Nurse: what should she doe heare?

My diſmall Scene I needs must act alone.

Come Viall: what if this mixture doe not worke at all?

Shall I be married then to morrow morning?

No, no, this shall forbid it, lye thou there.

What if it be a poyſon which the Frier

Subtill hath minſtred to have me dead,

Left in this marriage he should be diſhonour'd,

Because he married me before to Romeo?

I feare it is; and yet me thinks it should not,
For he hath ſtill beene tryed an holy man.

How if when I am laid into the tombe,

I wake before the time that Romeo

Come to redeem me? there's a fearfull point,

Shall I not then be ſtifled in the Vault,

To whose foule mouth no health ſome aire breaths in,

And there dye 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 yeeres the bones

Of all my buried anceſters are packt;

Where bloody Tibalt, yet but greene in earth,

Lies ſeſtring in his ſhrowd; where, as they ſay,

At some houres in the night ſpirits reſort :

Alacke, alacke, it is not like that I

So early waking, what with loathſome ſmells,

And ſhrikes like mandrakes torne out of the earth,

That living mortalls hearing them runne mad:

Or if I wake, shall I not be diſtraught,

(Invironed with all these hideous feares.)

And madly play with my forefathers joints?

I 3.

And

The most lamentable Tragedy

And plucke the mangled Tibalt from his shrowd,
And in this rage with some great kinfmans bone,
As with a club, dash out my desperate braines.
O looke, methinkes I see my cousins ghoft
Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body
Upon a Rapiers point: ftay Tibalt ftay;
Romeo,Romeo,Romeo, here's drink, I drink to thee.
Enter Lady of the house and Nurfe.

La. Hold, take these keyes, and fetch more spices Nurfe.

Nur. They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastry.

Enter old Capulet.

Cap. Come, ftir, ftir, ftir, the second cocke hath crowed,
The Curphew bell hath rung, 'tis three a clocke:
Looke to the bakt meats, good Angelica
Spare not for coft.

Nurfe. Goe you Cor-queane, goe,
Get you to bed, faith you'll be sicke to morrow
For this nights watching.

Cap. No, not a whit, what ? I have watcht ere now
All night for lesse caufe, and nere been sicke.

La. I, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time,
But I will watch you from such watching now.

Exit Lady and Nurfe.

Cap. A jealous hood, a jealous hood: now fellow, what is there?
Enter three or foure with spits, and logs, and baskets.

Fel. Things for the Cooke fir, but I know not what.

Cap. Make hafte, make hafte; firrah fetch drier logges:
Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are.

Fel. I have a head fir that will finde out logges,
And never trouble Peter for the matter.

Cap. Maffe and we'll faid, a merry horzon, ha,
Thou Chalt be Loggerhead. Good faith 'tis day.
Play Musfice.

The County will be here with Musfice straight,
For so he faid he would: I heare him neare.
Nurfe, wife, what ho, what Nurfe I say.

Enter Nurfe.

Goe waken Juliet, goe and trim her up,

Ile

of Romeo and Juliet.

Ile goe and chat with Paris, hie, make hafte;
Make hafte, the Bridegroome hee is come already, make hafte
I say.

Nur. Miftris, what Miftris, Juliet: faft I warrant her the:
Why lambe, why Lady, fie you fluggabed;

Why Love I say, Madam, Sweet heart, why Bride:

What ? not a word? you take your penniworth now,
Sleepe for a weeke ; for the next night I warrant
The County Paris hath set up his reft,

That you shall reft but little: God forgive me,

Marry and Amen, how found is the aſſleepe :

I muſt needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam :

I, let the County take you in your bed,

Hee'll fright you up yfaith: will it not be?

What dreft and in your clothes, and downe again?

I muſt needs wake you ; Lady, Lady, Lady.

Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladie's dead.

Oh weladay that ever I was borne:

Some Aqua vita ho, my Lord, my Lady.

Mo. What noife is here?

Nur. O lamentable day !

Mo. What is the matter ?

Nur. Looke, looke, O heavie day !

Mo. O me, O me, my childe, my onely life !

