# The Prologue.

Corus.

Two households both alike in dignitie,
(In faire Verona where we lay our Scene)

From auncient grudge, breake to new mutinie,
Where ciuill bloud makes ciuill hands uncleane:

From forth the fatall loynes of these two foes,
A paire of starre-croft louers, take their life.

Whose misaduentur'd pittious ouerthrowes,
Doth with their death burie their Parents strife.

The fearfull passage of their death-markt loue,
And the continuance of their Parents rage:

Which but their childrens end nought could remoue:
Is now the two heures trafficque of our Stage.

The which if you with patient eares attend,

What heare shall misse, our toyle shall striue to mend.

A 2

THE MOST EX-
cellent and lamentable

Tragedie, of Romeo and Juliet.

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

Samp. Gregorie, on my word weele not carrie Coles.
Greg. No, for then we should be Collyers.
Samp. I meane, and we be in choller, weele draw.
Greg. I while you liue, draw your necke out of choller.
Samp. I ftrike quickly being moued.
Greg. But thou art not quickly moued to ftrike.
Samp. A dog of the house of Mountague moues me.
Greg. To moue is to ftrre, and to be valiant, is to stand:
Therefore if thou art moued thou runft away.
Samp. A dog of that house shall moue me to stand:
I will take the wall of any man or maide of Mounta-
gues.

Greg. That fhowes thee a weake flaue, for the weakeft goes
to the wall.

Samp. Tis true, & therfore women being the weaker veffels
are euer thruft to the wall: therfore I will pufh Mountagues men
from the wall, and thruft his maides to the wall.

Greg. The squarell is betweene our maifters, and vs their
men.

Samp. Tis all one, I will fhow my felfe a tyrant, when I haue
fought with the men, I will be civil with the maides, I will cut
off their heads.

A 3

Grego, The

The most lamentable Tragedie

Greg. The heads of the maids.

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

Greg. They must take it fense that feele it.

Samp. Me they shall feele while I am able to stand, and tis
knowne I am a pretty peeece of fesh.

Greg. Tis well thou art not fish, if thou hadst, thou hadst bin
poore John: draw thy toole, here comes of the house of Mount-
tagues.

Enter two other serving men.

Samp. My naked weapon is out, quarell, I will back thee.

Greg. How, turne thy backe and runne?

Samp. Feare me not.

Greg. No marrie, I feare thee.

Sam. Let vs take the law of our fides, let them begin.

Gre. I will frown as I paffe by, and let them take it as they lift.

Samp. Nay as they dare, I wil bite my thumb at them, which
is difgrace to them if they beare it.

Abram. Do you bite your thumbe at vs fir?

Samp. I do bite my thumbe fir.

Abra. Do you bite your thumb at vs fir?

Samp. Is the law of our fide if I say I?

Greg. No.

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

Greg. Do you quarell fir?

Abra. Quarell fir, no fir.

Sá. But if you do fir, I am for you, I ferue as good a ma as you.

Abra. No better.

Samp. Well fir.

Enter Benuolio.

Greg. Say better, here comes one of my maifters kinfmen.

Sam. Yes better fir.

Abra. You lie.

Samp. Draw if you be men, Gregorie, remember thy washing
blowe.

They fight.

Benuo. Part fooles, put vp your fwords, you know not what
you do.

Enter

of Romeo and Juliet.

Enter Tibalt.

Tibalt. What art thou drawne among these hartlesse hindest
turne thee Benuolio, looke vpon thy death.

Benuo. I do but keepe the peace, put vp thy sword,
or manage 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:
Haue at thee coward.

Enter three or foure Citizens with Clubs or party fonts.

Offi. Clubs, Bils and Partifons, strike, beate them downe,
Downe with the Capulets, downe with the Mountagues.

Enter old Capulet in his gowne, and his wife.

Capu. What noyfie is this? giue me my long sword hoe.

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

Cap. My sword I say, old Mountague is come,
And florifies his blade in spight of me.

Enter old Mountague and his wife.

Mount. Thou villaine Capulet, hold me not, let me go.

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

Enter Prince Eskales, with his traine.

Prince. Rebellious subjeets enemies to peace,
Prophaners of this neighbour-loyed steele,
Will they not heare? what ho, you men, you beafts:

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage,
With purple fountaines diffuing from your veines:

On paine of torture from thofe bloudie hands,
Throw your miſtempered weapons to the ground,
And heare the ſentence of your moued Prince.

Three ciuill brawles bred of an ayrie word,
Bythee old Capulet and Mountague,

Hauë thrice diffurbd the quiet of our streets,
And made Neronas auncient Citizens,

Caft by their graue befeeming ornaments,

Towield old partizans, in hand, as old,
Cancred with peace, to part your cancred hate,

Ifueu you diffurbe our streets againe,

Your

The most lamentable Tragedie

Your lies shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

For this time all the rest depart away:

You Capulet shall go along with me,

And Mountague come you this afternoon,

To know our farther pleasure in this cafe:

To old Free-towne, our common judgement place:

Once more on paine of death, all men depart.

Exeunt.

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

Ben. Here were the seruants of your aduerfarie

And yours, close fighting ere I did approach,

I drew to part them, in the instant came

The fierie Tybalt, with his word preparde,

Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares,

He fwoong about his head and cut the windes,

Who nothing hurt withall, lift him in fcorne:

While we were enterchaunging thrifts 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, saw you him to day?

Right glad I am, he was not at this fray.

Benuo. Madam, an houre before the worftshipt Sun,

Peerde forth the golden window of the East,

A troubled minde drive me to walke abroad,

Where vnderneath the groue of Syramour,

That Westward rooteth from this Citie fide:

So early walking did I fee your fonne,

Towards him I made, but he was ware of me,

And Stole into the couert of the wood,

I measuring his affections by my owne,

Which then moft fought, where moft might not be

Being one too many by my wearie ſelfe,

Purfued my humor, not purfuing his,

And gladly flunned, who gladly fled from me.

Mounta. Many a morning hath he there bin ſeene,

With

of Romeo and Juliet.

With teares augmenting the fresh mornings deawe,

Adding to cloudes, more clowdes with his deepe fighes,

But all to ſoone, as the alcheering Sunne,

Should in the fartheſt East begin to draw,

The ſhadie curtaines from Auroras bed,

Away from light ſteales home my heauie ſonne,

And priuate in his Chamber pennes himſelfe,

Shuts vp his windowes, locks faire day-light out,

And makes himſelſe an artificiall night:

Blacke and portendous muſt this humor proue,

Vnleſſe good counſell may the cauſe remoue.

Ben. My Noble Vncle do you know the cauſe?

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

Ben. Haue you importunde him by any meanes?

Moun. Both by my ſelfe and many other friends,

But he is owne affections counſeller,

I to himſelfe (I will not ſay how true)

But to himſelfe ſo ſecret and ſo cloſe,

So farre from founding and diſcouerie,

As is the bud bit with an enuious worme,

Ere he can ſpread his ſweete leaues to the ayre,

Or dedicate his bewtie to the fame.

Could we but learne from whence his forſores grow,

We would as willingly giue cure as know.

Enter Romco.

Benu. See where he comes, ſo please you ſtep aside,

Ile know his greeuance or be much denide.

Moun. I would thou wert ſo happie by thy ſtay,

To heare true ſhrift, come Madam lets away.

Exeunt.

Benuol. Good morrow Couſin.

Romeo. Is the day ſo young?

Ben. But new ſtrooke nine.

Romeo. Ay me, ſad houres ſeeme long:

Was that my father that went hence ſo East?

Ben. It was: what ſadneſſe lengthens Romeos houres?

B

Rom. Not

The most lamentable Tragedie

Ro. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes the short.

Ben. In loue.

Rom. Out.

Ben. Of loue.

Rom. Out of her fauour where I am in loue.

Ben. Alas that loue so gentle in his view,

Should be so tirannous and rough in proofe.

Romeo. Alas that loue, whose view is muffled still,

Should without eyes, see pathwaies to his will:

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

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

Heres much to do with hate, but more with loue:

Why then I brawling loue, I louing hate,

O any thing of nothing first created:

O heauie lightneſſe, ſerious vanitie,

Mishapen Chaos of well seeing formes,

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

Still waking sleepe that is not what it is.

This loue feele I, that feele no loue in this,

Doeſt thou not laugh?

Bena. No Coze, I rather weepe.

Rom. Good hart at what?

Benn. At thy good hart oppreſſion.

Romeo. Why ſuch is loues transſcription:

Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breast,

Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preaſt,

With more of thine, this loue that thou haſt (showne),

Doth ad more griefe, too too much of mine owne.

Loue is a ſmoke made with the fume of ſighes,

Being purged, a fire sparkling in louers eies,

Being vext, a ſea nourisht with louing teares,

What is it else? a madneſſe, moſt dereſeete,

A choking gall, and a prefering ſweete:

Farewell my Coze.

Ben. Soft! I will go along:

And if you leaue me so, you do me wrong.

But

of Romeo and Juliet.

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

This is not Romeo, hees some other where.

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

Ro. What shall I grone and tell thee?

Ben. Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who?

Ro. A ſicke man in sadneſſe makes his will:

A word ill vrgd to one that is so ill:

In sadneſſe Cozin, I do loue a woman.

Ben. I aymde so neare, when I ſuppofde you lou'd.

Ro. A right good mark man, and ſhees faire I loue.

Ben. A right faire marke faire Coze is ſooneſt hit.

Romeo. Well in that hit you miſſe, ſheel not be hit

With Cupids arrow, ſhe hath Dians wit:

And in ſtrong proofe of chaſtitie well armd,

From loues weak childſh bow the liues vncharmd.

Shee will not stay the ſiege of louing tearmes,

Nor bide th'incounter of affailing eies.

Nor ope her lap to faint ſeducing gold,

O she is rich, in bewtie onely poore,

That when the dies, with bewtie dies her ſtore.

Ben. The ſhe hath ſworn, that ſhe will ſtul liue chaſte:

Ro. She hath and in that ſparing, make huge wafe:

For bewtie ſteru'd with her ſeueritie,

Cuts bewtie off from all poſteritie.

She is too faire, too wife, wiserly too faire,

To merit bliffe by making me diſpaire:

Shee hath for ſworne to loue, and in that vow,

Do I liue dead, that lue to tell it now.

Ben. Be rulde by me, forget to thinke of her.

Rg. O teach me how I should forget to thinke.

Ben. By giuing libertie vnto thine eyes,

Examine other bewties.

Ro. Tis the way to call hers (exquifit) in queſtion more,

Theſe happie maskes that kis faire Ladies browes,

Being black, puts vs in mind they hide the faire:

He that is ſtrooken blind, cannot forget

B 2

The

The moft lamentable Tragedie

The precious treasure of his eye-sight loft,
Shew me a miftresse that is pafling faire,
What doth her bewtie ſerue but as a note,
Where I may reade who paſt that paſſing faire:
Farewel, thou canſt not teach me to forſet,

Ben. Ile pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.

Exeunt.

Capu. But Mountague is bound as well as I,
In penaltie alike, and tis not hard I thinke,
For men so old as we to keepe the peace.

Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both,
And pittrie tis, you liu'd at ods so long:
But now my Lord, what say you to my ſute?

Capu. But faying ore what I haue ſaid before,
My child is yet a ſtraunger in the world,
Shee hath not ſeene the chaunge of fourteen yeareſ,
Let two more Sommers wither in their pride,
Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a bride.

Pari. Younger then ſhe, are happie mothers made.

Capu. And too ſoon e mard are thofe ſo early made:
Earth hath ſwallowed all my hopes but ſhe,

Shees the hopeful Lady of my earth:

But wooe her gentle Paris, get her hart,
My will to her conſent, is but a part.

And ſhee agreed, within her ſcope of choife

Lyes my conſent, and faire according voyce:

This night I hold, an old accuſtomed ſaſt,

Whereto I haue inuited many a gueſt:

Such as I loue, and you among the ſtore,

One more, moſt welcome makes my number more:
At my poore houſe, looke to behold this night,

Earthreading ſtarres, that make darke heauen light:

Such comfort as do luſtie young men feele,

When well apparell'd Aprill on the heele,

Of limping winter treads, euen ſuch delight

Among fresh ſennell buds ſhall you this night

Inherit at my houſe, heare all, all ſee:

And

of Romeo and Juliet.

And like her moſt, whoſe merit moſt ſhall bee?

Which one more view, of many, mine being one,
May ſtand in number, though in reckning none.

Come go with me, go firrah trudge about,

Through faire Verona, find thoſe perſons out,
Whoſe names are written there, and to them ſay,
My houſe and welcome, on their pleafure ſtay.

Exit.

Seru. Find them out whoſe names are written. Here it is written, that the ſhoo-maker ſhould meddle with his yard, and the tayler with his laſt, the ſiſher with his penſill, & the painter with his nets. But I am ſent to find thoſe perſons whoſe names are here writ, and can neuer find what names the writing perſon hath here writ (I muſt to the learned) in good time.

Enter Benuolio, and Romeo.

Ben. Tut man, one fire burnes out, an others burning,
On paine is leſned by an others anguifh,

Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning:

One desperate greeſe, cures with an others languifh:

Take thou ſome new inſection to thy eye,

And the rancke poyſon of the old will dye.

Romeo. Your Plantan leaſe is excellent for that.

Ben. For what I pray thee?

Romeo. For your broken ſhin.

Ben. Why Romeo, art thou mad?

Rom. Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is:
Shut vp in prifon, kept without my fooſe,

Whipt and tormented, and Godden good ſellow.

Ser. Godgigoden, I pray fir can you read?

Rom. I mine owne fortune in my miſerie.

Ser. Perhaps you haue learned it without booke:

But I pray can you read any thing you ſee?

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

Ser. Yee ſay honeſtly, reſt you merrie.

Rom. Stay ſellow, I can read.

B 3

He

The moſt lamentable Tragedie
He reades the Letter.

SEigneur Martino, & his wife and daughters: Countie Anſelme and his bewtions ſifters: the Lady widdow of Vtruuio, Seigneur Placentio, and his louely Neece: Mercutio and his brother Valentine: mine Uncle Capulet his wife and daughters: my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia, Seigneur Valentio, and his Cofen Ty balt: Lucie and the lulye Hellena.

A faire aslemblie, whither should they come?

Ser. Vp.

Rg. Whither to ſupper?

Ser. To our house.

Rg. Whofe house?

Ser. My Maifters.

Ro. Indeed I should haue askt you that before.

Ser. Nowile tell you without asking. My maifter is the great
rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Mountagues, I
pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merrie.

Ben. At this fame ancient feast of Capulets,
Supp the faire Rosaline whom thou so loues:

With all the admired beauties of Verona,
Go thither, and with vnattainted eye,
Compare her face with some that I shall ſhow,
And I will make thee thinke thy ſwan a crow.

Rg. When the devout religion of mine eye,
Maintaines ſuch falſhood, then turne teares to fier:
And theſe who often drownde, could neuer die,
Transparent Hereticques he burnt for liers.
One fairer then my loue, the all ſeeing Sun,
Nere ſaw her match, ſince firſt the world begun.

Ben. Tut you ſaw her faire none else being by,
Her ſelſe poyſd with her ſelſe in either eye:
But in that Chriſtall ſcales let there be waide,
Your Ladies loue againſt some other maide:
That I will ſhew you ſhining at this ſeale,
And ſhe ſhall ſcant ſhew well that now ſeemes beſt.

Ro. Ile go along no ſuch ſight to be ſhow me,

But

of Romeo and Iuliet.

But to reioyce in ſplendor of mine owne.

Enter Capulets Wife and Nurſe.

Wife. Nurſe wher's my daughter? call her forth to me.

Nurſe. Now by my maſidenhead, at twelve years old I had her
come, what Lamb, what Ladie-bird, God forbid,
Where's this Girle? what Iuliet.

Enter Iuliet.

Iuliet. How now who calls?

Nur. Your mother.

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

Wife. This is the matter. Nurſe giue leaue a while, we muſt talk in ſecret. Nurſe come backe againe, I haue remembred mee, thou ſle heare our counsel. Thou knoweſt my daughters of a pre-rie age.

Nurſe. Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre.

Wife. Shee's not fourteene.

Nurſe. Ile lay fourteene of my teeth, and yet to my teene be it
ſpoken, I hane but ſoure, ſhees not fourteene.

How long is it now to Lammas tide?

Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes.

