The most Lamentable Tragedie

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

Grego. They must take it in sense, that feel it.

Samp. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand, and this knowne I am a pretty pecc of flesh.

Grega. Tis well thou art not fish, if thou hadst, thou hadst beene poore John: draw thy toole here comes of the house of Mountagues.

Enter two other servingmen.

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

Greg. How, turne thy back and runne?

Samp. Feare me not.

Gra. No marrie, I feare thee.

Samp. Let vs take the Law of our sides, let them begin.

Gra. I will frowne as I paffe by, & let them take it as they lift.

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

Abra. Doe you bite your thumb at vs fir?

Samp. I doe bite my thumb fir.

Samp. Is the Law of our side if I say it?

Gra. No.

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

Gra. Doe you quarrell fir?

Abra. Quarrell fir, no fir.

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

Abra. No better.

Samp. Well fir.

Enter Bennuelio.

Gra. Say better, here comes one of my Maisters kinsmen.

Samp. Yes better fir.

Abra. You lie.

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

Benn. Part fooles, put vp your swords, you know not what you doe

Enter

of Romeo and Iulies.

Enter Tibalt.

Tibalt. VVhat art thou drawne among these hartlesse hinds? turne thee Bennuelio, looke vpon thy death.

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

Tib. VVhat drawne and talke of peace? I hate the word, as I hate hell, all Mountagues and thee: Haue at thee coward.

Enter three or four Citizens with clubs or partysons.

Offi. Clubs, Billes and Partysons, strike, beate them downe, Downe with the Capulets, downe with the Mountagues.

Enter old Capulet in his gowne, and his Wife.

Capu. VVhat noyse 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 florishes his blade in spight of me.

Enter old Mountague and his Wife.

Moun. Thou villaine Capulet, hold me not, let me goe.

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

Enter Prince Eskales, wish his traine.

Prince. Rebellious subiects enemies to peace, Prophaners of this neighbour-killed steele,

Will they not heare? what ho, you men, you beaftes! That quench the fire of your pernicious rage,

With purple fountainesiffuing from your veines:

On paine of torture, from those bloudy hands,

Throw your mislempered weapons to the ground,

And heare the sentence of your moued Prince,

Three ciuill brawles bred of an ayrie word,

By thee old Capulet and Mountague,

Haue thrice difturb'd the quiet of our streets,

And made Verona ancient Citizens,

Cadt by their graue befeeming ornaments,

To wield old partizans, in hands as old,

Cancreed with peace, to party our canered hate;

If euer you disturb our streets againe,

Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

A 3

For

The most Lamentable Tragedie

For this time all the rest depart away:
You Capulet shall goe along with me,
And Mountague come you this afternoone,
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.

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

Ben. Here were the ſeruants of your aduerſarie
And yours close fighting ere I did approach,
I drew to part them, in the instant came
The ſiety Tibault, with his ſword prepard,
Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares,
He ſwong about his head and cut the windes,
Who nothing hurt withall, hift him in ſcorne:
While we were enterechanging thrult 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 am I, he was not at this fray.

Ben. Madam, an houre before the worſcript Sunne.
Peereforth the Golden window of the East,
A troubled mind draue mee to walke abroad,
Where vnderneath the groue of Syramour,
That Westward rooteth from this City ſide:

So early walking did I fee your ſonne,
Towards him I made, but hee was ware of mee,
And ſtole into the couert of the wood,
I measuring his affections by my owne,
Which then moſt ſought, where moſt might not be ſound:
Being one to many by my weary ſelfe,
Purſued my humour, not purſuing his,
And gladly flunned, who gladly fled from me.

Mount. Many a morning hath he there beene ſeene,
With reares augmenting the fresh mornings deaw,
Adding to cloudes, more clouds with his deepe ſighes,

But

of Romeo and Iuliet.

But all so ſoone as the all cheering Sunne,
Should in the fartheſt East begin to draw,
The ſhadie curtaines from Aurora's bed,
Away from light ſteales home my heavy ſonne,
And priuate in his Chamber pennes himſelfe,
Shuts vp his windowes, locks faire day-light o're,
And makes himſelfe an artificiall night,
Blacke and protendous muſt this humour proue,
Vnleſſe good Counſell may the cauſe remoue.

Ben. My noble vncle doe you know the cauſe?

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

Ben. Haue you importunde him by any meane(s)?