Revive, looke up, or I will dye with thee:

Helpe, helpe, call helpe.

Enter Father.

Fa. For ſhame bring Juliet forth, her Lord is come,

Nur. Shee's dead, deceas't, shee's dead, alacke the day.

Mo. Alack the day, shee's dead, shee's dead, shee's dead.

Fa. Hah, let me see her: out alas shee's cold,
Her blood is fet led, and her joints are ſtife :

Life and theſe lips have long beene ſeparated,

Death lyes on her like an untimely froſt

Upon the ſweeteſt flower of all the field.

Nur. O lamentable day !

Mo. O wofull time!

Fa.

Fa. Death that hath ta'ne her hence to make me wale,
Tyes up my tongue, and will not let me speake.

*Enter Frier and the County, with Musicians.*

Fri. Come, is the Bride ready to goe to Church ?

Fa. Ready to goe, but never to returne.

O sonne, the night before thy wedding day
Hath death laine with thy wife, there she lyes,
Flower as she was, deflowred by him,
Death is my sonne in law, death is my heire,
My daughter he hath wedded, I will dye
And leave him all, life, living, all is deaths.

Pa. Have I thought long to see this mornings face,
And doth it give me such a fight as this ?

Mo. Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hatefull day,
Moſt miferable houre that ere time saw

In laſting labour of his Pilgrimage :

But one, poore one, one poore and loving childe,
But one thing to rejoice and ſolace in,

And cruell death hath catcht it from my fight.

Nur. O woe, O wofull, wofull, wofull day,
Moſt lamentable day, moſt wofull day,
That ever, ever I did yet behold :

O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day,
Never was ſeene ſo blacke a day as this.

O wofull day, O wofull day.

Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spighted, ſlaine,
Moſt detestable death, by thee beguil'd.

By cruell, cruell thee quite overthrowe,
O love, O life, not life, but love in death.

Fa. Despis'd, diftressed, hated, martyr'd, kil'd :
Uncomfortable time, why cam'ft thou now,
To murther, murther our Solemnity ?

O child, O child, my ſonne, and not my childe,
Dead art thou, alacke my child is dead,
And with my childe my joyes are buried.

Fri. Peace ho for ſhame, confusions, care lives not
In these confusions : heaven and your ſelfe

Had

## of Romeo and Juliet

Had part in this faire Maide; now heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the Maide.

Your part in her you could not keepe from death,

But heaven keeps his part in eternall life :
The moſt you fought was her promotion,

For 'twas your heaven she should be advanc't,

And weepe ye now ſeeing she is advanc't.
Above the clouds, as high as heaven himſelfe ?

O in this love you love your childe ſo ill,
That you run mad, ſeeing that ſhe is well.

Shee's not well married that lives married long.

But ſhees best married that dyes married young.

Dry up your teares, and ſicke your Rosemary.

On this faire coarſe ; and as the cuſtome is,
And in her beſt array, beare her to Church :

For though ſome nature bids us all lament,

Yet Natures teares are Reaſons merriment.

Fa. All things that we ordained ſeſtall,

Turne from their office to blacke funerall :
Our instruments to melancholy Bels,

Our wedding cheare to a ſad funerall feaſ,

Our ſolemnne hymnes to ſullen dyrges change,

Our bridall flowers ſerve for a buried coarſe,

And all things change them to the contrary.

Fri. Sir, goe you in ; and Madam goe with him,
And goe fir Paris, every one prepare

To follow this faire coarſe unto her grave.

The heavens doe lowre upon you for ſome ill,

Move them no more by croſſing their high will.

*Exeunt. Maneut Musici.*

Muſi. Faith we may put up our pipes and be gone.

Nur. Honey, good fellowes, ah put up, put up.

For well you know this is a pitifull cafe.

Fid. I by my troth, the cafe may be amended.

*Exeunt omnes.*

*Enter Peter.*

Pe. Muſitians, oh Muſitians, hearts eafe, hearts eafe,

K

The most lamentable Tragedy

O, and you will have me live, play hearts eafe.

Fid. Why hearts eafe?

Pet. O Musitians, because my heart it selfe playes, my heart is full of woe.