Nurſe. Euen or odde, of all daies in the yeare come Lammas Eue at
night ſtal ſhe be fourteen. Sufan and ſhe, God reſt all Christian ſoules,
were of an age. Well Sufan is with God, ſhe was too good for me: But
as I ſaid, on Lammas Eue at night ſhall ſhe be fourteene, that ſhall
ſhe marrie, I remember it well. Tis since the Earth-quake, now
eleuen yeares, and ſhe was weand I neuer ſhall forget it, of all the daies
of the yeare upon that day: for I had then laide worme-wood to my
dug, sitting in the sun under the Dowe-house wall. My Lord and
you were then at Mantua, nay I doo beare a braine. But as I ſaid,
when it did tafie the worme-wood on the nipple of my dug, and
felt it butter, pretie foolc, to ſee it teachie and fall out with the Dugge.
Shake quoth the Dowe-house, I was no need Irow to bid me trudge:
and since that time it is a leuen yeares, for then ſhe could ſtand hylone,
nay byth roode ſhe could haue run and waddled all about: for euen
the day before ſhe broke her brow, and then my husband, God be with
his

The most lamentable Tragedie

his soule, a was a merrie man, tooke vp the child, yea quoth he, dolt
thou fall vpon thy face? thou wilt fall backward when thou haſt more
wit, wilt thou not Iule? And by my holydam, the pretty wretch left
crying, and said I: to see now how a seaſt shall come about: I warrant,
and I should liue a thouſand yeares, I neuer should forget it: wilt thou
not Iule quoth he ? and pretie foole it ſtinted, and said I.

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

Nurse. Yes Madam, yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to thinke it
should leaue crying, and say I: and yet I warrant it had vpon it brow,
a bump as big as a young Cockrels stone: a perillous knock, and it cryed
bitterly. Yea quoth my husband, fallſt vpon thy face, thou wilt fall
backward when thou commes to age: wilt thou not Iule? It ſtinted,
and said I.

Iuli. And ſtint thou too, I pray thee Nurse, say I.

Nurse. Peace I haue done: God marke thee too his grace, thou
waſt the prettieſt babe that ere I nurſe, and I might liue to see thee
married once, I haue my wif.

Old La. Marie, that marrie is the very theame
I came to talke of, tell me daughter Iuliet,
How ſtands your diſpoſitions to be married?

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

Nurse. An houre, were not I thinke onely Nurse, I would ſay then
hadſt suckt wifedome from thy teate.

Old La. Well thinke of marriage now, yonger then you
Here in Verona, Ladies of eſteeme,
Are made alreadie mothers by my count.
I was your mother, much vpon theſe yeares

That you are now a maide, thus then in briefe:
The valiant Paris ſeekeſ you for his loue.

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

Old La. Veronas Sommer hath not ſuch a flower.

Nurse. Nay hees a flower, in faith a very flower.

Old La. What ſay you, can you loue the Gentleman?
This night you ſhall behold him at our feaſt,
Reade ore the volume of young Paris face,

And

of Romeo and Iuliet.

And find delight, writ there with bewtieſ pen,
Examine euery married liniament,

And ſee how one an other lends content:

And what obſcurde in this faire volume lies,

Finde written in the margeant of his eyes.

This precious booke of loue, this vnbound louer,
To bewtifie him, onely lacks a Couer.

The fifth liues in the sea, and tis much pride.

For faire without the faire, within to hide:

That booke in manie eyes doth share the glorie

That in gold clafpes locks in the golden ſtorie:

So ſhall you share all that he doth poſſeſſe,

By hauing him, making your ſelfe no leſſe.

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

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

Iuli. Ile looke to like, if looking liking moure.

But no more deepe will I endart mine eye,

Then your conſent giues ſtrength to make ſlie. Enter. Seruing.

Ser. Madam the gueſts are come, ſupper ſeru'd vp, you cald,
my young Lady askt for, the Nurſe curſt in the Pantrie, and e-
uerie thing in extremitie: I muſt hence to wait, I beſeech you
follow ſtraight.

Mo. We follow thee, Iuliet the Countie ſtaies.

Nur. Go gyrler, ſeeke happy nights to happie dayes.

Exeunt.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with fine or ſixe other
Maskers, torchbearers.

Romeo. What ſhall this ſpeech be ſpoke for our excufe?
Or ſhall we on without appologie?

Ben. The date is out of ſuch prolixitie,
Weele haue no Cupid, hudwinckt with a skarſe,
Bearing a Tartars painted bow of lath,
Skaring the Ladies like a Crowkeeper.
But let them meaſure vs by what they will,
Weele meaſure them a meaſure and be gone.

Rom. Giue me a torch, I am not for this ambling,

C

Being

The most lamentable Tragedie

Being but heauie I will beare the light.

Mercu. Nay gètle Romeo, we must haue you dance.

Rq. Not I believe me, you haue dancing shooes

With nimble soles, I have a foule of Leade

So ftakes me to the ground I cannot moue.

Mer. You are a Louer, borrow Cupids wings,

And fore with them aboue a common bound.

Rom. I am too fore enpeared with his shaft,

To fore with his light feathers, and so bound,

I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe,

Under loues heauie birthen do I sincke.

Horatio. And to sink in it should you burthen loue,

Too great oppreffion for a tender thing.

Rom. Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough,

Too rude, too boystrous, and it pricks like thorne.

Mer. If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue

Prick loue for pricking, and you beate loue downe,

Giue me a cafe to put my visage in.

A vifor for a vifor, what care I

What curious eye doth cote deformities

Here are the beetle browes shall blush for me.

Benu. Come knock and enter, and no sooner in,

But every man betake him to his legs.

Ro. A torch for me, let wantons light of heart

Tickle the fenceleſſe rufſes with their heeles :

For I am prouerbd with a graunſire phraſe,

Ile be a candle-holder and looke on,

The game was nere to faire, and I am dome

Mer. Tut, duns the mouſe, the Conſtables own word:

If thou art dun, weele draw thee from the mire

Or faue you reuerence loue, when ein thou ſtickeſt

Vp to the cares, come we burne daylight ho.

Ro. Nay, that's not so.

Mer. I meane ſir in delay.

We waſte our lights in vaine, lights lights by day:

Take our good meaning, for our indgement ſits,

Fine

of Romeo and Juliet.

Five times in that, ere once in our fine wits.

Rq. And we meane well in going to this Mask,
But us no wit to go.

Mer. Why, may one aske?

Rom. I dreamt a dreame to night.

Mer. And so did I.

Ro. Well what was yours?

Mer. That dreamers often lie.

Ro. In bed aſleep while they do dream things true.

Mer. O then I fee Queene Mab hath bin with you:

She is the Fairies midwife, and ſhe comes in ſhape no bigger than
an Agot ſtone, on the forefinger of an Alderman, drawne with
a teeme of little ottamie, ouer mens noſes as they lie aſleep: her
wagg ſpokes made of lög ſpinners legs; the couer, of the wings
of Graſhoppers, her traces of the ſmallest ſpider web, her collors
of the moonſhines watry beams; her whip of Crickets bones; the
lath of Philome, her waggoner, a ſmall grey coated Gnat, not
half so big as a round litle worme, prickt from the lazie finger of
a man. Her Charriot is an emptie Hafel nut; Made by the loyner
ſquirrel or old Grub, time out amind, the Fairies Coatchmakers:
and in this ſtate ſhe gallops night by night, throught louers brains,
and then they dreame of loue. On Courtiers knees, that dreame
on Curiſes ſtraint, ore Lawyers fingers who ſtraint dreame on ſees,
ore Ladies lips who ſtraint one kittles dream, which oft the angrie
Mab with blifteres plagues, becaufe their breath with ſweete
meates tainted are. Sometime ſhe gallops ore a Courtiers noſe,
and then dreames he of ſmelling out a ſute: and sometime comes
ſhe with a tithpigs tale, tickling a Perſons noſe as a lies aſleepe,
then he dreams of an other Benefice. Sometime ſhe drineth ore
a ſouldiers neck, and then dreames he of cutting forrain throates,
or breathe, rambuſcados, ſpanish blades: Of healths ſive fadome
deepe, and then anon drums in his ear, at which he starts and
wakes, and being thus frighted, ſwadeares a praei or two, & ſleeps
againe: this is that very Mab that plats the manes of horſes inthe
night: and bakes the Elklocks in foule fluttuth haires, which
once vntangled, much misfortune bodes.

C 2

This

The most lamentable Tragedie

This is the hag, when maides lie on their backs,
That preffes them and learnes them first to beare,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is the.

Romeo. Peace, peace, Mercutio peace,
Thou talkst 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 inconstant then the wind who wooes;
Euen now the frozen bosome of the North:
And being angerd puffes away from thence,
Turning his fide to the dewe dropping South.
Ben. This wind you talk of, blows vs from our felves,
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Ro. I feare too early, for my mind miſgives,
Some consequence yet hanging in the startes,
Shall bitterly begin his fearfull date,
With this nights rewards, and expire the terme
Of a deliſped life cloſe in my breſt:
By some vile ſofreit of untimely death:
But he that hath the fitrige of my course,
Direct my ſute, on luſtie 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 shifts a trencher, she scrapes a trencher?

I. When good manners shall lie all in one or two means nanus
And they vnwaſht too, tis a ſoule thing.

Ser. Away with the ioy nſtooles, remove the Courtcubbert,
looke to the plate, good thou, faue me a peeece of March-pane,
and as thou loues me, let the porter let in ſufan Grindstone, and
Nell, Anthonie and Potpan.

2. I. Boy

of Romeo and Juliet.

2. I boy readie.

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, chearely boyes,
Be brisk a while, and the longer liuer take all.

Exeunt.

Enter all the guests and gentlewomen to the
Maskers.

1. Capu. Welcome gentlemen, Ladies that haue their toes
Vnplagued with Cornes, will walke about with you:
Ah my miſſelles, which of you all
Will now denie to daunce, ſhe that makes daintie,
She Ile ſwear hath Corns: am I come neare ye now?
Welcome gentlemen, I haue ſene the day
That I haue worne a visor and could tell
A whispering tale in a faire Ladies eare:
Such as would please: tis gone, tis gone, tis gone,
You are welcome, gentlemen come, Mufitions play.

Musick playes and they dance.

A hall, a hall, give roome, and foote it gyrles,
More light you knaues, and turne the tables vp:
And quench the fire, the roome is growne too hot.
Ah firrah, this vnlookt for sport comes well:
Nay fit, nay fit, good Cozin Capulet,
For you and I are paft our dauncing dayes:
How long iſt now ſince laſt your ſelſe and I
Were in a maske?

2. Capu. Berlady thirtie yeares.

1. Capu. What man tis not so much, tis not so much,
Tis since the nuptiall of Lucientio:
Come Pentycoſt as quickly as it will,
Some ſue and twentie yeares, and then we maskt.

2. Capu. Tis more, tis more, his ſonne is elder fir.
His ſonne is thirtie.

1. Capu. Will you tell me that?
His ſonne was but a ward 2. yeares ago.

C 3

Romeo. What.

The most lamentable Tragedie

Ro. What Ladies that which doth enrich the hand
Of yonder Knight?

Ser. I know not fir.

Rg. Of the doth teach the torches to burn bright:
It seemes the hangs vpon the checke of night:

As a rich Iewel in an Ethiops care,
Bewtie too rich for vse, for earth too deare:

So showes a snowie Doue trooping with Crowes,
As yonder Lady ore her fellowes showes:

The meaure done, Ile watch her place of stand,
And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my hart loue till now, forswear we it fight,
For I nere saw true bewtie till this night.

Tibal. This by his voyce, should be a Mountague.

Fetch me my Rapier boy, what dares the flaue
Come hither couerd with an ancieque face,

To fleere and sorne at our solemnitie?

Now by the stocke and honor of my kin,
To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.

Capu. Why how now kinsman, wherefore sorme

Tib. Vncle, this is a Mountague our foe: (you so?

A villaine that is hither come in spight,
To sorne at our solemnitie this night.

Cap. Young Romeo is it?

Tib. Tis he, that villaine Romeo.

Capu. 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 welgouernd youth,

I would not for the wealth of all this Towne,
Here in my house do him disparagement:

Therefore be patient, take no note of him,

It is my will, the which if thou respet,

Shew a faire preſence, and put off theſe frownes,

An illbefeeming ſemblance for a feaſt.

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

Ile

of Romeo and Iuliet.

Ile not endure him.

Capu. He shall be endured.

What goodman boy, I say he shall, go too,

Am I the mafter here or you? go too,

Youle not endure him, god shall mend my ſoule,

Youle make a mutinie among my gueſts:

You wil let cock a hoope, youle be the man.

Tib. Why Vncle, tis a ſhame.

Capu. Go too, go too,

You are a ſawcie boy, it ſo indeed?

This trick may chance to ſcath you I know what,

You muſt contrarie me, marrie tis time,

Well ſaid my hearts, you are a princox, go,

Be quiet for, more light, more light for ſhame,

Ile make you quiet (what) chearely my hearts.

Tib. Patience perſorce, with wilfull choller meeting,
Makes my ſlesh tremble in their different greeting:

I will withdraw, but this intrusion ſhall

Now feeming ſweet, conduert to bittreſt gall. Exit.

Ro. If I prophane with my vnworthieſt hand,
This holy ſhrine, the gentle ſin is this,

My lips two bluſhing Pylgrims did readie ſtand,

To ſmoothe that rough touch with a tender kis.

Iu. Good Pilgrim you do wroſ your hād too much
Which mannerly deuocion ſhowes in this,

For ſaints haue hands, that Pilgrims hands do tuch,
And palme to palme is holy Palmers kis.

Rg. Haue not Saints lips and holy Palmers too?

Iuli. I Pilgrim, lipsthat they muſt vſe in praire.

Rom. O then deare Saint, let lips do what hands do,
They pray (grant thou) leaſt faith turne to diſpaire.

Iu. Saints do not moue, though grant for priaiers ſake.

Ro. Then moue not while my priaiers effect I take,
Thus from my lips, by thine my ſin is purged.

Iu. The haue my lips the ſin that they haue tooke.

Ro. Sin from my lips, ô trefpas ſweetly vrgd:

Giue.

The most lamentable Tragedie

Give me my sin againe.

Iuli. Youe kisse bith booke.

Nur. Madam your mother craues a word with you.

Ro. What is her mother?

Nurf. Marrie Batcheler,

Her mother is the Lady of the house,
And a good Ladie,and a wife and vertuous,
I Nurſt her daugh ter that you talkt with all:
I tell you,he that can lay hold of her
Shall haue the chincks.

Ro. Is she a Capulet?

O deare account ! my life is my foes debt.

Ben. Away begon, the sport is at the belt.

Ro. I so I feare, the more is my vnreft.

Capu. Nay gentlemen prepare not to be gone,
We haue a trifling foolish banquet towards:

Is it ene so? why then I thanke you all.

I thanke you honest gentlemen, good nights:
More torches here, come on, then lets to bed.

Ah sirrah, by my faie it waxes late,
Ile to my reft.

Iuli. Come hither Nurſe, what is yond gentleman?

Nurf. The fonne and heire of old Tyberio.

Iuli. What he that now is going out of doore?

Nur. Marrie that I thinke be young Petruchio.

Iu. What he that follows here that wold not dace?

Nur. I know not.

Iuli. Go aske his name, if he be married,
My graue is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurſ. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague,
The only fonne of your great enemie.

Iuli. My only loue sprung from my only hate,
Too earlie fecne, vnknowne, and knowne too late,
Prodigious birth of loue it is to mee,
That I muſt loue a loathed enemie.

Nurſ. What's tis? what's tis.

Im. A

of Romeo and Juliet.

Iu. A rime I learnt euen now
Of one I dan't with all.

One calt within Iuliet.

Nurſ. Anon, anon:
Come lets away, the strangers all are gone.

Exeunt.

Chorus.

Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie,
And young affection gapes to be his heire,
That faire for which loue gronde for and would die,
With tender Iuliet match, is now not faire.

Now Romeo is beloued, and loues againe,
Alike bewitched by the charme of looks:
But to his foe SUPPOFd he muſt complaine,
And the steale loues SWEETE bait from fearful hookes:

Being held a foe, he may not haue acceſſe
To breathe ſuch vowes as louers vſe to Sweare,
And ſhe as much in loue, her meanes much leſſe,
To meete her new beloued any where:

But paſſion lends them power, time meanes to meete,
Tempring extremities with extreme Sweete.

Enter Romeo alone.

Ro. Can I go forward when my heart is here,
Turne backe du'l earth and find thy Center out.

Enter Benuolio with Mercutio.

Ben. Romeo, my Cofen Romeo, Romeo.

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

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

Call good Mercutio :

Nay Ile coniure too.

Mer. Romeo, humours, madman, paſſion louer,
Appeare thou in the likenesse of a ſigh,

Speake but on rime and I am ſatisfied:

Crie but ay me, prouaunt, but loue and day,

Speake to my goſhip Venus one faire word,

One nickname for her purblind ſonne and her,

D

Young

The most lamentable Tragedie

Young Abraham: Cupid he that shot so true,
When King Cophetua lou'd the begger mayd.
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moueth not,
The Ape is dead, and I must coniure him.
I coniure thee by Rosalines bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her Scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quinuering thigh,
And the demeanes, that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likenesse thou appeare to vs.

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

Mer. This cannot anger him, twou'd anger him
To raife a spirit in his misresse circle,
Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
Till she had laid it, and continued it downe,
That were some spight.