Moun. Both by my ſelfe and many other friends,
But hee his owne affections Counſeller,
Is to himſelfe (I will not ſay how true)
But to himſelfe so ſecret and so cloſe,
So farre from ſounding and diſcouery,
As is the bud bit with an enuious worme,
Ere hee can ſpread his ſweete leaues to the ayre,
Or dedicate his beauty to the ſame.

Could we but learne from whence his ſorrowes grow,
We would as willingly giue cure, as know.

Enter Romeo.

Benn. See where hee comes, so pleafe you ſtep aſide,
Ile know his greeuance or bee much denide.

Moun. I would thou wert so happy 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 taſt?

Ben. It was: what ſadneſſe lengthens Romeo's houres?

Rom. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them ſhort.

Ben. In loue.

Romeo. Out.

Ben. Of loue.

Rom.

The most Lamentable Tragedie

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

Ben. Alas that loue so gentle in his view,
Should bee so tyraneous and rough in proofe.

Romeo. Alas that loue, whole view is muffled still,
Should without eyes, see path-waies to his wil:

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

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

Heres much to doe with hate, but more with loues.

Why then I brawling loue, O louing hate,
O any thing of nothing firſt created:

O heauie ſlightneſſe, ſerious vanity,
Mishapen Chaos of welfeeming formes,

Feather of lead, bright ſmoke, cold ſier, 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?

Ben. No Coze, I rather weepe.

Rom. Good heart at what?

Ben. At thy good hearts oppreſſion.

Romeo. Why ſuch is loues tranſgreſſion.

Griefes of my owne lie heauy in my breſt,
Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preſt,

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

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

Loue is a ſmoke made with the fume of ſighes,

Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in louers eyes,

Being vext, a ſea nourisht with louing teares,

What is it els'd a madneſſe moſt diſcreet,

A choking gall, and a preferuing ſweet:

Farewell my Coze.

Ben. Soft, I will goe along.

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

Rom. Tut, Ihaue 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?

Rom. What shall I grone and tell thee?

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

Rom.

of Romeo and Iuliet.

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

A word ill vrgd to one that is so ill:

In ſadneſſe Couzen, I doe loue a woman.

Ben. I aymd so neare, when I ſuppos'd you lou'd.

Rom. A right good marke-man, and ſhee's faire I loue.

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

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

With Cupids arrow, ſhe hath Duane wit:

And in strong proofe of chaſticie well arm'd,

From loues weake childſtich Bow ſhe liues vncharmed.

Shee will not stay the ſiege ot louing tearmes,

Nor bide th' incounter of affailing eyes.

Nor ope her lap to Sainct ſeducing gold,

O ſhe is rich in beautie, onely poore,

That when dyes, with beautie dyes her ſtore.

Ben. Then ſhe hath ſworne, that ſhe will still liue chaſt?

Rom. She hath, and in that ſparing makes huge waſt:

For beautie ſteru'd with her ſeueritie,

Cuts beautie off from all poſteritie.

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

To merit bliffe, by making me deſpaire:

She hath forſworne to loue, and in that vow,

Doe I liue dead, that liue to tell it now?

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

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

Re. By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes,

Examine other beauties.

Re. T'is the way to call hers (exquisite) in queſtion more,
These ſhappie Maskes that kiffe ſaire Ladies browes,

Being blacke, puts vs in minde they hide the ſaire:

He that is ſtrooken blind, cannot ſorget

The precious treaſure of his eye-fight loſt,

Shew me a Miftris that is paſſing faire,

What doth her beautie ſerue but as a note,

Where I may reade who paſt that paſſing faire:

Farewell thou canſt not teach me to ſorget,

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

B

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.

Capu. And Mountague is bound as well as I,
In penalty 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 pittie tis you liu'd at ods so long:
But now my Lord, what say you to my fute?

Capu. But saying ore what I haue said before,
My child is yet a stranger in the World,
Shee hath not seene the change of fourteene yeares,
Let two more Summers wither in their pride
Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a Bride.