O play me some merry dump to comfort me.

Min. Nor a dump we, 'tis no time to play now.

Pet. You will not then?

Min. No.

Pet. I will then give it you foundly.

Min. What will you give us?

Pet. No mony on my faith, but the gleeke.

I will give you the Minstrell.

Min. Then will I give you the serving creature.

Pet. Then will I lay the serving creatures dagger on your pate.

I will carry no Crochets, Ile Re you, Ile Fa you:

Doe you note me?

Min. And you Re us and Fa us, you note us.

2. M. Pray you put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

Pet. Then have at you with my wit.

I will dry beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger;
Anſwer me like men.

When griping griefes the heart doth wound, then muſicke with
her ſilver found.

Why silver found ? why muſicke with her silver found ? what ſay
you Simon Catling?

Min. Marry ſir, because silver hath a ſweet found.

Pet. Pratee, what ſay you Hugh Rebieke ?

2. M. I lay silver found, because Musitians found for filver.

Pet. Pratee too: what ſay you James found poſt ?

3. M. 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 silver found.

Because Musitians have no gold for founding :

Then Muſicke with her silver found with ſpeedy helpe doth lend
redresse.

Exit.

Min.

of Romeo and Juliet

Min. What a peſtilent Knave is this?

M.2. Hang him Jacke, come wee'll in here, tarrie for the Mourners, and lay dinner.

Enter Romeo.

Exeunt.

Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleepe,
My dreames preſage ſome joyfull newes at hand,
My boſomes Lord ſits lightly on his throne,
And all this day an unaccuſtom'd ſpirit

Lifts me above the ground with cheerfull thoughts.
I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead,

Strange dreams that give a dead man leave to think,
And breath'd much life with kiffes in my lips,
That I reviv'd and was an Emperour.

Ah me, how ſweet is love it ſelfe poſſeſt,
When but loves ſhadowes are so rich in joy.

Enter Romeo's man Balthazar.

Newes from Verona ? how now Balthazar?

Doth thou not bring me letters from the Frier ?

How doth my Lady ? is my father well?

How doth my Lady Juliet ? that I aske againe,

For nothing can be ill if she be well.

Man. Then he is well, and nothing can be ill,
Her body sleeps in Capels monument,

And her immortall part with Angels lives.

I saw her laid low in her kindreds vaults,

And prefently tooke poſte to tell it you :

O pardon me for bringing theſe ill newes,
Since you did leave it for my office fir.

Rom. Is it even so ? then I deny you ſtarres.

Thou know't my lodging, get me inke and paper,

And hire poſt horſes, I will hence to night.

Man. I doe beſeech you fir have patience,

Your lookes are pale and wilde, and doe import
some mifadventure.

Rom. Tuffh, thou art deceiv'd;

Leave me, and doe the thing I bid thee doe.

K2

Haſt

The most lamentable Tragedy

Haft thou no Letters to me from the Frier?

Man. No my good Lord.

Exire.

Rom. Nomatter, get thee gone,
And hire thofe Horles, Ile be with thee straight.
Well Julier, I will lye with thee to night.

Let's see for meanes. O miſchreſe thou art ſwift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men :
I doe remember an Apothecary,

And hereabouts he dwels, which late I noted
In tattred weeds, with over-whelming browes
Culling of ſmPLES; meager were his lookes,
Sharpe miſery had worne him to the bones,
And in his needy ſhop a Tortore hung,

An Allegater ſluſt, and other skinnes

Of ill ſhap't filhes, and about his ſhelves

A beggerly accompt of empty boxes,

Greene earthen pots, bladders, and muſtie feeds,

Remnants of packthred, and old Cakes of Rokes

Were thinly scattered, to make up a ſhew.

Noting this penury, to my ſelfe I ſaid,

And if a man did need a poyſon now,

Whose ſale is preſent death in Mantua,

Here lives a Caitiffe wretch would ſell it him,

O this ſame thought did but fore-run my need,

And this ſame needy man ſluſt ſell it me.

As I remember, this ſhould be the ſhouse,

Being holy-day the beggers ſhop is ſluſt :

What ho ? Apothecary.