My inuocation is faire & honest, in his misures name,
I coniure onely but to raife vp him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himselfe among these trees.
To be conforred with the humerous nighte:
Blind is his loue, and best befits the darkest.

Mar. If loue be blind, loue cannot hit the marke,
Now will he fit under a Medler tree,
And with his misresse were that kind of fruite,
As maides call Medlers, when they laugh alone.
O Romeo that she were, that she were
An open, or thou a Poprin Peare.

Romeo goodnight, ile to my truckle bed,
This field-bed is too cold for me to sleepe,
Come shall we go?

Ben. Go then, for tis in vaine to seeke him here
That means not to be found.

Exit.

Ro. He icafts at fearres that neuer felt a wound,
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun.

Arise faire Sun and kill the enuious Moone,
Who is alreadye fikke and pale with greefe,

That

of Romeo and Juliet.

That thou her maide art far more faire then she:
Be not her maide since she is enuious,

Her veftall liuery is but fikke and greene,
And none but fooles do weare it, caft it off:

It is my Lady, it is my loue, that she knew she wer,
She speakes, yet she faies nothing, what of that?
Her eye discourses, I will anſwere it:

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

Two of the fairest stars in all the heauen,
Hauing some busines to entreate her eyes,

To twinckle in their spheres till they returne.

What if her eyes were there, they in her head,
The brightnesſe of her cheek wold ſhame those stars,
As day-light doth a lampe, her eye in heauen,

Would through the ayrie region ſtreame so bright,
That birds would ſing, and thinke it were not night:

See how she leanes her cheeke vpon her hand.
O that I were a gloue vpon that hand,

That I might touch that cheeke.

In. Ay me.

Ro. She speakes.

Oh speake againe bright Angel, for thou art
As glorious to this night being ore my head,
As is a winged messenger of heauen

Vnto the white vpturned wondring eyes,
Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him,
When he beſtrides the lazie puffing Cloudes,
And ſayles vpon the bosome of the ayre.

Iuli. O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Denie thy father and refuse thy name:
Or if thou wilt not, be but ſworne my loue,

And ile no longer be a Capulet.

Ro. Shall I heare more, or shall I ſpeake at this?

In. Tis but thy name that is my enemie:
Thou art thy ſelfe, though not a Mountague,
What's Mountague? it is nor hand nor foote,

D 2

Nor

The most lamentable Tragedie

Nor am I nor face, ò 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 sweete,
So Romeo would were he not Romeo cold,
Retaine that deare perfection which he owes,
Without that tytle, Romeo doffe thy name,
And for thy name which is no part of thee,
Take all my selfe.

R. I take thee at thy word:
Call me but loue, and Ile be new baptiz'd,
Henceforth I neuer will be Romeo.

Iuli. What man art thou, that thus beschreend in
Softumblest on my counsell? (night

Rq. By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I
My name deare faint, is harefull to my selfe, ( am :
Because it is an enemie to thee,
Had I it written, I would teare the word.

Iuli. My eares haue yet not drunk a hundred words
Of thy tongus vitering, yet I know the found.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Mountague?

Rq. Neither faire maide, if either thee dislike.

Iuli. How camest thou hither, tel me, and wherfore
The Orchard walls are high and hard to climbe,
And the place death, confidering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

Ro. With loues light wings did I orepearch these
For ſtonie limits cannot hold loue out, (walls,
And what loue can do, that dares loue attempt :
Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.

Iu. If they do see thee, they will murther thee.

Ro. Alack there lies more perill in thine eye,
Then twentie of their ſwords, looke thou but sweete,
And I am proofe againſt their enemie.

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

Ro. 1

of Romeo and Iuliet.

Ro. I haue nights cloake to hide me from their ies,
And but thou loue me, let them finde me here,
My life were better ended by their hate,
Then death proroged wanting of thy loue.

Iu. By whose direction foundt thou out this place?

Rq. By loue that firſt did promp me to enquire,
He lent me counſell, and I lent him eyes:
I am no Pylat, yet wert thou as farre
As that vaſt ſhore waſheth with the fartheſt sea,
I should aduenture for ſuch marchandife.

Iu. Thou knowſt the mask of night is on my face,
Elſe would a maiden bluſh bepaint my cheeke,
For that which thou haſt heard me ſpeake to night,
Faine would I dwell on forme, ſaine, ſaine, denie
What I haue ſpoke, but farwell complement.
Doeſt thou loue me? I know thou wilt ſay I :
And I will take thy word, yet if thou swearſt,
Thou maiſt proue false at louers periuries,
They ſay Ioue laughes; oh gentle Romeo,
If thou doſt loue, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou thinkeſt I am too quickly wonne,
Ile frowne and be peruerſe, and ſay thee nay,
So thou wilt wooe, but else not for the world,
In truth faire Montague I am too ſond:

And therefore thou maiſt think my behauior light,
But truſt me gentleman, ile proue more true,
Then thatſe that haue coying to be ſtrange,
I should haue bene more ſtrange, I muſt confesse,
But that thou ouerheardſt ere I was ware,
My truloue paſſion, therefore pardon me,
And not impure this yeelding to light loue,
Which the darke night hath ſo diſcouered.

Ro. Lady, by yonder bleſſed Moone I vow,
That tips with ſiuer all theſe frute tree tops.

Iu. O swear not by the moone that inconstant moone,
That monethly changes in her circle orbe,

D 3

Left

The most lamentable Tragedie

Least that thy loue proue likewise variable.

Ro. What shall I fweare by?

In. Do not fweare at all:

Or if thou wilt, fweare by thy gracious selfe,
Which is the god of my Idolatrie,
And Ile bedecue thee:

Rg. If my hearts deare loue.

In. Well do not fweare, although Ioy in thee :
I have no joy of this contract to night,
It is too rash, too vnaduised, too fudden,

Too like the lightning which doth cease to bee,

Ere one can fay at lightens, fweete goodnight:

This bud of loue by Sommers ripening breath,
May proue a bewtious floure when next we meete,

Goodnight, goodnight, as fweete repofe and rest,
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast.

Rg. O wilt thou leaue me so vnfatfatisfied?

Iuli. What fatification canst thou haue to night?

Ro. Th'exchange of thy loues faithful vow for mine.

In. Igaue thee mine before thou didst requeft it:

And yet I would it were to giue againe.

Ro. Woldst thou withdraw it, for what purpose loue?

In. But to be franke and giue it thee againe,

And yet I will but for the thing I haue,

My bountie is as boundleſſe as the ſea,

My loue as deepc, the more I giue to thee

The more I haue, for both are infinite:

I heare some noy ſe within, deare loue adue:

Anon good nurſe, fweete Mountague be true:

Stay but a little, I will come againe.

Ro. O bleſſed bleſſed night, I am afeard

Being in night, all this is but a dreame,

Too flattering fweete to be ſubſtantiall.

In. Three words deare Romeo, & goodnight indeed,

If that thy bent of loue be honourable,

Thy purpose marriage, ſend me word to morrow,

By

of Romeo and Juliet.

By one that ile procure to come to thee,

Where and what time thou wilt performe the right,
And all my fortunes at thy foote ile lay,

And follow thee my L. throughout the world. Madam.

I come, anon: but if thou meaneſt not well,

I do beſeech thee (by and by I come) Madam.

To ceafe thy ſtrife, and leaue me to my griefe,
To morrow will I ſend.

Ro. So thrive my ſoule.

In. A thouſand times goodnight.

Ro. A thouſand times the worſe to want thy light,
Loue goes toward loue as schooleboyes from their bookes,
But loue from loue, toward schoole with heauie lookes.

Enter Juliet againe.

Iuli. Hift Romeo hift, for a falkners voyce,

To lure this Taffel gentle back againe,

Bondage is hoarſe, and may not ſpeake alone,

Elle would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies,

And make her ayrie tongue more hoarſe, then

With repetition of my Romeo,

Rg. It is my ſoule that calls vpon my name.

How filuer fweete, found louers tongues by night,
Like ſoffeſt muſicke to attending eares.

In. Romeo.

Ro. My Neece.

In. What a clocke to morrow

Shall I ſend to thee?

Ro. By the houre of nine.

In. I will not faile, tis twentie yeare till then,
I haue forgot why I did call thee backe.

Ro. Let me stand here till thou remember it.

In. I ſhall forget to haue thee ſtill stand there,

Remembring how I loue thy companie.

Ro. And Ile ſtill stay, to haue thee ſtill ſorger,
Forgetting any other home but this.

In. Tis almost morning, I would haue thee gone,
And yet no farther then a wantons bird,

That

The moft lamentable Tragedie

That lets it hop a little from his hand,
Like a poorie prisoner in his twisted guie,
And with a skilken threed, plucks it backe againe,
So louing jealous of his libertie.

Ro. I would I were thy bud.

In. Sweete so would I,

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing:
Good night, good night.

Parting is such sweete sorrow,

That I shall say good night, till it be morrow.

In. Sleep dwel vpon thine eyes, peace in thy breast.

Ro. Would I were sleepe and peace so sweet to rest

The grey eye deme smiles on the frowning night,
Cheekring the Eafterne Clouds with streaks of light,
And darknesse fleckted like a drunkard reeles.

From forth daies path, made by Tytian wheels.

Hence will I to my ghastly Friers close cell,
His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to tell.

Exit.

Enter Frier alone with a basket.

(night,

Fri. The grey-eyed morne smiles on the frowning
Checking the Eafterne clowdes with streaks of light:
And fleckeld darknesse like a drunkard reeles,

From forth daies path, and *Titans* burning wheels:

Now ere the fun aduance his burning eie,
The day to cheere, and nights dancke dewe to drie,
I muft vpfill this ofer cage of curs,

With balefull weedes, and precious iuyced flowers,

The earth that's natures mother is her tombe,

What is her burying graue, that is her wombe:

And from her wombe children of diuers kinde,

We fucking on her naturall boſome finde:

Many for many, vertues excellent:

None but for ſome, and yet all different.

O mickle is the powerfull grace that lies

In Plants, hearbes, ſtones, and their true quallities:

For

of Romeo and Juliet.

For nought so vile, that on the earth doth lie,
But to the earth some speciall good doth giue:

Nor ought so good but ſtraind from that faire vſe,
Reuolts from true birth, ſtumbling on abufe.

Vertue it ſelfe turnes vice being miſapplied,
And vice ſometime by action dignified.

Enter Romeo.

Within the infant rinde of this weake flower

Poy ſon hath refidence, and medicine power:

For this being ſmelt with that part, cheares each part,
Being taſted, itaies all ſences with the hart.

Two such oppoſed Kings encamp them ſtill,
In man as well as hearbes, grace and rude will:
And where the worſer is predominant,

Full ſoone the Canker death eates vp that Plant.

Ro. Goodmorrow father.

Fri. Benedicitie.

What early tongue so sweete Saluteth me?

Young ſonne, it argues a distempered hed,

So ſoone to bid goodmorrow to thy bed:

Care keepes his watch in euery old man's eye,

And where care lodges, sleepe will neuer lye:

But where vnbruſed youth with vnſtufft braine

Doth couch his limps, there golden sleepe doth raigne.

Therefore thy earlineſle doth me aſlure,

Thou art vprouſd with ſome diſtemprature:

Or if not so, then here I hit it right,

Our Romeo hath not bene in bed to night.

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

Fri. God pardon ſin, waſt thou with Rosaline?

Rs. With Rosaline, my ghastly father no,

I haue forgot that name, and that names wo.

Fri. That's my good ſon, but wher haſt thou bin thes?

Ro. Ile tell thee ere thou aske it me agen:

I haue bene feaſt with mine enemie,

Where on a ſudden one hath wounded me:

E

That's

The most lamentable Tragedie

Thats by me wounded, both our remedies

Within thy helpe and holy phisicke lies:

I beare no hatred blessed man: for loe

My intercession likewise steads my foe.

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

Ro. Then plainly know, my hartes deare loue is fet
On the faire daughter of rich Capulet:

As mine on hers, so hers is fet on mine,

And all combind, faue what thou muft combine

By holy marriage, when and where, and how,

We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vows.

He tell thee as we paffe, but this I pray,

That thou consent to marrie vs to day.

Fri. Holy St. Francis what a change is here?

Is Rosaline that thou didst loue so deare,

So foone forfaken? yong mens loue then lies

Not truly in their hearts, but in their eies.

Iesu Mariz, what a deale of brine

Hath waſt thy fallow cheekes for Rosaline?

How much salt water throwne away in waſte,

To season loue, that of it doth not tafe.

The Sun not yet thy sighes, from heauen cleares

Thy old grones yet ringing in mine auncient eares:

Lo here upon thy cheeke the staine doth fit,

Of an old teare that is not waſt off yet.

If ere thou waſt thy ſelfe, and these woes thine,

Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline.

And art thou chang'd, pronounce this ſentence then,

Women may fall, when there's no ſtrength in men.

Ro. Thou chidst me oft for louing Rosaline.

Fri. For doting, not for louing pupill mine.

Ro. And badst me burie loue.

Fri. Not in a graue,

To lay one in, another out to haue.

Ro. I pray thee chide me not, her I loue now.

Doth

of Romeo and Juliet.

Doth grace for grace, and loue for loue allow:

The other did not so.

Fri. O she, knew well,

Thy loue did reade by rote, that could not ſpell:

But come young wauerer, come go with me,

In one respect ile thy affrontant be:

For this alliance may so happie proue,

To turne your households rancor to pure loue.

Ro. O let vs hence, I stand on sudden haſt.

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

Exeunt.

Bnter Benuolio and Mercutio.

Mer. Where the deule ſhould this Romeo be? came hee 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. Tylbalt, the kisſman to old Capulet, hath ſent a letter to his
fathers house.

Mer. A challenge on my life.

Ben. Romeo will anſwere it.

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

Ben. Nay, he will anſwere the letters maſter how he dares, be-
ing dared.

Mercu. Alas poore Romeo, he is already dead, ſtabd with a
white wenches blacke eye, ſunne through the care with a loue
ſong, the very pinne of his heart, cleft with the blinde
bowe-boyes but-lhaft, and is hee a man to encounter Ty-
balt?

Ro. Why what is Tybalt?

Mer. More then Prince of Cats. Oh hees the couragious
captain of Complements: he fights as you ſing prick ſong, keeps
time, diſtance & proportion, he reſts, his minuſt reſts, one two,
and the third in your boſome : the very butcher of a filke but-
ton, a dualift a dualiſt, a gentleman of the very firſt house of the
firſt

E 2

The most lamentable Tragedie

First and second cause, ah the immortal Paffado, the Punto reuerfo, the Hay.

Ben. The what?

Mer. The Pox of such antique lifping affecting phantacies, these new tuners of accent : by Iesu a very good blade, a very tall man, a very good whore. Why is not this a lametable thing graund fir, that we should be thus afflicted with these ftraunge flies: these fashion-mongers, these pardons mees, who fand to much on the new forme, that they cannot fit 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 dried Hering, O flesh, flesh, how art thou ffiluſed? now is he for the numbers that Petrach flowed in: Laura to his Lady, was a kitchin wench, marrie she had a better loue to berime her: Dido a dowdie, Cleopatra a Gipsie, Hellen and Hero, hildings and harlots: Thisbie a grey eye or ſo, but not to the purpofe. Signior Romeo, Bonieur, there's a French salutation to your French ſlop: you gaue vs the counterfeit fairly laſt night.

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

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

Ro. Pardon good Mercutio, my busineſſe was great, and in such a cafe as mine, a man may ftraigne curtesie.

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

Ro. Meaning to curſie.

Mer. Thou haſt moſt kindly hit it.

Ro. A moſt curtuous exſposition.

Mer. Nay I am the very pinck of curtesie.

Ro. Pinck for flower.

Mer. Right.

Ro. Why then is my pump well flowerd.

Mer. Sure wit follow me this ialſt, now till thou haſt worne out thy pump, that when the single ſole of it is worne, the ialſt may remaine after the wearing. ſoly ſingular.

Ro. O

of Romeo and Juliet.

Ro. O single ſolde ialſt, ſolie ſingular for the ſinglenſe.

Mer. Come betweene vs good Benolio, my wits faints.

Ro. Swits and spurs, ſwits and spurres, or ile crie a match.

Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wildgoose chafe, I am done: For thou haſt more of the wildgoose in one of thy wits, then I am sure I haue in my whole ſiue. Was I with you there for the goose?

Ro. Thou waſt neuer with me for any thing, when thou waſt not there for the goose.

Mer. I will bite thee by the eare for that ialſt.

Rom. Nay good goofe bite not.

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

Rom. And is it not then well ſeu'd in to a ſweete goofe?

Mer. Oh heres a wit of Cheuerell, that ſtretches from an ynch narrow, to an ell broad.

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

Mer. Why is not this better now then groning for loue, now art thou ſociable, now art thou Romeo: now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature, for this driueling loue is like a great natural that runs lolling vp and downe to hide his bable in a hole.