Pari. Younger then she, are happy Mothers made,
Capu. And too soone mard are those so early made:
The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she,
She is the hopefull Lady of my earth:
But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent, is but a part,
And she agree, within her scope of choise,
Lyes my consent, and faire according voice:
This night I hold, an old accustomed Feast,
Whereeto I haue inuited many a guest,
Such as loue, and you among the store,
One more (most welcome) makes my number more:
At my poore house, looke to behold this night,
Earth treading starres, that make darke heauen light,
Such comfort as doe lustie yong men seele,
When well appareld April on the heele
Of limping winter treads, euen such delight
Among fresh Fennell buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house, heare all, all fee:
And like her most, whose merit most shall be:
Which on more view of many, mine being one,
May stand in number, though in reckning none.
Come goe with me, goe firrah trudge about,
Through faire Verona, find those persons out,
Whose names are written there, and to them say,

My

of Romeo and Juliet.

My house and welcome, on their pleasure stay.

Exit.

Ser. Find them out whose names are written, Here it is written, that the Shoo-maker should meddle with his yard, and the Tayler with his Laft, the Fisher with his Pensill, and 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 anothers burning,
One paine is lefned by anothers anguish :
Turne giddie, and beholpe by backward turning:
One desperate griefe, cures with an others languish :
Take thou some new infection to the eye,
And the ranke poyson of the old will dye.

Romeo. Your Plantan leafe is excellent for that.

Ben. For what I pray thee?

Rome. For your broken chin.

Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad?

Rem. Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is:
Shut vp in Prifon, kept without my food,

Whipt and tormented: and Godden good fellow,

Ser. Godgigoden, I pray fir can you reade?

Rome. I mine owne fortune in my miserie.

Ser. Perhaps you haue learned it without booke:
But I pray can you reade any thing you fee?

Rom. If I know the Letters and the Language.

Ser. Ye say honestly, reft you merry.

Rom. Stay fellow, I can reade.

He reades the Letter.

SEsigneur Martino, and his wife and daughters: County Anselme
and his beauteous sisters: the Lady widdow of Vtruoio, Seigneur
Placentio, and his louely Neeces: Mercutio and his brother Valen-
tine: mine Uncle Capulet his wife and daughters: my faire Neece
Rosaline, Liuia, Seigneur Valentio, and his Cosan Tybalt: Lucio
and the lively Helena.

A faire Assembly, whither should they come?

Ser.

B 2

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Ser. Vp.

Ro. Whither to supper.

Ser. To our house.

Ro. Whose house?

Ser. My Maisters.

Ro. Indeed I should haue askt you that before.

Ser. Now Ile tell you without asking. My Maister is the great rich Capulet, & if you be not of the house of Mountagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Reft you merry.

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

Ro. When the deutout religion of mine eye,
Maintaines such falfhood, then turne teares to fire:
And thele who often drownd, could neuer die,
Transparent Heretiques be 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 selfe poyfde with her selfe in eyther eye:
But in that Chrifall fcales let there be waid,
Your Ladies loue againft some other maid,
That I will shew you ſhining at this feaſt,
And ſhe shall ſcant ſhow well that now ſhewes beſt.

Ro. Ile goe along no ſuch fight to be ſhowne,
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 maidenhead, at twelue yeare old I had her,
come, what Lamb, what Lady-bird, God for bid,
Wherewith this Girl? what Iuliet.

Enter Iuliet.

Iuliet. How now who calls?

Nur. Your mother.

Iuli.

of Romeo and Iuliet.

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

Wife. This is the matter. Nurſe giue leaue a while, we muſt
talke in ſecret. Nurſe come backe againe, I haue remembred
me, thouſe heare our counſell. Thou knoweſt my daughter's
of a pretty age.

Nurſe. Fas't I can tell her Age unto an houre.

Wife. Shees not fourteene.

Nurſe. Ile lay fourteene of my teeth, & yet to my teene be it ſpoken,
I haue but ſoure, ſhées not fourteene.

How long is it now to Lanimas tide?

Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes.

Nurſe. Euen or odd, of all daies in the yeere come Lammas Eue as
night ſhall ſhe be fourteene. ſusan and ſhe, God reſt all Christian ſouls,
were of an age. Well ſusan is with God, ſhe was to good for me. But
as I ſaid on Lammas Eue at night ſhall ſhe e e e fourteene, then ſhall
ſhee 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 laid worme wood to my
dug sitting in the Sunne under the Done houſe wall. My Lord and
you were then at Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But as I ſaide,
when it did taſt the worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge, and
felt it bitter, pretty ſoole, to ſee it teachie and fallout with the Dug,
Shake quoth the Done-houſe, twas no neeſt I trow to bid mee trudge:
and ſince that time it is a leuen yeares for then ſhe e e stand alone,
nay bi's throode ſhe could haue runne and waddled all about: for euem
the day before ſhe broke her brow, and then my Husband, God be with
his ſoule, a was a merry man, tooke up the child, yea quoth hee, doest
thou fall upon thy face? thou wilt fall backeward when thou haſt more
wit, wilt thou not Iuliet? And by my holy dam, the pretty wretch left
crying, and ſaid I: to see now how a left ſhall come about. I warrant,
and I shall liue a thousand yeares, I neuer ſhould forget it: wilt thou
not Iule quoth he? and pretty ſoole it flinted, and ſaid I.