- Apo. Who calls so lou'd ?

Ro. Come hirer man : I ſee that thou art poore,
Hold, there is forty Ducks, let me have

A dram of poyſon, ſuch ſoone spreading geare

As will disperſe it ſelfe through all the veines,

That the life-wearie taker may fall dead,

And that the truncke may be diſcharg'd of breath,

As violently as haſty powder fier'd

Doth

of Romeo and Julier.

Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe.

Appo. Such mortall drugs I have, but Mantua's law
Is death to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchedneſſe,
And fear't to dye ? Famine is in thy cheekes,
Need and oppreſſion starveth in thine eyes,
Contempt and beggery hang upon thy back,
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.

Apo. My poverty but not my will conſents.

Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.

Apo. Put this in any liquid thing you will,
And drinke it off; and if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would disſpatch you straight.

Ro. There is thy gold, worſe poſson to mens ſoules,
Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
Than theſe poor compounds that thou maſt 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, goe with me

To Juliets grave, for there muſt I uſe thee.

Exeunt.

Enter Frier John to Frier Laurence.

Joh. Holy Franciſan Frier, brother, ho.

Enter Laurence.

Lau. This ſame ſhould be the voice of Frier John,
Welcome from Mantua : what layes Romeo ?

Or if his minde be writ, give me his Letter.

Joh. Going to finde a barefoot brother out,
One of our Order, to affociate me,

Here in the City viſiting the ſicke,

And finding him; the Searchers of the towne,

Suspeſting that we both were in a house

Where the infectious pestilence did raigne,

Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth,

So that my ſpeed to Mantua there was ſtaid,

K 3

Lau.

The most lamentable Tragedy

Lau. Who bare my letter then to Romeo?
John. I could not send it, here it is againe,
Nor get a Messenger to bring it thee,
So fearfull were they of infection.

Lau. Unhappy fortune, by my brotherhood
The letter was not nice, but full of charge,
Of deare import; and the neglecting it
May doe much danger. Frier John goe hence,
Get me an iron Crow, and bring it straight
Unto my Cell.

Exit.

John. Brother Ile goe and bring it thee.
Lau. Now muft I to the Monument alone?
Within the three houres will faire Juliet wake;
She will bebrew 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 living coarse clos'd in a dead mans tombe.

Exit.

Enter Paris and his Page.
Par. Give me thy torch boy, hence, & stand aloofe,
Yet put it out, for I would not be feene :
Under yond young trees lay thee all along,
Holding thy eare close to the hollow ground,
So shall no foot upon the Churchyard tread,
Being loose, unfirme, with digging up of graves,
But thou shall heare it : whistle then to me,
As signall that thou hearest something approach.
Give me those flowers, doe as I bid thee, goe.
Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone.
Here in the Churchyard, yet I will adventure.
Par. Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridall bed I strew:
O woe, thy Canopy is duft and stones,
Which with sweet water nightly I will new;
Or wanting that, with teares diff'till'd by mones,
The Obfequies that I for thee will keepe,

Nightly

of Romeo and Juliet.

Nightly shall be, to strew thy grave and weep.
Whistle Boy.

The Boy gives warning, something doth approach :
What curled foot wanders this way to night,
To crossle my obfequies and true loves right ?
What with a torch ? night muffle me a while.

Enter Romeo and Balthazer his man.

Rom. Give me the mattocke and the wrenching iron.
Hold, take this letter, early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my Lord and father.
Give me the light; upon thy life I charge thee
What ere thou hear it or see it stand all aloofe,
And doe 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 use
In deare employment : therefore hence, be gone,
But if thou jealous doft returne to pry
In what I farther shall intend to doe,
By heaven I will teare thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry Churchyard with thy limbs :
The time and my intents are savage wild,
More fierce and more inexorable farre,
Than empty Tigers, or the roaring sea.

Bal. I will be gone fir, and not trouble you.

Rom. So shall thou strew me friendship : take thou that,
Live and be prosperous, and farewell good fellow.

Bal. For all this fame Ile hide me hereabout,
His lookes I feare, and his intents I doubt.

Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou wombe of death,
Gorg'd with the deareft morfell of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jawes to open,
And in despite Ile cram thee with more food.

Par. This is that banifht haughty Mountague,
That murdred my Loves cousin; with which griefe
It is SUPPORED the faire creature died:

And

The most lamentable Tragedy

And here is come to doe some villainous shame
To the dead bodies : I will apprehend him.

Stop thy unhallowed toyle vile Mountague ;
Can vengeance be purfu'd further than death ?
Condemned villaine I doe apprehend thee,
Obey and goe with me, for thon muft dye.

Rom. I muft indeed, and therefore came I hither :
Good gentle youth tempt not a desperate man,
Fly hence and leave me, thinke upon these gone,
Let them affright thee. I befeech thee youth,
Put not another finne upon my head
By urging me to fury : O be gone,
By heaven I love thee better than my selfe,
For I come hither armed against my selfe :
Stay not, be gone, live, and hereafter say,
A mad mans mercy bad thee run away.

Par. I doe defie thy commiseration,
And apprehend thee for a Felon here.

Rom. Wilt thou provoke me ? then have at thee Boy.

Page. O Lord they fight, I will goe call the watch.

Par. O I am flaine : if thou be merciful,

Open the tombe, lay me with Juliet.

Rom. In faith I will; let me peruse this face :

Mercutio's kinfman, noble County Paris !
What said my man when my betoſſed ſoule

Did not attend him as we rode ? I thinke

He told me Paris should have married Juliet,
Said he not so ? or did I dreame it so ?

Or am I mad, hearing him talke of Juliet,
To thinke it was so ? O give me thy hand,

One writ with me in lowre misfortunes booke.

Ile bury thee in a triumphant grave :

A grave ! O no, a Lanthorne flaughtred youth ;
For here lyes Juliet, and her beautie makes
This vault a feaſting prefence full of light.

Death lye thou there by a dead man interr'd.
How oft when men are at the point of death,

Have

of Romeo and Juliet

Havethey beene narry, which their Keepers call
A lightning before death ? Oh how may I

Call this a lightning ? O my Love, my Wifc,
Death that hath fuckt the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty :

Thou art not conquer'd, beauties enſigne yet

Is crimſon in thy lips, and in thy cheeks :

And deaths pale flag is not advanced there.

Tibalt, lyſt thou there in thy bloody ſheet ?

O what more favour can I doe to thee,
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine

To ſunder his that was thine enemy?

Forgive me cousin. Ah deare Juliet,

Why art thou yet so faire ? I will beleeve,

Shall I beleeve that unſubſtantiall death is amorous?

And that the lean abhorred monster keepes
Thee here in darke to be his Paramour ?

For feare of that I ſtill will ſtay with thee,

And never from this palace of dim night

Depart againe : here, here will I remaine,

With wormes that are thy chambermaides : O here

Will I ſet up my everlaſting reſt,

And shake the yoke of inauspicious ſtarres

From this world-wearied ſ flesh : eyes look your laſt,

Armes take your laſt embrace ; and lips, O you

The doores of breath, ſeale with a rightrous kiffle

A dateleſſe bargaine to ingroſſing death :

Come bitter conduct, come unſavourie guide,

Thou desperate Pilot, now at once run on

The dafing rockes thy ſea-ficke weary barke :

Here's to my Love. O true Apothecary !

Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kiffle I dye.

Enter Frier, with Lanthorne, crow, and spade.

Fri. Saint Francis be my ſpeed; how oft to night
Have my old feet ſlumbled at graves ! Who's there?

L

Balt.

The most lamentable Tragedy

Balt. Here's one, a friend, and one that knowes you well.

Fri. Bliffe be upon you: Tell me good my friend
What torch is yond that vainly lends his light
To grubs and eyeleſſe skulls : as I diſcerne,
It burneth in the Capels monument.

Balt. It doth so holy Sir, and there's my Maſter, one that you
love.

Fri. Who is it?

Balt. Romeo.

Fri. How long hath he bin there?

Balt. Full halte an houre.

Fri. Goe with me to the vault.

Balt. I dare not fir.