Ben. Stop there, ſlop there.

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

Ben. Thou wouldſt eſſe haue made thy tale large.

Mer. O thou art deceiu'd, I would haue made it ſhort, for I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupie the argument no longer.

Ro. Heeres goodly geare.

Enter Nurse and her man.

A fayle, a fayle.

Mer. Two two, a ſhert and a ſmocke.

Nur. Peter:

Peter. Anon.

Nur. My fan Peter.

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

Nur, God ye goodmorrow Gentlemen.

E 3

Mer. God

The most lamentable Tragedie

Mer. God ye goodden faire gentlewoman.

Nur. Is it good den?

Mer. Tis no lesse I tell yee, for the bawdie hand of the dyal,
is now vpon the prick of noone.

Nur. Out vpon you, what a man are you?

Ro. One gentlewoman, that God hath made, himself to mar.

Nur. By my troth it is well said, for himselfe to mar quoth a?

Gëtlemë ca any of you tel me wher I may find the yong Romeo?

Ro. I can tell you, but young Romeo will be older when you haue found him, then he was when you fought him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worfe.

Nur. You say well.

Mer. Yea is the worst wel, very wel took, if faith, wifely, wifely.

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

Ben. She will endite him to some fupper.

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

Ro. What haft thou found?

Mer. No hare fir, vnlesse a hare fir in a lenten pie, that is some-  
thing stale 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 hore, is too much for a score, when it hores ere it be spent.

Romeo, will you come to your fathers weele to dinner thither.

Ro. I will follow you,

Mer. Farewell auncient Lady, farewell Lady, Lady,
Exeunt.

Nur. I pray you fir, what fawcie merchant was this that was so full of his roperie?

Ro. A gentleman Nurfe, that loues to heare himselfe talke, and will fpeake more in a minute, then hee with stand too in a moneth.

Nur. And a fpeake any thing against me, Ile take him downe, and a were luftier then he is, and twentie fuch lacks: and if I cannot, ile finde that shall: fcuruie knaue, I am none of his fluit gills, I am none of his skaines mates, and thou muft stand

of Romeo and Juliet.

stand by too and suffer euery knaue to vfe me at his pleas-
fure.

Pet. I saw no man vfe you at his pleafure: if I had, my weapon
fhuold quickly haue bin out: I warrant you, I dare draw affoone
as an other man, if I fee occasion in a goodquarel, & the law on
my fide.

Nur. Now afore God, I am so vext, that euery part about me
quiuers, skurue knaue: pray you fir a word: and as I told you,
my young Lady bid me enquire you out, what she bid me say, I
will keepe to my ſelfe: but firſt let me tell ye, if ye ſhould leade
her in a fooles paradife, as they ſay, it were a very groſſe kind of
behauior as they ſay: for the Gentlewoman is yong: and there-
fore, if you ſhould deale double with her, truly it were an ill
thing to be offred to any Gentlewoman, and very weake dea-
ling.

Rom. Nurſe, commend me to thy Lady and Miftreſſe, I pro-
teſt vnto thee.

Nur. Good heart, and y faith I will tel her as much: Lord, Lord,
she will be a joyfull woman.

Ro. What wilt thou tell her Nurſe? thou dooest not marke me?

Nur. I will tell her fir, that you do proteſt, which as I take it,
is a gentlemanlike offer.

Ro. Bid her deuife ſome means to come to ſhrift this afternoon,
And there ſhe shall at Frier Lawrence Cell

Be ſhrieued and married: here is for thy paines.

Nur. No truly fir not a penny.

Ro. Go too, I say you shall.

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

Ro. And stay good Nurſe behinde the Abbey wall,
Within this houre my man ſhall be with thee,
And bring thee cordes made like a tackled ſlayre,
Which to the high topgallant of my ioy,
Must be my conuoy in the secret night.

Farewell be truſtie, and ile quit thy paines :

Farewel, commend me to thy Miftreſſe.

Nur. Now

The most lamentable Tragedie

Nur. Now God in heauen blesse thee, harke you fir.

Ro. What faist thou my deare Nurfe?

Nur. Is your man secret, did you nere here say, two may keep
counfell putting one away.

Ro. Warrant thee my man's as true as steele.

Nur. Well fir, my Miftresse is the sweetest Lady, Lord, Lord,
when twas a little prating thing. O there is a Noble man in town
one Paris, that would faire me lay knife aboord: but the good foule
had as leene fee a tode, a very tode as fee him : I anger her some-
times, and tell her that Paris is the properer man, but ile warrant
you, when I say so, she lookes as pale as any clout in the versall
world; doth not Rosemarie and Romeo begin both with a let-
ter?

Ro. I Nurfe, what of that? Both with an R.

Nur. A mocker that's the dog, name R. is for the no, I know
it begins with some other letter, and she hath the pretieſt ſen-
tentious of it, of you and Rosemarie, that it would do you good
to heare it.

Ro. Commend me to thy Lady.

Nur. I a thousand times Peter.

Pet. Anon.

Nur. Before and apace.

Exit.

Enter Juliet.

Iu. The clocke strooke nine when I did ſend the Nurſe,
In halfe an houre ſhe promiſed to returne,
Perchance ſhe cannot meete him, that's not ſo:
Oh ſhe is lame, loues heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faſter glides then the Suns beameſ,
Driuing backe ſhadowes ouer lowring hills.
Therefore do nimble piniond doues draw loue,
And therefore hath the wind ſwift Cupid wings:
Now is the Sun vpon the highmoſt hill,
Of this dayes iourny, and from nine till twelue,
Is there long hours, yet ſhe is not come,
Had ſhe affections and warme youthfull bloud,

She

of Romeo and Juliet.

She would be as ſwift in motion as a ball,
My words would bandie her to my ſweete loue.

And his to me, but old folks, many fain as they wer dead,
Vnwardie, flowe, heauie, and pale as lead.

Enter Nurſe.

O God ſhe comes, ô hony Nurſe what newes?

Haſt thou met with him? ſend thy man away.

Nur. Peter ſtay at the gate.

Iu. Now good ſweete Nurſe, O Lord, why lookeſt thou ſade
Though newes be ſad, yet tell them merily.

If good, thou fameſt the muſicke of ſweete newes,
By playing it to me, with ſo ſower a face.

Nur. I am a wearie, giue me leaue a while,
Fie how my bones ake, what a iaunce haue I?

Iu. I would thou hadſt my bones, and I thy newes:
Nay come I pray thee ſpeake, good good Nurſe ſpeake.

Nur. Icfu what haſte, can you not ſtay a while?

Do you not fee that I am out of breath?

Iu. How art thou out of breath, when thou haſt breath
To ſay to me, that thou art out of breath?

The excufe that thou doesſt make in this delay,
Is longer then the tale thou doesſt excufe.

Is thy newes good or bad? anſwere to that,
Say either, and ile ſtay the circumſtance:

Let me be ſatisfied, iſt good or bad?

Nur. Well, you haue made a ſimple choyſe, you know not
how to chufe a man : Romeo, no not he though his face be bet-
ter then any mans, yet his leg excels all mens, and for a hand
and a foote and a body, though they be not to be talkt on, yet
they are paſt compare: he is not the flower of curteſie, but ile
warrant him, as gentle as a lamme: go thy wayes wench, ſerue
God. What haue you dinde at home?

Iu. 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 haue I?
It beates as it would fall in twentie peces.

F

My

The most lamentable Tragedie

My back a tother side,a my backe,my backe:
Beshrewe your heart for fending me about
To catch my death with iaunfing vp and downe.
*In.* Ifaith I am forrie that thou art not well.
Sweete,sweete,sweete Nurfe,tell me what fayes my loue?

*Nur.* Your loue fayes like an honest gentleman,
An a Courteous,and a kinde,and a handsome,
And I warrant a vertuous,where is your mother?

*In.* Where is my mother,why she is within,wher I should she be?
How odly thou repliest:
Your loue fayes like an honest gentleman,
Where is your mother?

*Nur.* O Gods lady deare,
Are you so hot,marrie come vp I trow,
Is this the poulvis for my aking bones:
Henceforward do your messages your selfe.

*In.* Here's such a coyle,come what faies *Romeo*?

*Nur.* Haue you got leaue to go to shift to day?

*In.* I haue.

*Nur.* Then high you hence to Frier Lawrence Cell,
There ftayes a husband to make you a wife.

Now comes the wanton bloud vp in your cheekes,
Theile be in scarlet straight at any newes:
Hie you to Church,I muft another way,
To fetch a Ladder by the which your loue
Muft climbe a birds neast soone when it is darke,
I am the drudge,and toyle in your delight:
But you shall beare the burthen soone at night.
Go ile to dinner,hie you to the Cell.

*Iuli.* Hie to high fortune,honest Nurfe farewell.

*Exeunt.*

*Enter Frier and Romeo.*

*Fri.* So I smile the heavens vpon this holy act,
That after hours,with sorrow chide vs not.

*Ro.* Amen, amen,but come what sorrow can,
It cannot counteruaile the exchange of ioy

That

of Romeo and Juliet.

That one short minute gives me in her fight
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then loue-deuouring death do what he dare,
It is inough I may but call her mine.

*Fri.* These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die like fier and powder:
Which as they kill confume. The sweeteft honey
Is loathsome in his owne deliciousneſſe,
And in the taſte confoundes the appetite.
Therefore loue moderately, long loue doth ſo,
Too ſwift arrives,as tardie as too flowe.

*Enter Juliet.*

Here comes the Lady,Oh so light a foote
Will nere weare out the euerlaſting flint,
A louer may beſtride the goſlamours,
That y deles in the wanton ſommer ayre,
And yet not fall, so light is vanitie.

*In.* Good euen to my gholtly confessor.

*Fri.* *Romeo* ſhall thanke thee daughter for vs both.

*In.* As much to him,elfe is his thankes too much.

*Ro.* Ah *Juliet*, if the meaſure of thy ioy
Be heapt like mine,and that thy skill be more
To blazon it,then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour ayre,and let rich muſicke tongue,
Vnfold the imagind happines that both
Receive in either,by this deare encounter.

*In.* Conceit more rich in matter then in words,
Brags of his subſtance,not of ornament,
They are but beggers that can count their worth,
But my true loue is growne to such exceſſe,
I cannot ſum vp ſum of haſe my wealth.

*Fri.* Come,come with me,and we will make short
For by your leaues,you shall not ſtay alone,
(worke) Till holy Church incorporate two in one.

F 2

*Enter.*

The most lamentable Tragedie

Enter Mercutio, Benuolio, and men.

Ben. I pray thee good Mercutio lets retire,
The day is hot, the Capulet abroad:
And if we meete we shall not scape a brawle, for now these hot daies is the mad blood stirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of these fellowes, that when he enters
the confines of a Tauerne, claps me his sword vpon the table,
and fayes, God send me no need of thee: and by the operation
of the second cup, draws 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 lacke in thy moode as
any in Italicke: and afloonce moued to be moodie, and afloonce
moodie to be moued.

Ben. And what too?

Mer. Nay and there were two such, we should haue none
shortly, for one would kill the other: thou, why thou wilt
quarell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire leis in his
beard, then thou haft: thou wilt quarell with a man for cracking
Nuts, hauing no other reason, but because thou haft hafel eyes:
what eye, but such an eye wold spie out such a quarrell thy head
is as full of quarelles, as an egge is full of meate, and yet thy
head hath bene beaten as addle as an egge for quarelling: thou
haft quareld with a man for coffing in the streete, because hee
hath wakened thy dogge that hath laine asleep in the fun, Didst
thou not fall out with a taylor for wearing his new doublet be-
fore Easter, with an other for tying his new shoes with olde ri-
band, and yet thou wilt tuter me from quarelling?

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

Mer. The fee-simple, a simple.

Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.

Ben. By my head here comes the Capulets.

Mer. By my heele I care not.

Tybalt. Follow me close, for I will speake to them.

Gentlemen, Good den, a word with one of you.

Mar.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Mer. And but one word with one of vs, couple it with some-
thing, make it a word and a blowe.

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

Mercu. Could you not take some occasion without gi-
uing?

Tyb. Mercutio, thou confortest with Romeo.

Mer. Confort, what doest thou make vs Minstrels? and thou
make Minstrels of vs, looke to hear nothing but discords: heeres
my fiddlesticke, heeres that shall make you daunce: zounds con-
fort.

Ben. We talke here in the publike haunt of men:
Either withdraw vnto some private place,
Or reason coldly of your grecuances:
Or else depart, here all eyes gaze on vs.

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

Enter Romeo.

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

Mer. But ile be hangd fir if he weare your luerie:
Marrie go before to field, heele be your follower,
Your worship in that senſe may call him man.

Tyb. Romeo, the loue I beare thee, can affoord
No better terme then this: thou art a villaine.

Ro. Tybalt, the reason that I haue to loue thee,
Doth much excufe the appertaining rage

To such a greeting: villaine am I none.
Therefore farewell, I fee thou knoweſt me not.

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

Ro. I do proteſt I neuer inuired thee,
But loue thee better then thou canſt deuise:

Till thou shalt know the reason of my loue,
And so good Capulet, which name I tender
As dearely as mine owne, be satisfied.

Mer. O calme, dishonourable, vile submission.

F 3

Alle

## The most lamentable Tragedie

Alla fincaθo carries it away,
Tibalt, you ratcatcher, will you walke?

Tib. What wouldst thou haue with me?

M. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives,
that I meane to make bold withall, and as you shall vse mee
hereafter drie beate the rest of the eight. Will you plucke your
sword out of his pilcher by the cares? make hafte, least mine be
about your cares ere it be out.

Tib. I am for you.

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier vp.

Mer. Come sir, your Paſſado.

Rom. Draw Benuolio, beate downe their weapons,
Gentlemen, for shame forbeare this outrage,
Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince exprefly hath
Forbid this bandying in Verona streets,
Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio.

## Away Tybalt.

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, marrie tis inough,
Where is my Page? go villaine, fetch a Surgion.

Ro. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much.

Mer. No us not so deepe as a well, nor so wide as a Church
doore, but tis inough; twill ſerue: aske for me to morrow, and you
ſhall finde me a graue man. I am peppered I warrant, for this
world, a plague a both your houſes, ſounds a dog, a rat, a mouse,
a cat, to scratch a man to death: a braggart, a rogue, a villaine,
that fights by the book of arithmatick, why the deule came you
betweene vs? I was hurt vnder your arme.

Ro. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Helpe me into some houſe Benuolio,

Or

## of Romeo and Juliet.

Or I shall faint, a plague a both your houſes,
They haue made wormes meate of me,
I haue it, and foundly, to your houſes.

Exh.

Ro. This Gentleman the Princes neare alie,
My very friend hath got this mortall hurt
In my behalfe, my reputation ſtaind
With Tybalts ſlaunder, Tybalt that an houre
Hath bene my Cozen, O sweete Iuliet,
Thy bewtie hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper ſoftned valours ſteele.

## Enter Benuolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, braue Mercutio is dead,
That gallant ſpirit hath aſpir'd the Clowdes,
Which too vntimely here did ſorne the earth.

Ro. This dayes blacke fate, on mo daies doth deped,
This but begins, the wo others muſt end.

Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt backe againe.

Ro. He gan in triumph and Mercutio ſlaine,
Away to heauen, reſpectue lenitie,
And fier end furie, be my conduct now,
Now Tybalt take the villaine backe againe,
That late thou gaueſt me, for Mercutios ſoule
Is but a little way aboue our heads,
Staying for thine to keepe him companie:
Either thou or I, or both, muſt go with him.

Ty. Thou wretched boy that didſt coſort him here,
Shalt with him hence.

Ro. This ſhall determine that.

They Fight, Tibalt falles.

Ben. Romeo, away be gone:
The Citizens are vp, and Tybalt ſlaine,
Stand not amazed, the Prince wil doome thee death,
If thou art taken, hence be gone away.

Ro. O

The moft lamentable Tragedie

Re. O I am fortunes foole.

Ben. Why dost thou stlay?

Exit Romeo.

Enter Citizens.

Citi. Which way ran he that kild Mercutio?
Tybalt that mutherer, which way ran he?

Ben. There lies that Tybalt.

Citi. Vp sir, go with me:

I charge thee in the Princes name obey.

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

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray?

Ben. O Noble Prince, I can discouer all:
The vnluckie mannage of this fatall brall,
There lies the man flaine by young Romeo,
That flew thy kifman, braue Mercutio.

Capu. Wi. Tybalt, my Cozin, O my brothers child,
O Prince, O Cozen, husband, O the bloud is spild
Of my deare kifman, Prince as thou art true,
For bloud of ours, shead bloud of Mountague.

O Cozin, Cozin.

Prin. Bennuolio, who began this bloudie fray?