Old La. Inough 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 upon it brow,
a bompe as big as a young Cocke's stone? a perilous knock, and it cried
bitterly. Tea quoth my hUSBAND, falſt upon thy face, thou wilſ fall

backword

B 3

The most Lamentable Tragedie

backward when thou commest to age: wilt thou not Iule? It flinted,
and said I.

Iuli. And flint thou too, I pray thee Nurfe, say I.

Nurfe. Peace! I haue done: God marketh thee too his grace, thou
waft the prettiest Babe that ere I nurſt, and I might liue to see thee
married once. I haue my wif.

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

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

Nurſe. An houre, were not I onely Nurſe, I would say thou hadst
fucks thy wifdome from thy teat.

Old La. Well thinke of Marriage now, yonger then you
Here in Verona, Ladies of esteeme,
Are made already 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 yong Lady, Lady, such a man as all the world.
Why hees a man of waxe.

Old La. Veronas Summer 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,
Read ore the volume of yong Paris face,
And find delight, writ there with beauties Pen,
Examine euery feuerall liniament,
And see how one an other lends content:
And what obſcurde in this faire Volume lyes,
Find written in the margeant of his eyes.
This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer,
To beautifie him, onely lacke a Couer.

The ſiſh liues in the Sea, and tis much pride
For faire without, the faire within to hide:

That Booke in manies eyes doth ſhare the glorie,
That in gold clapses, locks in the golden ſlorie:
So ſhall you ſhare all that he doth poſſeſſe,

By

of Romeo and Iuliet.

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 moue.

But no more deepe will I endart myne eye

Then your conſent giues ſtrength to make it flye. Enter ſeruing.

Seruing. Madam, the gueſts are come, ſupper ſeru'd vp, you
cald, my yong Lady askt for, the Nurſe curſt in the Pantrie,
and euery thing in extremie: I muſt hence to waite, I beſeech
you follow ſtraight.

Mo. We follow thee, Iuliet the Countie ſtayes.

Nurſe. Goe gyrle, ſeeke happie nights to happie dayes.

Exeunt.

Enter Romeo, Mercurio, Benuolio, with fine or ſix other
Maskers, Torch-bearers.

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

Ben. The date is out of such prolixitie,
Weele haue no Cupid, hood-winckt with a Skarfe,
Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of Lath,
Skaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper.
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,
Being but heauie I will beare the light.

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

Ro. Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing ſhooes
With nimble Soles, I haue a ſoule of lead
So ſtakes me to the ground I cannot moue.

Mer. You are a Louer, borrow Cupids wings,
And ſore with them aboue a common bound.

Romeo. I am too ſore enpearced with his ſhaft,
To ſoare with his light feathers, and ſo bound,
I cannot bound a pitch aboute dull woe,
Vnder loues heauie burthen doe I ſinke.

Mercu. And to ſinke in it ſhould you burthen loue,
Too great oppreſſion for a tender thing.

Romeo

## The most Lamentable Tragedie

Romeo. Is loue a tender thing ? it is to rough,
Too rude, too boiftrous, and it pricks like thorne.

Prick loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe,
Giue me a cafe to put my vifage in,

A vifor for a vifor, what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities:
Here are the beetle browes shall blush for me.

Ben. Come knocke and enter, and no sooner in,
But euery man betake him to his legs,

Ro. A torch for me, let wantons light of heart
Tickle the fenceleſſe ruffes with their heeles:
For I am prouerb'd with a graunſire Phraſe,
Ile be a candle-holder and looke on,
The game was nere ſo faire, and I am dun.

Mer. Tut, duns the mouſe, the Conſtables owne word
If thou art dnn, weele draw thee from the mire
Or ſaue you reuerence loue, wherein thou ſlickeſt
Vp to the cares, come we burne day-light ho.

Rom. Thats not so.