My Maſter knowes not but I am gone hence;
And fearefully did menace me with death,
If I did ſtay to looke on his intents.

Fri. Stay then, Ile goe alone, ſeare comes upon me,
O much I ſeare ſome ill unlucky thing.

Balt. As I did ſleep under this young tree here,
I dreamt my Maſter and another fought,
And that my Maſter flew him.

Fri. Romeo.

Alacke, alacke, what blood is this which flaines

The ſtony entrance of this ſepulcher?
What meane theſe maſterleſſe and goarie ſwords,
To lye diſcolour'd by this place of peace?

Romeo, oh pale! who elſe? what Paris too?

And ſleep in blood ? ah what an unkinde houre

Is guilty of this lamentable chance.

The Lady ſtirres.

Jul. O comfortable Frier, where is my Lord?
I doe remember well where I should be,
And there I am: where is my Romeo?

Fri. I heare ſome noife Lady, come from that neſt.
Of death, contagion, and unnaturall ſleepe :
A greater power than we can contradict.

Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away,

Thy

of Romeo and Juliet.

Thy husband in thy boſome there lyes dead,
And Paris too: come, Ile diſpofe of thee
Among a ſifter-hood of holy Nunnes.

Stay not to queſtion, for the watch is comming,
Come, goe good Juliet, I dare no longer stay.

Exit.

Jul. Goe get thee hence, for I will not away.
What's here? a cup clos'd in my true loves hand?
Poyſon I fee hath been his timeleſſe end :
O churle ! drinke all, and leave no friendly drop
To helpe me after: I will kiffe thy lips,
Haply ſome poyſon yet doth hang on them,
To make me dye with a reſtorative.
Thy lips are warme.

Enter Boy and Watch.

Watch. Lead boy, which way?

Jul. Yea noife ? then Ile be briefe. O happy dagger,
This is thy ſheath, there ruſt, and let me dye.

Boy. This is the place, there where the torch doth burne.

Watch. The ground is bloody, ſearch about the Churchyard.
Goe ſome of you, who ere you find attach.

Pitifull fight ! here lyes the County flaine,
And Juliet bleeding, warme, and newly dead,
Who here hath laine theſe two daies buried.
Goe tell the Prince, runne to the Capulets,
Raife up the Mountagues: ſome others ſearch;
We ſee the ground whereon theſe woes doe lye,
But the true ground of all theſe piteous woes
We cannot without circumſtance deſery.

Enter Romeo's man.

Watch. Here's Romeo's man, we found him in the Churchyard.
Chieſe Watch. Hold him in safety till the Prince come hither.

Enter Frier and another Watchman.

3. Watch. Here is a Frier that trembles, ſighes, and weepes,

We

L 2

The most lamentable Tragedy

We took this Mattocke and this spade from him,

As he was comming from this Churchyard fide.

Chiefw. A great Suspicion, flay the Frier too.

Enter Prince.

Prin. What misadventure is so early up.

That calls our person from our mornings rest?

Enter Capulet and his Wife.

Ca. What should it be that they so strike abroad?

Wife. O the people in the street cry Romeo,

Some Juliet, and some Paris, and all runne

With open outcry toward our Monument.

Prin. What teare is this which startles in your eares?

Watch. Soveraigne, here Iyes the County Paris flaine,

And Romeo dead, and Juliet dead before,

Warme and new kill'd.

Prin. Search, seeke, and know how this foule murder comes,

Watch. Here is a Frier, and floughtred Romeo's man,

With instruments upon them fit to open

These dead mens tombes.

Cap. O heaven! O wife! looke how our daughter bleeds!

This dagger hath misf'te, for lo his house

Is empty on the backe of Mountague,

And is misheathed in my daughters bofome.

Wi. O me, this fight of death is as a Bell,

That warnes my old age to a Sepulcher.

Enter Mountague.

Prin. Come Mountague, for thou art early up,

To see thy fonne and heire now early downe.

Moun. Alas my Liege, my wife is dead to night,

Griefe of my fonnes exile hath flopt her breath;

What further woe conspires against my age?

Prin. Looke and thou fhalt fee.