Ben. Tybalt here slain, whom Romeos hand did slay,
Romeo that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke
How nice the quarell was, and vrgd withall
Your high displeasure all this vsreered,
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowed

Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene

Of Tybalt deafe to peace, but that he tilts

With piercing steele at bold Mercutios breast,

Who all as hot, turnes deadly poynt to poynt,

And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand beats

Cold death aside, and with the other fends

It backe to Tybalt, whose dexteritie

Retorts it, Romeo he cries aloud,

Hold friends, friends part, and swifter then his tongue,

His

able of Romeo and Juliet.

His aged armes beates downe their fatall poynts,
And twixt them rushes, vnderneath whose armes,
An enuious thrust from Tybalt, hit the life

Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled,

But by and by comes backe to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertain'd reuenge,

And toote they go like lightning, for ere I

Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slaine:

And as he fell, did Romeo turne and flie,
This is the truth, or let Bennuolio die.

Ca. Wi. He is a kifman to the Mountague,
Affection makes him false, he speaks not true:
Some twentie of them fought in this blacke strike,
And all those twentie could but kill one life.

I beg for Iustice which thou Prince must giue:

Romeo flew Tybalt, Romeo muft not flue.

Prin. Romeo flew him, he flew Mercutio,
Who now the price of his deare bloud doth owe.

Capu. Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutios friend,
His fault concludes, but what the law should end,

The life of Tybalt.

Prin. And for that offence,
Immediately we do exile him hence:
I haue an interest in your hearts proceeding:
My bloud for your rude brawles doth lie a bleeding.
But ile amerce you with so strong a fine,
That you shall all repent the losse of mine.
It will be deafe to pleading and excufes,
Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase out abufes.
Therefore vse none, let Romeo hence in haft,
Elfe when he is found, that houre is his haft.
Beare hence this body, and attend our will,
Mercie but murders, pardoning those that kill.

Exit.

Enter Juliet alone.
Gallop apace, you fierie footed steedes,

G

Towards

The most lamentable Tragedie

Towards Phoebus lodging, such a wagoner
As Phæxian would whip you to the west,
And bring in clowdie night immediately.
Spread thy close curtaine loue-performing night,
That runnawayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo
Leape to these armes, vntalkt of and vnfeene,
Louers can see to do their amorous rights,
And by their owne bewties, or if loue be blind,
It best agrees with night, come euill night,
Thou sober fured matron all in blacke,
And learne me how to loose a winning match,
Plaide for a paire of ftainleſſe may denhoods.
Hood my vnmand bloud bayting in my cheekes,
With thy blacke mantle, till ſtrange loue grow bold,
Thinke true loue acted ſimple modestie:
Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night,
For thou wilt lie vpon the winges of night,
Whiter then new snow vpon a Ruens backe:
Come gentle night, come louing black browd night,
Gie me my Romeo, and when I ſhall die,
Take him and cut him out in little starres,
And he will make the face of heauen so fine,
That all the world will be in loue with night,
And pay no worſhip to the gaiſh Sun.
O I haue bought the manſion of a loue,
But not poſſed it, and though I am ſold,
Not yet enioy'd, ſo tedious is this day,
As is the night before some ſestival,
To an impaſtient child that hath new robes
And may not weare them, O here comes my Nurſe.

Enter Nurſe with cords.

And she brings newes, and every tongue that speaks
But Romeo's name, ſpeakes heauenly eloquence:
Now Nurſe, what newes? what haſt thou there,
The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?

Nur. I.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Nur. I, I, the cords.

Iu. Ayme what news? why doſt thou wring thy hâdse

Nur. A weraday, hees dead, hees dead, hees dead,
We are vndone Lady, we are vndone.

Alack the day, hees gone, hees kild, hees dead.

Iu. Can heauen be so enuious?

Nur. Romeo can,
Though heauen cannot O Romeo, Romeo,

Who euer would haue thought it Romeo?

Iu. What duell art thou that doſt torment me thus?

This torture should be rored in diſmall hell,
Hath Romeo ſlaine himſelfe? ſay thou but I,
And that bare vowell I ſhall poyſon more
Then the death arting eye of Cockatrice,
I am not I, if there be ſuch an I.

Or those eyes ſhot, that makes thee anſwere I:

If he be ſlaine ſay I, or if not, no.

Briefe, ſounds, determine my weale or wo.

Nur. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,
God faue the marke, here on his manly breſt,

A piteous coarſe, a bloudie piteous coarſe,
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawbde in bloud,

All in goare bloud, I ſounded at the fight.

Iu. O break my hart, poore banckrout break at once,

To prison eyes, nere looke on libertie.
Vile earth too earth reſigne, end motion here,
And thou and Romeo preſſe on heauie beare.

Nur. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the beſt friend I had,
O curteous Tybalt, honelt Gentleman,
That euer I should liue to ſee thee dead.

Iu. What ſtorme is this that blowes ſo contraries?
Is Romeo ſlaughtred and is Tybalt dead?

My deareſt Cozen, and my dearer Lord,
Then dreadſult Trumpet found the generall doome.

For who is liuing, if those two are gone?

G 2

Nur. Tybalt.

The most lamentable Tragedie

Nur. Tybalt is gone and Romeo banisbed,
Romeo that kild him he is banisbed.
Iuli. O God, did Romeo's hand ftead Tibalts bloud
It did, it did, alas the day, it did.

Nur. O serpent heart, hid with a flowring face.
Iu. Did euer draggon keepe so faire a Caue?
Bewtifull tirant, fiend angelicall:

Rauenous douefeatherd raué, wolufchraening lamb,
Despifed substance of diuineft shewe:

Iuſt oppoſite to what thou iuſtly ſeemſt,
A dimme faint, an honourable villaine:

Onature what hadſt thou to do in hell
When thou didſt bower the ſpirit of a fiend,
In mortall paradife of ſuch ſweete ſleſh?

Was euer booke containing ſuch vile matter
So fairely bound? ô that deceit should dwell

In ſuch a gorgeous Pallace.

Nur. There's no truſt, no faith, no honetſie in men,
All periurde, all forſworne, all naught, all diſlemblers,

Ah wheres my man? giue me ſome A qua-vitæ:

Theſe griefs, theſe woes, theſe forrows make me old,
Shame come to Romeo.

Iu. Blifterd be thy tongue

For ſuch a wifh, he was not borne to ſhame:

Vpon his brow ſhame is aſham'd to ſit:

For tis a throane where honour may be crownd
Sole Monarch of the vniueral earth.

O what a beaſt was I to chide at him?

Nur. Wil you ſpeak wel of him that kild your cozin?

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

Ah poor my lord, what tongue ſhal ſmooth thy name,
When I thy three houres wife haue mangled it?

But wherefore villaine didſt thou kill my Cozin?

That villaine Cozin would haue kild my husband:

Backe ſoolſh teares, backe to your native ſpring,

Your tributarie drops belong to woe,

Which

of Romeo and Juliet.

Which you miftaking offer vp to ioy,
My husband liues that Tybalt would haue ſlaine,
And Tybalts dead that would haue ſlain my husband:

All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then?

Some word there was, worſer then Tybalts death
That murdred me, I would forget it faine,

But oh it preſſes to my memorie,
Like damned guiltie deeds to ſinners minues,

Tybalt is dead and Romeo banisbed:

That banisbed, that one word banisbed,
Hath ſlaine ten thouſand Tybalts: Tybalts death

Was woe enough if it had ended there:

Or if lower woe delights in fellowship,
And needly will be ranckt with other griefes,
Why followed not when ſhe ſaid Tybalts dead,

Thy father or thy mother, nay or both,
Which moderne lamentation might haue moued,

But with a reareward following Tybalts death,

Romeo is banisbed: to ſpeake that word,

Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,

All ſlaine, all dead: Romeo is banisbed,

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 Nurſe?

Nur. Weeping and wayling ouer Tybalts course,
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.

Iu. Waſh they his wounds with teares? mine ſhall be
When theirs are drie, for Romeos banisſment. (ſpent)

Take vp those cordes, poore ropes you are beguilde,
Both you and I for Romeo is exilde:

He made you for a highway to my bed,
But I a maide, die maiden widowed.

Come cordess come Nurſe, ile to my wedding bed,
And death not Romeo, take my maiden head.

Nur. Hie to your chamber, Ile finde Romeo
To comfort you, I wot well where he is:

G 3

Harke

The most lamentable Tragedie

Harkeye, your Romeo will be here at night,
Ile to him, he is hid at Lawrence Cell.

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

This is Act 4

Exit.

Enter Frier and Romeo.

malkick

Act 4

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

Ro. Father what newes? what is the Princes doome?
What forrow craues acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?

Fri. Too familiar

Is my deare sonne with such fowre companie?
I bring thee tidings of the Princes doome.

Ro. What leſſe then doomesday is the Princes doome?

Fri. A gentler iudgement vanilſt from his lips,
Not bodies death, but bodies baniſhment.

Rom. Ha, baniſhment? be merciſull, ſay death:

For exile hath more terror in his looke,
Much more then death, do not ſay baniſhment.

Fri. Here from Verona art thou baniſhed:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Ro. There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatorie, torture, hell it ſelfe:
Hence baniſhed, is blanilſt from the world.
And worlds exile is death. Then baniſhed,
Is death, miſtermd, calling death baniſhed,
Thou cutſt my head off with a golden axe,
And ſmileſt vpon the ſtroke that murders me.

Fri. O deadly ſin, ô rude vnthankſulnes,
Thy fault our law calls death, but the kind Prince
Taking thy part, hath rufft aside the law,
And round that blacke word death to baniſhment.

This

of Romeo and Juliet.

This is deare mercie, and thou ſeeth it not.

Ro. This torture and not mercie, heauen is here
Where're Iuliet liues, and euery cat and dog,
And little mouse, euery vnworthy thing
Lie here in heauen, and may looke on her,
But Romeo may not. More validitie,

More honourable ſtate, more courtship liues
In carrion flies, then Romeo: they may ſeaſe
On the white wonder of deare Iuliet's hand,
And ſteale immortall bleſſing from her lips,
Who euen in pure and vefall modelſtie
Still bluſh, as thinking their owne kiffes ſin.

This may flyes do, when I from this muſt flie,
And ſayeft thou yet, that exile is not death?
But Romeo may not, he is baniſhed.

Flies may do this, but I from this muſt flie:
They are freemen, but I am baniſhed.

Hadst thou no poyſon mixt, no sharpe ground knife,
No fudden meane of death, though nere ſo meane,

But baniſhed to kill me: Baniſhed?

O Frier, the damned vſe that word in hell:
Howling attends it, how haſt thou the heart
Being a Diuine, a ghostly Confessor,
A ſin obſoluer, and my friend profest,

To mangle me with that word baniſhed?

Fri. Then fond mad man, heare me a little ſpeake.

Ro. O thou wilt ſpeake againe of baniſhment.

Fri. Ile giue thee armour to keepe off that words,
Aduerſities ſweete milke, Philofophie,

To comfort thee though thou art baniſhed.

Ro. Yet baniſhed hang vp philofophie,
Vnleſſe Philofophie can make a Iuliet,

Displant a towne, reuerſe a Princes doome,
It helps not, it preuails not, talke no more.

Fri. O then I ſee, that mad man haue no cares.

Ro. How should they when that wife men haue no eyes?

Fri. Let

The most lamentable Tragedie

Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.

Ro. Thou canst not speak of that thou doft not feele,
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy loue,
An houre but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banishe'd,
Then mightest thou fpeake,
Then mightest thou teare thy hayre,
And fall vpon the ground as I do now,
Taking the meafure of an vnmade graue.

Enter Nurse, and knocke.

Fri. Arife one knocks, good Romeo hide thy selfe.

Ro. Not I, vnleffe the breath of hartſicke grones,
Myſt-like infold me from the ſearch of eyes.

They knocke.

Fri. Hark how they knock (whose there) Romeo arife,
Thou wilt be taken, ſtay a while, ſtand vp.

Slud knock,

Run to my ſtudie by and by, Gods will
What ſimplenes is this? I come, I come.

Knocke.

Who knocks so hard? whéce come you? what's your will?

Enter Nurse.

Nur. Let me come in, and you ſhal know my errant:

I come from Lady Juliet.

Fri. Welcome then.

Nur. O holy Frier, O tell me holy Frier,
Wheres my Ladyes Lord? wheres Romeo?

Fri. There on the ground,

With his owne teares made drunke.

Nur. O he is euen in my miſtreſſe caſe,
Iuſt in her caſe. O wofull ſimpathy:

Pitious predicament, euen so lies ſhe,
Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring,
Stand vp, ſtand vp, ſtand and you be a man,
For Iuſets ſake; for her ſake rife and ſtand:
Why ſhould you fall into ſo deepe an O?

Rom. Nurse.

Nur. Ah

of Romeo and Juliet.

Nur. Ah fir, ah fir, deaths the end of all.

Ro. Spakeſt thou of Iuliet? how is it with her?

Doth not ſhe thinke me an old murtherer,

Now I haue ſtain'd the childhood of our ioy,

With bloud remoued, but little from her owne?

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

My conceal'd Lady to our canceld loue?

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

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

And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries,

And then downe falls againe.

Ro. As if that name ſhot from the deadly leuell of a gun,

Did murther her, as that names curſed hand

Murderd her kinfiman. Oh tell me Frier, tell me,

In what vile part of this Anatomic

Doth my name lodge? Tell me that I may ſacke

The hatefull manſion.

Fri. Hold thy desperate hand:

Art thou a man? thy forme cries out thou art:

Thy teares are womaniſh, thy wild aſts deuote

The vnreasonable ſurie of a beaſt.

Vnſeemely woman in a ſeeming man,

And ilbefeeming beaſt in ſeeming both,

Thou haſt amaz'd me. By my holy order,

I thought thy diſpoſition better temperd.

Haſt thou ſlaine Tybalt? wilt thou ſley thy ſelfe?

And ſley thy Lady, that in thy life lies,

By doing damned hate vpon thy ſelfe?

Why ray left thou on thy birth? the heauen and earth?

Since birth, and heauen, and earth all three do meet,

In thee at once, which thou at once wouldſt looſe.

Fie, ſie, thou fameſt thy ſhape, thy loue, thy wit,

Which like a Vſurer aboundſt in all:

And vſeſt none in that true vſe indeed,

Which ſhould bedecke thy ſhape, thy loue, thy wit:

Thy Noble ſhape is but a forme of waxe,

H

Digreſſing

The most lamentable Tragedie

Digressing from the valour of a man,
Thy deare loue sworne but hollow periurie,
Killing that loue which thou haft vowd to cherish,
Thy wit, that ornament, to shape and loue,
Mishapen in the conduct of them both:
Like powder in a skilleffe wouldiers flaske,
Is set a fier by thine owne ignorance,
And thou dismembred with thine owne defence.
What rowle thee man, thy *Juliet* is alive,
For whole deare fake thou waft but lately dead.
There art thou happie, *Tybalt* would kill thee,
But thou fleweft *Tibalt*, there art thou happie.
The law that threatned death becomes thy friend,
And turnes it to exile, there art thou happie.
A packe of blessings light vpon thy backe,
Happines courts thee in her beſt array,
But like a miſhaued and ſullen wench,
Thou puts vp thy fortune and thy loue:
Take heede, take heede, for such die miſerable.
Go get thee to thy loue as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her:
But looke thou ſtay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canſt not paffe to *Mantua*,
Where thou ſhalt liue till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the Prince and call thiee backe,
With twentie hundred thouſand times more ioy
Then thou wentſt forthin lamentation.
Go before Nurse, commend me to thy Lady,
And bid her haſten all the houſe to bed,
Which heauie ſorrow makes them apt vnto,
*Romeo is comming.*
Nur. O Lord, I could haue ſtaid here all the night,
To hear a good counſell, oh what learning is:
My Lord, Ile tell my Lady you will come.
*Ro. Do so,* and bid my ſweete prepare to chide.

Nur. Here

of *Romeo and Juliet*.

Nur. Here fir, a Ring ſhe bid me give you fir:
Hie you, make haſt, for it growes very late.

*Ro.* How well my comfort is reui'd by this.

*Fri.* Go hec, goodnight, & here stands al your state:
Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day disguſe from hence,
Soiourn in *Mantua*, ile find out your man,
And he shall ſigniſe from time to time,
Every good hap to you, that chaunces here:
Give me thy hand, tis late, farewell, goodnight.

*Ro.* But that a ioy pafft ioy calls out on me,
It were a griefe, ſo briefe to part with thee:
Farewell.

Exeunt.

*Enter old Capulet, his wife and Paris.*

*Ca.* Things haue falne out fir so vnluckily,
That we haue had no time to moue our daughter,
Looke you, ſhe lou'd her kinsman *Tybalt* deately
And so did I. Well we were borne to die.
Tis very late, ſheele not come downe to night:
I promife you, but for your companie,
I would haue bene a ſed an houre ago.

*Paris.* These times of wo affoord no times to wooe:
Madam goodnight, commend me to your daughter.