Mou. O thou untaught ! what manners is in this,

To prefle before thy father to a grave?

Pri. Scale up the mouth of outrage for a while,

Till we can cleare these ambiguities,

And know their spring, their head, their true descent,

And

of Romeo and Juliet.

And then will I be Generall of your woes,

And lead you even to death: meane time forbeare,

And let mischance be flave to patience.

Bring forth the parties of Suspicion.

Fri. I am the greatest, able to doe leaf,

Yet moft suspected, as the time and place

Doe make against me, of this direfull murder;

And here I stand, both to impeach and purge

My selfe condemned, and my selfe excus'd.

Pri. Then say at once what thou doft know in this.

Fri. I will be briefe, for my short date of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.

Romeo there dead was husband to that Juliet,

And she there dead that Romeo's faithfull wife;

I married them, and their folne marriage day

Was Tibalts doomefday; whose untimely death

Banifht the new made Bridegroome from this City,

For whom, and not for Tibalt, Juliet pin'd.

You, to remove that fiege of griefe from her,

Betro'd, and would have married her perforce,

To County Paris. Then comes she to me,

And with wild lookses bid me devife some meanes

To rid her from this second Marriage,

Or in my Cell there would she kill her selfe.

Then gave I her (so tuter'd by my Art)

A fleeping potion, which so tooke effect

As I intended; for it wrought on her

The forme of death: meane time I writ to Romeo

That he should hither come as this dire night,

To helpe to take her from her borrowed grave,

Being the time the potions force should cease.

But he which bore my letter, Frier John,

Was flayed by accident, and yefternight

Return'd my letter backe: then all alone,

At the prefixed honre of her waking

Came I to take her from her kindreds vault,

Meaning to keepe her clofely at my Cell.

The most lamentable Tragedy

Till I conveniently could send to Romeo.
But when I came some minute ere the time
Of her awaking, here untimely lay
The noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.
She wakes, and I entreated her come forth,
And beare this worke of heaven with patience:
But then a noife did scare me from the tombe,
And she too desperate would not goe with me,
But as it seemes did violence on her selfe.
All this I know, and to the marriage the Nurse is privie:
And if ought in this miscarried by my fault,
Let my old life be sacrific'd some hour before the time,
Unto the rigour of severest law..

Pri. We still have knowne thee for a holy man.
Where's Romeo's man? what can he say to this?

Bal. I brought my Maſter newes of Juliets death,
And then in poſt he came from Mantua

To this fame place, to this fame monument :
This letter he earely bid me give his Father,
And threatned me with death going in the vault,
If I departed not and left him there.

Pri. Give me the letter, I will looke on it.
Where is the Counties Page that rais'd the Watch?
Sirrah, what made your Maſter in this place?

Boy. He came with flowers to fltrew his Ladies grave,
And bid me fland aloofe; and so I did :
Anon comes one with light to ope the tombe,
And by and by my Maſter drew on him,
And then I ran away to call the watch.

Pri. This letter doth make good the Friars words,
Their course of love, the tidings of her death;
And here he writes that he did buy a poyſon
Of a poore Pothecary, and therewithall
Came to this vault, to dye and lye with Juliet.

Where be these enemies? Capulet, Mountague,
See what a ſcourge is laid upon your hate,
That heaven findes meanes to kill your joyes with love;

And

of Romeo and Juliet.

And I for winking at your discords too
Have loſt a braſe of Kinſmen : all are puniſht.

Cap. O brother Mountague, give me thy hand ;
This is my daughters jointure, for no more
Can I demand.

Moun. But I can give thee more:
For I will raiſe her ſtature in pure gold,
That whiles Verona by that name is knowne,
There ſhall no figure at that rate be ſet,
As that of true and faithfull Juliet.

Cap. As rich ashall Romeo's by his Ladies lye :
Poore ſacrifices of our enmity.

Pri. A glooming peace this morning with it brings :
The ſun for ſorrow will not ſhow his head.

Goe hence to have more talke of these ſad things.
Some ſhall be pardoned, and some punished.

For never was a Storie of more woe,
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

FINIS.