*La.* I will, and know her mind early to morrow.
To night ſhees mewed vp to her heauines.

*Ca.* Sir *Paris*, I will make a desperate tender
Of my childes loue: I thinke ſhe will per rulde
In all respects by me may more, I doubt it not.
Wife go you to her ere you go to bed,
Acquaint her here, of my lonne *Paris* loue,
And bid her, marke you me: on wendſday next.
But ſoft, what day is this?

*Pa.* Monday my Lord.

*Ca.* Monday, ha ha, well wendſday is too ſoon.
A thurſday let it be, a thurſday tell her

H 2

She

The moft lamentable Tragedie

She shall be married to this noble Earle:
Will you be ready? do you like this haſt e?
Well, keepe no great ado, a friend or two,
For harke you, Tybalt being ſlaine so late,
It may be thought we held him careleſtly
Being our kinsman, if we reuell much:
Therefore weele haue ſome halſe a doozen friends,
And there an end, but what ſay you to Thurſday?
*Paris.* My Lord, I would that thurſday were to morrow.
*Ca.* Well get you gone, a Thurſday be it then:
Go you to Iuſet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her wife, againſt this wedding day.
Farewell my Lord, light to my chamber ho,
Afore mee, it is so very late that wee may call it early by and by,
Goodnight.

Exeunt.

Enter Romeo and Iuliet aloft.

*In.* Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet neare day:
It was the Nightingale, and not the Larke,
That pierſt the fearfull hollow of thine eare,
Nightly she sings on yond Pomgranat tree,
Believe me loue, it was the Nightingale.
*Rom.* It was the Larke the herald of the morne,
No Nightingale, looke loue what enuious streakes
Do lace the feuering cloudes in yonder East:
Nights candles are burnt out, and iocand day
Stands tipto on the myſtie Mountaine tops,
I muſt be gone and lue, or ſtay and die.

*In.* Yond light is not daylight, I know it I:
It is ſome Meteor that the Sun exhale,
To be to thee this night a Torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
Therefore ſtay yet, thou needſt not to be gone.

*Rō.* Let me be tane, let me be put to death,
I am content, so thou wilt haue it so.

He ſay yon gray is not the the mornings eye,

Tis

of Romeo and Iuliet.

Tis but the pale reflex of Cinthias brow.
Nor that is not the Larke whoſe noates do beate
The vaultie heauen so high aboue our heads,
I haue more care to ſtay then will to go:
Come death and welcome, Iuſet wills it so.
How iſt my ſoule? lets talke it is not day.

*Iu.* It is, it is, hie hence be gone away:
It is the Larke that ſings so out of tune,
Straining harſh Difcords, and vnpleasing Sharpes.
Some ſay, the Larke makes ſweete Diuſion:
This doth not ſo: for ſhe diuideth vs.
Some ſay the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes,
O now I would they had changd voyces too:
Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray,
Hunting thee hence, with Huntſup to the day.
O now be gone, more light and light it growes.

*Romeo.* More light and light, more darke and darke our
woes.

Enter Madame and Nurſe.

*Nur.* Madam,

*Iu.* Nurſe.

*Nur.* Your Lady Mother is cūming to your châber,
The day is broke, be wary, looke about.

*Iu.* Then window let day in, and let life out.

*Rō.* Farewell, farewell, one kiffe and Ile descend.

*Iu.* Art thou gone so loue, Lord, ay husband, friend,
I muſt heare from thee euery day in the houre,
For in a minute there are many dayes,
O by this count I ſhall be much in yeares,
Ere I againe behold my *Romeo*.

*Rom.* Farewell:

I will omit no opportunitie,
That may conucy my greetings loue to thee.

*Iu.* O thinkſt thou we shall euer meete againe?

*Rom.* I doubt it not, and all theſe woes I shall ſerue
For ſweete diſcourſes in our times to come.

H 3

Iu. O

The most lamentable Tragedie

Jul. O God I haue an ill diuining loue,
Me thinkes I see thee now, thou art so lowe,
As one dead in the bottome of a tombe,
Either my eye-fight failes, or thou lookest pale.

Rom. And trust me loue, in my eye so do you:
Drie forrow drinkes our bloud. Adue, adue.

Exii.

In. O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle,
If thou art fickle, what doft thou with him
That is renowned for faith? be fickle Fortune:
For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him long,
But send him backe.

Enter Mother.

La. Ho daughter, are you vp?

In. Who if that calls? It is my Lady mother.
Is she not downe so late or vp so early?
What vnaccuſtomd cauſe procures her hither?

La. Why how now Juliet?

In. Madam I am not well.

La. Euermore weeping for your Cozens death?
What wilt thou wash him from his graue with teares?
And if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him lues
Therfore haue done, some griefe shews much of loue,
But much of greefe, shewes still some want of wit.

In. Yet let me weepe, for such a feeling loffe.

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

In. Feeling so the loffe,
I cannot chuse but euer weepe the friend.
La, Wel gyre, thou weepst not so much for his death,
As that the villaine lues which flau gh terd him.

In. What villaine Madam?

La. That fame villaine Romeo.

In. Villaine and he be imany miles a funder:
God padon, I do with all my heart:

And yet no man like he, doth greue my heart.

La. That

of Romeo and Juliet.

La. That is becauſe the Traytor murderer lues.

In. I Madam from the reach of these my hands:
Would none but I might venge my Cozens death.
La. We will haue vengeance for it, feare thou not;
Then weepe no more, Ile ſend to one in Mantua,
Where that fame bannisht runnagate doth lue,
Shall giue him ſuch an vnaccuſtomd dram,
That he ſhall soone keepe Tybalt companie:
And then I hope thou wilt be ſatisfied.

In. Indeed I neuer ſhall be ſatisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him. Dead
Is my poore heart so for a kinfman vext:
Madam if you could find out but a man
To beare a poyſon, I would temper it:
That Romeo should vpon receit thereof;
Soone sleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhors
To heare him namde and cannot come to him,
To wreake the loue I bore my Cozen,
Vpon his body that hath flau gh terd him.

Mo. Find thou the means, and Ile find ſuch a man,
But now ile tell thee ioyfull tidings Gyrl.
And if thou like any of these, be heech your Ladyship?

In. And ioy comes well in ſuch a needie time,
What are they, be ſeech your Ladyship?

M. Well, well, thou haſt a careful father child,
One who to put thee from thy heavines,
Hath forted out a ſudden day of ioy;
That thou expeſts not, nor I lookt not for.

In. Madam in happie time, what day is that?

M. Marrie my child, early next Thursday morne,
The gallant young, and Noble Gentleman,
The Countie Paris at Saint Peters Church,
Shall happily make thee there a ioyfull Bride.

In. Now by S. Peters Church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a ioyfull Bride.
I wonder at this hafte, that I must wed
Ere he that ſhould be husband comes to wooe:

I pray

The most lamentable Tragedie

I pray you tell my Lord and father Madam,
I will not marrie yet, and when I do, I sweare
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate
Rather then Paris, thefe are newes indeed.
CM. Here comes your father, tell him so your selfe:
And see how he will take it at your hands.

Enter Capulet and Nurse.

Ca. When the Sun sets, the earth doth drifle deaw,
But for the Sunset of my brothers Sonne,
It rains downright. How now a Conduit girle, what still in tears
Euermore showring in one little body?
Thou countefaits. A Barke, a Sea, a Wind:
For still thy eyes, which I may call the Sea,
Do ebbe and flowe with teares, the Barke thy body is:
Sayling in this salt floud, the windes thy fighes,
Who raging with thy teares and they with them,
Without a fudden calme will ouerlet
Thy tempeft toffed body. How now wife,
Haue you deliuered to her our decree?

La. I fir, but she will none, she giue you thankes,
I would the foole were married to her graue.

Ca. Soft take me with you, take me with you wife,
How will she none? doth she not giue vs thanks?
Is she not proud? doth she not count her bleſſ,
Vnworthy as she is, that we haue wrought
So worthy a Gentleman to be her Bride?

In. Not proud you haue, but thankful that you haue:
Proud can I neuer be of what I hate,
But thankfull euen for hate, that is meant loue.

Ca. How, how, how how, chopt lodgick, what is this?
Proud and I thanke you, and I thanke you not,
And yet not proud miſtreſſe minion you?
Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no proudſ,
But fettle your fine Ioynts gainſt Thursday next,
To go with Paris to Saint Peters Church:
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

You

of Romeo and Juliet.

Out you greene ſickneſſe carrion, out you baggage,
You tallow face.

La. Fie, fie, what are you mad?

In. 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 neuer after looke me in the face.

Speake not, replie not, do not anſwere me.

My fingers itch, wife, we ſcarce thought vs bleſſ,
That God had lent vs but this onely childe,

But now I fee this one is one too much,

And that we haue a curſe in hauing her:

Out on her hilding.

Nur. God in heauen 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, go.

Nur. I ſpeake no treaſon,
Father, Godigeden,
May not one ſpeake?

Fa. Peace you mumbling foole,

Vtter your grauitie ore a Goſſips bowle,
For here we need it not.

Wi. You are too hot.

Fa. God's bread, it makes me mad,
Day, night, houre, tide, time, worke, play,
Alone in companie, still my care hath bene
To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided
A Gentleman of noble parentage,
Of faire demeanes, youthfull and nobly liand,
Stuft as they lay, with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as ones thought would with a man,
And then to haue a wretched puling foole,
A whining mammet, in her fortunes tender,
To anſwere, ile not wed, I cannot loue:
I am too young, I pray you pardon me.

I

But

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 do not vse to ieft.
Thursday is neare, lay hand on hart, aduise,
And you be mine, ile giue you to my friend,
And you be not,hang,beg,starue, dye in the streets,
For by my foule ile nere acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall neuer do thee good:
Trust too't, bethinke you, ile not be forsworne.

Exit.

In. Is there no pittie sitting in the cloudes
That sees into the bottome of my greefe ?
O sweet my Mother caft me not away,
Delay this marriage for a month, a wecke,
Or if you do not, make the Bridall bed
In that dim Monument where Tibalt lies.

Mo. Talke not to me, for ile not speake a word,
Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee.

Exit.

In. O God, ô Nurfe, how shall this be prevented?
My husband is on earth,my faith in heauen,
How shall that faith returne againe to earth,
Vnleſſe that husband ſend it me from heauen,
By leauing earth ? comfort me, counſaile me:
Alack, alack, that heauen ſhould præſeſt Stratagems
Vpon so ſoft a ſubieſt as my ſelſe.
What ſayſt thou, haſt thou not a word of ioy ?
Some comfort Nurſe.

Nur. Faith here it is, Romeo is banifhed and all the world to
That he dares nere come back to challenge you: (nothing,
Or if he do, it needs muſt be by his alth.
Then ſince the cafe ſo ſtands as now it doth,
I thinke it beſt you married with the Countie,
O hees a louely Gentleman:

Remos a diſtance to him, an Eagle Madam
Hath not so greene, so quick, so faire an eye
As Paris hath, beſtrow my very hart,

## of Romeo and Juliet.

I thinke you are happie 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 liuing here, and you no vſe of him.

In. Speakſt thou from thy heart?

Nur. And from my ſoule too, else beſhrew them both.

In. Amen.

Nur. What?

In. Well thou haſt comforſed me maruellous much,
Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone,
Hauing diſpleaf'd my father, to Laurence Cell,
To make conſeſsion, and to be obſolu'd.

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

In. Auncient damnation, ô moſt wicked fiend,
Is it more fin to wiſh me thus forſworne,
Or to diſpraſe my Lord with that fame tongue,
Which ſhe hath praisde him with aboue compare,
So many thouſand times ? Go Counſellor,
Thou and my boſome henceforth ſhall be twaine:
Ile to the Frier to know his remedie,
If all else faile, my ſelſe haue power to die.

Exit.

Enter Frier and Countie Paris.

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

Par. My Father Capulet will haue it so,

And I am nothing ſlow to flacke his haſte.
Fri. You ſay you do not know the Ladies minde?

Vneuen is the course, I like it not.

Par. Immoderately ſhe weepes for Tybalts death,
And therefore haue I little talke of loue,
For Venus ſmiles not in a house of teares.
Now fir, her father counts it daungerous
That ſhe do giue her ſorrow so much ſway:
And in his wifedome haſtes our marriage,
To ſtop the inundation of her teares.
Which too much minded by her ſelſe alone
May be put from her by societie.

12

Now

Now do you know the reason of this hafe.

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

Enter Juliet.

Pa. Happily met my Lady and my wife.

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

Pa. That may be, muſt be loue, on Thursday next.

Iu. What muſt be ſhall be.

Fri. That's a certaine text.

Par. Come you to make confefſion to this Father?

Iu. To aunſwere that, I should confefſe to you.

Pa. Do not deme to him, that you loue me.

Iu. I will confefſe to you that I loue him.

Par. So will ye, I am ſure that you loue me.

Iu. If I do ſo, it will be of more price,

Being ſpoke behind your backe, then to your face.

Par. Poor ſoule thy face is much abuſde with tears.

Iu. The teares haue got ſmall victorie by that,

For it was bad inough before their ſpight.

Pa. Thou wrongſt it more then tears with that report.

Iu. That is no ſlaUNDER fir, which is a truth,

And what I ſpake, I ſpake it to my face.

Pa. Thy face is mine, and thou haſt ſlandred it.

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

Are you at leifure, holy Father now,

Or ſhall I come to you at euening Maſſe?

Fri. My leifure ſerues me penſive daughter now,

My Lord we muſt entreate the time alone.

Par. Godſhield, I should diſturbe deuotion,

Iuſet, on Thursday early will I rowſe yee,

Till then adue, and keepe this holy kiffle.

Exeit.

Iu. O ſhut the doore, and when thou haſt done ſo,
Come weepe with me, paſt hope, paſt care, paſt help.

Fri. O Iuſet I already know thy greſſe,
It ſtraines me paſt the compaſſe of my wits,
I heare thou muſt, and nothing may prorogue it,

On

## of Romeo and Juliet.

On Thursday next be married to this Countie.

Iu. Tell me not Frier, that thou heareſt of this,
Vnleſſe thou tell me, how I may preuent it:

If in thy wifedome thou canſt giue no helpe,
Do thou but call my reſolution wife,

And with this knife ile helpe it preſently.

Godioynd my heart, and Romeos thou our hands:

And ere this hand by thee to Romeos ſeald:
Shall be the Labell to an other deed,

Or my true heart with trecherous reuole,

Turne to an other, this ſhall ſley them both:

Therefore out of thy long experienſt time,
Giue me ſome preſent counſell, or behold

Twixt my extreames and me, this bloudie knife
Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that,

Which the commiſſion of thy yeares and art,
Could to no iſſue of true honour bring:

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

If what thou ſpeakſt, ſpeake not of remedie.

Fri. Hold daughter, I do ſpie a kind of hope,
Which craues as desperate an execution,

As that is desperate which we would preuent.

If rather then to marrie Countie Paris

Thou haſt the ſtrength of will to ſtay thy ſelfe,
Then is it likely thou wilt vndertake

A thing like death to chide away this ſhame,

That coapſt with death, himſelfe, to ſcape from it:

And if thou dareſt, Ile giue thee remedie.

Iu. Oh bid me leape, rather then marrie Paris,
From of the battlements of any Tower,

Or walke in theeuith wayes, or bid me luke

Where Serpents are: chaine me with roaring Beares,
Or hide me nightly in a Charnel houſe,

Orecouerd quite with dead mens ratling bones,

With reekie thanks and yealow chapels ſculſs:

Or bid me go into a new made graue,

And hide me with a dead man in his,

I 3

Things

The most lamentable Tragedie

Things that to heare them told, haue made me tremble,
And I will do it without feare or doubt,
To liue an vnstain'd wife to my sweete loue.

Fri. Hold then, go home, be merrie, giue consent,
To marrie Paris: wend'sday is to morrow,
To morrow night looke that thou liest alone,
Let not the Nurse lie with thee in thy Chamber.

Take thou this Violl being then in bed,
And this distilling liquor drinke thou off,
When presently through all thy veines shall run,
A cold and drowzie humour: for no pulse
Shall keepe his native progresse but surcease,

No warmth, no breast shall testifie thou liuest,
The roses in thy lips and cheekes shall fade:

Too many ashes, thy eyes windowes fall:
Like death when he shuts vp the day of life.

Each part depriu'd of supple government,
Shall stiffe and starke, and cold appeare like death,
And in this borrowed like neffe of shrunke death
Thou shall continue two and fortie hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleepe.

Now when the Bridegroome in the morning comes,
To rowse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:

Then as the manner of our countrie is,
In thy best robes vncouered on the Beere,
Be borne to buriall in thy kindreds graue:
Thou shall be borne to that fame auncient vault,

Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie,

In the meane time against thou shall awake,
Shall Romeo by my Letters know our drift,

And hither shall he come, an he and I

Will watch thy walking, and that very night

Shall Romeo beare thee hence to Mantua.

And this shall free thee from this present shame,
If no inconstant toy nor womanish feare,

Abate thy valour in the acting it.

Iu. Gaine

of Romeo and Juliet.

Iu. Giue me, giue me, O tell not me of feare

Fri. Hold get you gone, be strong and prosperous

In this refolue, ile send a Frier with speed

To Mantua, with my Letters to thy Lord.

Iu. Loue giue me strength, and strength shall helpe afford:

Farewell deare father.

(Exit.)

Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and

Seruing men, two or three,

Ca. So many guests inuite as here are writ,
Sitrah, go hire me twentie cumming Cookes.

Ser. You shall haue none ill sir, for ile trie if they can lick their
fingers.

Capu. How canst thou trie them so?

Ser. Marrie sir, tis an ill Cooke that cannot lick his owne fin-
gers: therefore hee that cannot lick his fingers goes not with
me.

Ca. Go be gone, we shall be much vnfurnisht for this time:

What is my daughter gone to Frier Lawrence?

Nur. I forsooth.

Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her,
A peewish selfewield harlottry it is.

Enter Juliet.

Nur. See where the comes from, shift with merie looke.

Ca. How now my headstrong, where haue you bin gadding?

Iu. Where I haue learnt me to repent the fin.

Of disobedient oppofition,
To you and your behefts, and am enioynd

By holy Lawrence, to fall prostrate here.

To beg your pardon, pardon I beseech you.

Henceforward I am euer rulde by you.

Ca. Send for the Countie, go tell him of this,

Ile haue this knot knit vp to morrow morning.

Iu. I met the youthfull Lord at Lawrence Cell,
And gaue him what becomd loue I might,
Not stepping o're the bounds of modestie.

Cap. Why I am glad on't, this is wel, stand vp,

This is aft should be, let me see the Countie:

I marrie go I say, and fetch him hither.

Now

The moft lamentable Tragedie

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

Iu. Nurfe, will you go with me into my Clofet,
To helpe me for such needfull ornaments,
As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow?

Mo. No not till Thursday, there is time inough.

Fa. Go Nurfe, go with her, weele to Church to morrow.

Exeunt.

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

Fa. Tush, I will stirre about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife:

Go thou to Juliet, helpe to decke vp her,
Ile not to bed to night, let me alone:

Ile play the huswife for this once, what ho?

They are all forth, well I will walke my selfe
To Countie Paris, to prepare vp him

Against to morrow, my heart is wondrous light,
Since this fame wayward Gyrle is so reclaymd.

Exit.

Enter Juliet and Nurfe.

Iu. I thofe attires are best, but gentle Nurfe
I pray thee leaue me to my selfe to night:

For I haue need of many orysons,

To moue the heauens to smile vpon my state,

Which well thou knowest, is croffe and full of sin.

Enter Mother.

Mo. What are you bufie ho? need you my helpe?

Iu. No Madam, we haueuld such necessaries

As are behoofefull for our state to morrow:

So pleafe you, let me now be left alone,

And let the Nurfe this night fit vp with you,

For I am sure you haue your hands full all,

In this so sudden bufineſſe.

Mo. Good night.

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

Exeunt.

Iu. Farewell.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Iu. Farewell, God knowes when we shall meete againe,
I haue a faint cold feare thrills through my veines,

That almost freezes vp the heate of life:

Ile call them backe againe to comfort me.

Nurfe, what should she do here?

My dismall ſceane I needs muſt act alone.

Come Violl, what if this mixture do not worke at all?

Shall I be married then to morrow morning?

No, no, this shall forbid it, lie thou there,

What if it be a poyſon which the Frier

Subtly hath miniftred to haue me dead,

Leaſt in this marriage he should be diſhonour'd,

Because he married me before to Romeo?

I feare it is, and yet me thinks it should not,

For he hath still bene tried a 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 poynt:

Shall I not then be stifſtled in the Vault?

To whose foule mouth no health ſome ayre breaths in,

And there die ſtrangled ere my Romeo comes.

Or if I lie, is it not very like,

The horrible conceit of death and night,

Together with the terror of the place,

As in a Vault, an auncient receptacle,

Where for this many hundred yeares the bones

Of all my buried aunceſtors are packt,

Where bloudie Tybalt yet but greene in earth,

Lies ſeſtring in his ſhroude, where as they lay,

At some houres in the night, ſpirits reſort:

Alack, alack, is it not like that I

So early waking, what with loathome ſmels,

And strikes like mandrakes to the earth out of the earth,

That liuing mortalls hearing them runn mad:

O if I wake, shall I not be diſtraught,

Inuironed with all these hideous feares,

And madly play with my forefathers ioynts?

K

And

And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his throwde,
And in this rage with some great kinsmans bone,
As with a club dash out my defprate braines.
O looke, me thinks I see my Cozins Ghost,
Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body
Vpon a Rapiers poyntay Tybalt, stay?
Romeo, Romeo, heeres drinke, I drinke to thee.

*Enter Lady of the house and Nurse.*

La. Hold take these keies & fetch more spices Nurse.

Nur. They call for dates and quinces in the Paſtrie.

*Enter old Capulet.*

Ca. Come, flir, flir, flir, the second Cock hath crowed.
The Curphew bell hath roong, tis three a clock:
Looke to the bakte meates, good Angelica,
Spare not for cost.

Nur. Go you cot-queane go,
Get you to bed, faith youle be lícke to morrow
For this nights watching.

Ca. No not a whit, what I haue watcht ere now,
All night for leſſer cauſe, and nere bene líck.

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

*Exit Lady and Nurse.*

Ca. A itealous hood, a itealous 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.

Ca. Make haſte, make haſte firra, fetch drier logs.

Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are.

Fel. I haue a head fir, that will find out logs,
And neuer trouble Peter for the matter.

Ca. Maſſe and well ſaid, a merrie horſon, ha,
T wou haſt be loggerhead, good father tis day.

*Play Muſſike.*

The Countie will be here with muſſike ſtraight,
For so he ſaid he would, I heare him neare.

Nurse, wife, what ho, what Nurse I lay?

## of Romeo and Juliet.

*Enter Nurse.*

Go waken Juliet, go and trim her vp,
Ile go and chat with Paris, hie, make haſte,
Make haſt, the bridgroome, he is come already, make haſt I lay.

Nur. Miftris, what miftris, Juliet, haſt I warrant her ſhe,
Why Lambe, why Lady, ſie you fluggabed,

Why Loue I lay, Madam, I sweete heart, why Bride?

What not a word, you take your penniworths now,
Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant

The Countie Paris hath fet vp his reſt,

That you ſhall reſt but little, God forgive me.

Marrie and Amen: how found is he a sleepe:

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

I, let the Countie take you in your bed,

Heele fright you vp yfaith, will it not be?

What drest, and in your clothes, and downe againe?

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

Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladyes dead.

Oh wereaday that euer I was borne,

Some Aqua-vitæ ho, my Lord my Lady.

Mo. What noife is here?

Nur. O lamentable day.

Mo. What is the matter?

Nur. Looke, looke, oh heauie day!

Mo. O me, O m, my child, my onely life.]
Reuive, looke vp, or I will die with thee:

Helpe, helpe, call helpe.

*Enter Father.*

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

Nur. Shees dead: decaraft, shees dead, alack the day.

M. Alack the day, shees dead, shees dead, shees dead.

Fa. Hah let me see her, out alas, shees cold,
Her bloud is fetled, and her ioynts are ſtiffe:
Life and theſe lips haue long bene ſeparated,
Death lies on her like an vntimely froſt,
Vpon the ſweeteſt flower of all the field.

K 2

Nur. O

The most lamentable Tragedie

Nur. O lamentable day!

Mo. O wofull time!

Fa. Death that hath tane her høce to make me wai
Ties vp my tongue and will not let me speake.

Enter Frier and the Countie.

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

Fa. Ready to go but neuer to returne,

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

Par. Haue I thought long to see this mornings face,
And doth it giue me such a fight as this?

Mo. Accurſt, vnhappie, wretched hatefull day,
Most miserable houre that cre time saw,
In laſting labour of his Pilgrimage,
But one poore one, one poore and louing child,
But one thing to reioyce and ſolace in,
And cruell death hath catcht it from my fight.

Nur. O wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day,
Most lamentable day, most wofull day
That euer, euer, I did yet bedold.
O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day,
Neuer was ſeene ſo blacke a day as this,
O wofull day, O wofull day.

Par. Beguild, diuorced, wronged, spighted, ſlaine,
Most detestable death, by thee beguild,
By cruell, cruell, thee quite ouerthrowe,
O loue, O life, not life, but loue in death.

Fat. Despisde, distreſſed, hated, martird, kild,
Vncomfortable time, why camſt thou now,
To murther, murther, our ſolennities
O childe, O childe, my ſoule and not my childe,
Dead art thou, alacke my child is dead,
And with my child my ioyes are buried.

Fri. Peace

of Romeo and Juliet.

Fri. Peace ho for ſhame, confusions care liues not,
In these confusions heauen and your ſelfe
Had part in this faire maide, now heauen hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid:

Your part in her, you could not keepe from death.
But heauen keepes his part in eternall life,
The most you ſought was her promotion,
For twas your heauen ſhe should be aduanſt,
And weepe ye now, ſeeing ſhe is aduanſt
Aboue the Cloudes, as high as heauen it ſelfe.

O in this loue, you loue your child so ill,
That you run mad, ſeeing that ſhe is well:
Shees not well married, that liues married long,
But ſhees beſt married, that dies married young.
Drie vp your teares, and ſtick your Rosemarie
On this faire Coarſe, and as the cufome is,
And in her beſt array beare her to Church:
For though ſome nature bids vs all lament,
Yet natures teares are reaſons merriment.

Fa. All things that we ordained ſestuall,
Turne from their office to black Funerall:
Our instruments to melancholy bells,
Our wedding cheare to a sad buriall feaſt:
Our ſolemne himnes to ſullen dyrges change:
Our Bridall flowers ſerue for a buried Coarſe:
And all things change them to the contrarie.

Fri. Sir go you in, and Madam go with him,
And go fir Paris, euery one prepare
To follow this faire Coarſe vnto her graue:
The heauens do lowre vpon you for ſome ill:
Moue them no more, by croſſing their high wil.

Fxeunt manet.

Muſt, Faith we may put vp our pipes and be gone.
Nur. Honeſt goodfellowes, ah put vp, put vp,
For well you know, this is a pitifull cafe.

Fid. I my troath, the cafe may be amended.

Exit omnes.

Enter

The most lamentable Tragedie

Enter Will Kemp.

Peter. Musitions, oh Musitions, harts eafe, harts eafe,
O, and you will haue me liue, play harts eafe.

Fidler. Why harts eafe?

Peter. O Musitions, becaufe my hart it selfe plaies my hart is
O play me some merie dump to comfort me.

(full:

Minftrels. Not a dump we, tis no time to play now.

Peter. You will not then?

Minft. No.

Peter. I will then giue it you foundly.

Minft. What will you giue vs?

Peter. No money on my faith, but the gleeke.

I will giue you the Minftrell.

Minftrel. Then will I giue you the Seruing- creature.

Peter. Then will I lay the seruing-creatures dagger on your
I will cary no Crochets, ile re you, lle fa

(pate:

You, do you note me?

Minft. And you re vs, and fa vs, you note vs.

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

Then haue at you with my wit.

Peter. I will dry-beate you with an yron wit, and put vp my
Anſwere me like men.

(yron dagger.

When griping griefes the hart doth wound, then muſique with
her filuer found.

Why filuer found, why muſique, with her filuer found, what ſay
you Simon Catling?

Minſt. Mary fir, becauſe filuer hath a sweet found.

Peter. Prates, what ſay you Hugh Rebick?

2. M. I ſay filuer found, becauſe Musitions found for filuer.

Peter. Prates to, what ſay you Iames found poſt?

3. M. Faith I know not what to ſay.

Peter. O I cry you mercy, you are the ſinger.

I will ſay for you, it is muſique with her filuer found,
Because Musitions haue no gold for founding:

Then Muſique with her filuer found with ſpeedy help doth
lend redreſſe.

Exit.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Min. What a peſtilent knaue is this fame?

M. 2. Hang him Iack, come weele in here, tarrie for the mours,
gers, and stay dinner.

Enter Romeo.

Exii.

Ro. If I may truſt the flattering truth of ſleepe,
My dreames prefage ſome ioy full newes at hand,
My boſomes L. ſits lightly in his throne:

And all this day an vnaccuſtomed ſpirit,
Lifes me aboue the ground with chearefull thoughts,
I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead,

Strange dreame that giues a deadman leaue to thinke,
And Breathd ſuch life with kiffles in my lips,
That I reuiiude and was an Emperor.

Ah me, how ſweete is loue it selfe poſſeſt
When but loues ſhadowes are so rich in ioy.

Enter Romeos man.

Newes from Verona, how now Balthazer,

Doft thou not bring me Letters from the Frier?

How doth my Lady, is my Father well?

How doth my Lady Iuliet? that I aske againe,

For nothing can be ill if she be well.

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

And her immortall part with Angels liues.

I ſaw her laid lowe in her kindreds vault,

And preſently tooke poſte to tell it you:

O pardon me for bringing theſe ill newes,

Since you did leaue it for my office fir.

Rom. Is it in ſo? then I denie you ſtarres.

Thou knoweſt my lodging, get me inke and paper,

And hire poſt horſes, I will hence to night.

Man. I do beſeech you fir, haue patience:

Your lookes are pale and wilde, and do import

Some miſaduenture.

Ro. Tuch thou art deceiued,
Leaue me, and do the thing I bid thee do.

Haſt

The most lamentable Tragedie

Haft thou no Letters to me from the Frier?
Man. No my good Lord.

Exit.

Ro. No matter get thee gone,
And hyre thofe horſes, Ile be with thee ſtraight.
Well Iuliet, I will he with thee to night:
Letſe fee for meane, O miſchſeie thou art ſwift,
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men.
I do remember an Appothacarie,
And here abouts a dwells which late I noted,
In tattred weeds with ouerwhelming browes,
Culling of ſimples, meager were his lookes,
Sharpe miſerie had worne him to the bones:
And in his needie ſhop a tortoyes hung,
An allegater ſluſt, and other skins
Of ill ſhapte ſiſhes, and about his ſhelues,
A beggerly account of empty boxes,
Greene earthen pots, bladders and muſtie feedes,
Remnants of packthred, and old cakes of Roſes
Were thinly ſcattered, to make vp a ſhew.
Noting this penury, to my ſelfe I ſaid,
An if a man did need a poyſon now,
Whofe ſale is preſent death in Mantua,
Here liues a Catiffe wretch would ſell it him.
O this fame thought did but forerun my need,
And this fame needie man muſt ſell it me.
As I remember this ſhould be the houſe,
Being holy day, the beggers ſhop is ſhut.
What ho Appothecarie.

Appo. Who calls so lowd?

Kom. Come hither man, I fee that thou art poore.
Hold, there is forſie duckets, let me haue
A dram of poyſon, ſuch ſoone ſpeeding geare,
As will diſpearſe it ſelfe through all the veines,
That the life-wearie-taker may fall dead,
And that the Trunke may be diſcharged of breath.
As violently, as haſtie powder fierd

Doth

of Romeo and Juliet.

Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe.

Poti. Such mortall drugs I haue, but Mantua's lawe
Is death to any he that vtters them.

Ro. Art thou ſo bare and full of wretchedneſſe,
And feareſt to die, ſamine is in thy cheekes,
Need and oppreſſion ſtarueth in thy eyes,
Contempt and beggerie hangs vpon thy backe:
The world is not thy friend, nor the worlds law,
The world affoords no law to make thee rich:
Then be not poore, but breake it and take this.

Poti. My pouertie, but not my will consents.

Ro. I pray thy pouertie and not thy will.

Poti. Put this in any liquid thing you will
And drinke it off, and if you had the ſtrength
Of twentie men, it would dispatch you ſtraight.
Re. There is thy Gold, worſe poyſon to mens ſoules,
Doing more murther in this loathſome world,
Then these poore cōpounds that thou maiſt not ſell,
I ſell thee poyſon, thou haſt ſold me none,
Farewell, buy ſoode, and get thy ſelſe in ſſeth.
Come Cordiall and not poyſon, go with me
To Iuliet's graue, for there muſt I vſe thee.

Exeunt.

Enter Frier Iohn to Frier Lawrence.

Ioh. Holy Franciscan Frier, brother, ho.

Enter Lawrence.

Law. This fame ſhould be the voyce of Frier Iohn,
Welcome from Mantua, what ſayes Romeo?
Or if his minde be writ, giue me his Letter.

Ioh. Going to find a barefoote brother out,
One of our order to affotiate me,
Here in this Citie visiting the ſicke,
And finding him, the Searchers of the Towne
Suspecting that we both were in a houſe,
Where the infectious pestilence did raigne,
Seald vp the doores, and would not let vs forth,
So that my ſpeed to Mantua there was ſtand.

L

Law. Who

The most lamentable Tragedie

Law, 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 fear not were they of infection.

Law. Vnhappie fortune, by my Brotherhood,
The Letter was not nice but full of charge,
Of deare import, and the neglecting it,
May do much danger: Frier John go hence,
Get me an Iron Crow and bring it straight
Vnto my Cell.

John. Brother ile go and bring it thee.

(Exit.)

Law. Now must I to the Monument alone,
Within this three hours will faire Juliet wake,
Shee will be shrew me much that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents:

But I will write againe to Manutia,
And keepe her at my Cell till Romeo come,
Poore liuing Coarfe, clofde in a dead man's Tombe.

Exit.

Enter Paris and his Page.

Par. Giue me thy Torch boy, hence and stand aloofe,
Yet put it out, for I would not be feene:

Vnder yond young Trees lay thee all along,
Holding thy eare close to the hollow ground,
So shall no foote vpon the Church-yard tread,
Being loose, vnfirme with digging vp of Graues,
But thou shall heare it, whistle then to me
As signall that thou hearest some thing approach,
Giu'e me those flowers, do as I bid thee, go.

Pa. I am almost afraid to stand alone,

Here in the Church-yard, yet I will aduenture.

Par. Sweet flower, with flowers thy Bridall bed I strew
O woe, thy Canapie is duft and stones,

Which with sweete water nightly I will dewe,
Or wanting that, with teares diffild by mones,
The obsequies that I for thee will keepe:

Nighly.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Nightly shall be, to strew thy graue and weepe.

Whistle Boy.

The Boy giues warning, something doth approach.

What curfed foote wanders this way to night,

To croſſe my obſequies and true loues right?

What with a Torch? muffle me night a while.

Enter Romeo and Peter.

Ro. Giue me that mattocke and the wrenching Iron,
Hold take this Letter, early in the morning

See thou deliuer it to my Lord and Father,

Giu'e me the light vpon thy life I charge thee,

What ere thou hearest or heeſt, stand all aloofe,

And do not interrupt me in my course.

Why I descend into this bed of death,

Is partly to behold my Ladies face:

But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger,

A precious Ring: a Ring that I must vfe,

Indeare employment, therefore hence be gone:

But if thou jealous doſt returne to prie

In what I farther shall intend to doo,

By heauen I will teare thee loynt by Ioynt,

And strew this hungry Church-yard with thy limbs:

The time and my intents are ſauage wilde,

More fierce and more inexorable farre,

Then empty Tygers, or the roaring lea.

Pet. I will be gone fir, and not trouble ye.

Ro. So shall thou ſhew me friend ſhid, take thou that,
Lie and be p[ro]ſperous, and farewell good fellow.

Pet. For all this fame, ile hide me here about,
His lookes I feare, and his intents I doubt.

Ro. Thou deteſtable mawe, thou wombe of death,
Gorg'd with the deareſt morſell of the earth:

Thus I enforce thy rotten lawes to open,

And in deſpight ile cram thee with more foode.

Pa. This is that banifht haughtie Mountague,
That murdred my loues Cozin, with which greeſe

L 2

It

The most lamentable Tragedie

It is supposed the faire creature died,

And here is come to do some villainous shame

To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him,

Stop thy vnhallowed toyle vile Mountague:

Can vengeance be purfued further then death?

Condemned villaine, I do apprehend thee,

Obey and go with me, for thou muſt die.

Rom. I muſt indeed, and therefore came I hither,

Good gentle youth tempt not a defprate man,

Flie hence and leaue me, thinke vpon these gone,

Let them affright thee. I beſeech thee youth,

Put not an other ſin vpon my head,

By vrging me to ſurie, ô be gone,

By heauen I loue thee better then my ſelfe,

For I come hither armde againſt my ſelfe:

Stay not, begone, liue, and hereafter ſay,

A mad man ſ mercie bid thee run away.

Par. I do defie thy commoration,

And apprehend thee for a Fellon here.

Ro. Wilt thou prouoke me? then haue at thee boy.

Page. O Lord they fight, I will go call the Watch.

Par. O I am ſ laines, if thou be mercifull,

Open the Tombe, lay me with Juliet.

Rom. In faith I will, let me perſue this face,

Mercutios kinsman, Noble Countie Paris,

What ſaid my man, when my betoſſed ſoule

Did not attend him as we rode? I thinke

He told me Paris should haue 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 giue me thy hand,

One witt with me in ſowre misfortunes booke,

Ile burie thee in a triumphant graue.

A Graue, O no, A Lanthorne ſ laughtred youth:

For here lies Juliet, and her bewtie makes

This Vault a feasting prefence full of light.

Death

of Romeo and Juliet.

Death lie thou there by a dead man interd,
How oft when men are at the point of death,
Have they bene merie? which their keepers call

A lightning before death? Oh how may I

Call this a lightning? O my Loue, my wife,

Death that hath fuckt the honey of thy breath,

Hath had no power yet vpon thy bewtie:

Thou art not conquerd, bewties enſigne yet

Iſcrymſon in thy lips and in thy cheeks,

And deaths pale flag is not aduanced there.

Tyranny left thou there in thy bloudie ſheet?

O what more fauour can I do to thee,

Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine,

To ſunder his that was thine enemie?

Forgive me Couzen. Ah deare Juliet

Why art thou yet so faire? I will beleeu,

Shall I beleue that vnſubſtantiall death is amorous,

And that the leane abhorred monſter keepes

Thee here in darke to be his parramour?

For feare of that I ſtill will ſtaie with thee,

And neuer from this pallat of dym night.

Depart againe, come lye thou in my arme,

Heer's to thy health, where ere thou tumbleſt in

O true Appothecarie !

Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kiffe I die.

Depart againe, here, here, will I remaine,

With wormes that are thy Chamber-maides: O here

Will I ſet vp my euerlaſting reſt:

And ſhake the yoke of inauspicious ſtarres,

From this world wearied ſleth, eyes looke your laſt:

Armes take your laſt embrace: And lips, O yous

The doores of breath, ſeale with a righteous kiffe.

A dateleſſe bargaine to ingroſſing death :

Come bitter conduct, come vnſauoury guide,

Thou desperate Pilot, now at once run on

The dashing Rocks, thy ſeaſick weary barke:

Heeres to my Loue, O true Appothecary :

Enter

L 3

The most lamentable Tragedie

Entrer Frier with Lanthorne, Crowe,
and Spade.

Frier. S. Frances be my speede, how oft to night
Haue my old feet stumbled at graues? Whoes there?
Man. Heeres one, a friend, and one that knowes you well,
Frier. Bliffe be vpon you. Tell me good my friend
What torch is yond that vainly lends his light
To grubs and eyeleſſe ſculles : as I diſcerne,
It burneth in the Capels monument.

Man. It doth ſo holy ſir, and thereſs my maſter, one that you
Frier. Who is it?
Man. Romeo.
Frier. How long hath he bin there?
Man. Full halſe an houre.
Frier. Go with me to the Vault.
Man. I dare not ſir.
My Maſter knowes not but I am gone hence,
And fearefully did menace me with death
If I did ſtay to looke on his entents.

Frier. Stay then Ile go alone, ſeare comes vpon me.
O much I ſeare ſome ill vnthriftie thing.
Man. As I did ſleepe vnder this yong tree heere,
I dreamt my maſter and another ſought,
And that my maſter ſlew him.

Frier. Romeo.
A lack alack, what bloud is this which ſtaines
The ſtony entrance of this Sepulchre?
What meane theſe maſterleſſe and goarie ſwords
To lie diſcolour'd by this place of peace?

Romeo, oh pale! who eſſe, what Paris too?
And ſtEEPt in bloud ? ah what an vnkind hower
Is guiltie of this lamentable chance?
The Lady ſtirres.

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

Frier. I heare ſome noyſe Lady, come from that neſt

Of

of Romeo and Iuliet.

Of death, contagion, and vnnaſtall ſleepe,
A greater power then we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents, come, come away,
Thy husband in thy boſome there lies dead:
And Paris too, come ile diſpofe of thee,
Among a Sifterhood of holy Nunnes:
Stay not to queſtion, for the watch is comming,
Come go good Iuliet, I dare no longer ſtay.

Exit,

Iuli. Go get thee hence, for I will not away.
What's heere ? a cup cloſd in my true loues hand?
Poison I fee hath bin his timeleſſe end:
O churle, drunke all, and left no friendly drop
To help me after, I will kiffe thy lips,
Happie ſome poyſon yet doth hang on them,
To make me dye with a restoratiue.
Thy lips are warme.

Enter Boy and Watch.

Watch. Leade boy, which way.
Iuli. Yea noife? then ile be briefe. O happy dagger
This is thy ſheath, there ruſt and let me dye.

Watch boy. This is the place where the torch doth burne.
Watch. The ground is bloudie, ſeare about the Churchyard.
Go ſome of you, who ere you find attach.

Pittifull fight, heere lies the Countie flaine,
And Iuliet bleeding, warme, and newlie dead :
Who heere hath laine this two daies buried.
Go tell the Prince, runne to the Capulets,
Raife vp the Mountagues, ſome others ſeare,
We ſee the ground whereon theſe woes do lye,
But the true ground of all theſe piteous woes
We cannot without circumſtance deſcry.

Enter Romeos man.

Watch. Heres Romeos man, we found him in the Churchyard.
Chief. watch. Hold him in faſetie till the Prince come hither.

Enter Frier, and another Watchman.

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

The most lamentable Tragedie

We tooke this Mattocke and this Spade from him,
As he was comming from this Church-yards side.

Chief watch, A great suf pition, stay the Frier too too.

Enter the Prince.

Prin. What misaduenture is so early vp,
That calls our person from our morning rest?

Enter Capels.

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

Wife. O the people in the street crye Romeo,

Some Juliet, and some Paris, and all runne

With open outcry toward our Monument.

Pr. What feare is this which startles in your cares?

Watch. Soueraine, here lies the County Paris slain,

And Romeo dead, and Juliet dead before,

Warme and new kild.

Prin. Search, seeke & know how this foule murder

Wat. Here is a Frier, and Slaughter Romeos man,

With Instruments vpon them, fit to open
These dead mens Tombes.

Enter Capels and his wife.

Ca. O heauens ! O wife looke how our daughter
This dagger hath misfane, for loe his house
(bleeds! Is empty on the back of Mountague,

And it misheathd in my daughters bosome.

Wife. 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 vp

To fee thy fonne and heire, now earling downe.

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

Grieſe of my ſonnes exile hath ſtopt her breath.

What further woe confpires against mine age?

Prin. Looke and thou ſhalt see.

Moun. O thou vnnaught, what maners is in this,

To presſe before thy father to a graue?

Prin. Scale vp the mouth of outrage for a while,

Till we can cleare these ambiguities,

And

of Romeo and Juliet.

And know their ſpring, their head, their true-difſent,

And then will I be generall of your woe's,

And leade you euen to death, meane time forbeate,

And let mischance be ſlaue to patience,

Bring foorth the parties of ſulpition.

Frier. I am the greatest able to do leaſt,

Yet most ſuſpected as the time and place

Doth make against me of this direfull mutter:

And here I stand both to impeach and purge

My ſelfe condemned, and my ſelfe excufe.

Prin. Then ſay at once what thou doſt know in this?

Frier. 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's Romeos faithfull wife:

I married them, and their ſtolne marriage day

Was Tibalts doomeſday, whose vntimely death

Banifht the new-made Bridegroom from this Title,

For whome, and not for Tibalt, Iuliet pinde.

You to remoue that ſliege of griefe from her
Betrothd and would haue married her perſorce

To Countie Paris. Then comes she to me,

And with wild lookes bid me deuife some meane

To rid her from this ſecond marriage:

Or in my Cell there would she kill her ſelfe.

Then gaue I her (so tuterd by my art)

A ſleeping poſtion, which so tooke effect

As I intended, for it wrought on her

The ſorme of death, meane time I wrot to Romees

That he should hither come as this dire night

To help to take her from her borrowed graue,

Being the time the poſtions force should ceaſe.

But he which bore my letter, Frier John,

Was ſtayed by accident, and yeſter night

Returnd my letter back, then all alone

At the prefixed hower of her waking,

M

Came

The most lamentable Tragedie

Came I to take her from her kindreds Vault,

Meaning to keepe her closely at my Cell,

Till I conveniently could send to Romeo,

But when I came, some minute ere the time

Of her awakening, here vntimely lay.

The Noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.

She wakes, and I entreated her come forth

And beare this worke of heauen with patience:

But then a noyse did scare me from the Tombe,

And she too desperate would not go with me:

But as it seems, did violence on her selfe.

Al this I know, &c. to the marriage her Nurse is private:

And if ought in this misfallied by my fault,

Let my old life be faciſed some hour before his time.

Vnto the rigour of ſeuercſt law.

Prin. We still haue knowne thee for a holy man,

Wheres Romeo's man? what can he say to this?

Balth. I brought my maſter newes of Iuliet's death,

And then in poſt he came from Mantua,

To this fame place. To this fame monument

This Letter he early bid me giue his Father,

And threatened me with death, going in the Vault,

If I departed not, and left him there.

Prin. Giue me the Letter, I will looke on it.

Where is the Counties Page that raſd the Watch?

Sirrah, what made your maſter in this place?

Boy. He came with flowers to strew his Ladies grave,

And bid me stand 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.

Prin. This Letter doth make good the Friars words,

Their course of Loue, the tidings of her death,

And here he writes, that he did buy a poyſon

Of a poore Pothecarie, and there withall,

Came to this Vault, to die and lye with Iuliet.

Where be these enemies? Capulet, Mountague

of Romeo and Iuliet.

See what a ſcourge is laide vpon your hate.

That heauen finds means to kiſ your ioyes with loue,

And I for winking at your diſcords too,

Have loft a brace of kinsmen, all are puniſht.

Cap. O brother Mountague, giue me thy hand,

This is my daughters ioynture, for no more

Can I demaund.

Moun. But I can giue thee more,

For I will raſher ſtatue in pure gold,

That whiles Verona by that name is knowne,

There ſhall no figure at such rate be ſet,

As that of true and faithfull Iuliet.

Capel. As rich as ſhall Romeos by his Ladies ſlie,

Poore facrifices of our enmity.

Prin. A glooming peace this morning with it brings;

The Sun for sorrow will not ſhew his head:

Go hence to haue more talk of these sad things,

Some ſhall be pardoned, and some puniſhed.

For neuer was a Storie of more wo,

Then this of Iuliet and her Romeo.

FINIS.

Seas

# The most lamentable Tragedie

That lets it hop a little from his hand,
Like a poorie prisoner in his twisted gijes,
And with a silken threed, plucks it backe againe,
So louing jealous of his libertie.

Ro. I would I were thy bird.

In. Sweete so would I,

Ro. Would I were sleepe and peace so sweet to rest
The grey eyde morne smiles on the frowning night,
Checkring the Eafterne Clouds with streaks of light,
And darknesse fleckted like a drunkard reeles,

From forth daies pathway, made by *Titans* wheeles.

Exit.

(night,

From forth daies path, and *Titans* burning wheeles:

Now ere the sun aduance his burning eie,

The day to cheere, and nights dancke dewe to drie,
I must vpfill this ofer cage of ours,

In Plants, hearbes, ſtones, and their true quallities :

For

The most lamentable Tragedie

Iul.
Re. O God I haue an ill diuining soule,
Me thinkes I see thee now, thou art so lowe,
As one dead in the bottome of a tombe,
Either my eye-fight failes, or thou lookest pale.
Rom. And truſt me loue, in my eye so do you:
Drie forrow drinkes our bloud. Adue, adue.

Exit.

Iu.
O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle,
If thou art fickle, what doſt thou with him
That is renown'd for faith? be fickle Fortune:
For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him long,
But ſend him backe.

Enter Mother.

La. Ho daughter, are you vp?
Iu. Who is that calls? It is my Lady mother.
Is she not downe so late or vp so early?
What vnaccuſtom'd cauſe procures her hither?
La. Why how now Iuliet?
Iu. Madam I am not well.
La. Euermore weeping for your Cozens death?
What wilt thou wash him from his graue with teares?
And if thou couldſt, thou couldſt not make him liues
Therfore haue done, ſome grieſe ſhews much of loue,
But much of greeſe, ſhewes ſtill ſome want of wit.
Iu. Yet let me weepe, for ſuch a feeling loffe.
La. So ſhall you feele the loffe, but not the friend
Which you weepe for.
Iu. Feeling so the loffe,
I cannot chufe but euer weepe the friend.
La. Wel gyre, thou weepſt not so much for his death,
As that the villaine liues which flaughter'd him.
Iu. What villaine Madam?
La. That fame villaine Romeo.
Iu. Villaine and he be many miles a ſunder:
God padon, I do with all my heart:
And yet no man like he, doth greeue my heart.

La. That