Mer. I meane fir in delay,
We waſte our lights in vaine, Lights Lights by day :

Take our good meaning, for our Iudgements ſits,
Fine times in that, ere once in our fine wits.

Rom. And we meane well in going to this Maske,
But tis no wit to gae.

Mer. Why may one aske ?

Rom. I dreamt a Dreame to night.

Mer. And so did I.

Rom. Well, what was yours?

Mer. That dreamers often lye.

Ro. In bed a ſleepe while they doe dreame things true,

Shee is the Fairis midwife, and ſhee comes in shape no bigger
than an Agat ſtone, on the forefinger of an Alderman, drawne
with a teeme of little atomies, ouer mens noſes as they lie a-
ſleepe her waggon ſpokes made of long ſpinners legs: the couer
of

## of Romeo and Juliet.

of the wings of graſſe-hoppers, her traces of the ſmallest Spider
web, her collers of the moon-ſhines watry beames, her whip of
Crickers bone, the laſh of Philome, her waggoner, a ſmall gray
coated Gnat, not halte ſo bigge as a round little worme, prickt
from the lazie finger of a man. Her Chariot is an empty Hasell
nut, made by the Joyner ſquirtell or old Grub, time out a mind,
the Faries Coach-makers; and in this state the gallops night by
night, through louers brains, and then they dreame of loue. On
Courtiers knees, that dreame on Curties ſtrait, ore Lawyers
fingers who ſtrait dreame on fees, ore Ladies lips who ſtrait on
kiffes dreame, which oft the angry Mab with blifters plagues,
becauſe their breath with ſweet meates tainted are. Sometime
ſhee gallops ore a Courtiers nose, and then dreames he of ſmel-
ling out a ſute: and ſomtime comes ſhee with a tithe-pigs tale,
tickling a Parſons note as a lies a ſleepe, then he dreames of an-
other Benefice. Sometime ſhee diueth ore a ſouldiers necke,
and then dreames hee of cuicing forraine throats, of breaches,
ambuscados, ſpanish blades: Of healths ſiue ſadome deepe, and
then anon drums in his ear, at which hee starts and wakes, and
being thus frighted, ſweares a prayer or two, and ſleepes againe:
this is that very Mab that plats the manes of horſes in the
night: and bakes the Elflocks in foule fluttish haires, which
once untangled, much misfortune bodes.

This is the Hag, when Maids lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learnes them first to beare,

Making them women of good carriage:

This is ſhee.

Romeo. Peace, peace, Mereutio peace,
Thou talkt of nothing.

Merc. True, I talke of dreames:

Which are the children of an idle braine,
B-got of nothing but vaine phantases:

Which is as thin of Iubiance as the ayre,
And more inconſtant then the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosome of the North:

And being angred puffes away from thence,
Turning his ſide to the dew-dropping South.

C

Ben.

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Ben. This wind you talk of, blowes vs from ourSELVES,
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Ro. I feare too early, for my mind miſgives,
Some conſequence yet hanging in the STARRES,
Shall bitterly begin his ſearefull date
With this nights reuels, and expire the terme
Of a deſpised life eſtinde in my breſt :
By ſome vile forſeit of vntimely death.
But he that hath the ſtrarrage 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. Wheres Potpan that he helps not to take away?
He ſhift a Trencher, he ſcrape a Trencher ?

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

Ser. Away with the loyn-ſtooles, remoue the Court-cubbert,
looke to the Plate, good thou, ſaue mee a piece of Marchpane,
and as thou loues me, let the Porter let in Susan Grindstone, and
Nell, A-thonie and Potpan.

2. I Boy readie.

Ser. You are lookt for, and cald for, askt for, and ſought 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
Unplagued with Cornes, will walke about with you :
Ah my Miſtreſſes, which of you all
Will now denie to dance, ſhe that makes daintie,
She Ile ſweare hath Cornes: an I come neare you now?
Welcome Gentlemen, I haue ſene the day
That I haue worne a Visor and could tell

A

of Romeo and Juliet.

A whispering Tale in a faire Ladies eare :
Such as would please:tis gone,tis gone,tis gone,
You are welcome Gentlemen, come Muficians play :

Musick players, and they dance.

A hall, a hall, giue roome,and foote it girles,
More light you Knaues, and turne the Tables vp :
And quench the fire, the roome is growne too hot.
Ah ſirrah, this vnlookt for ſport comes well :
Nay fit, nay fit, good Cozin Capulet,
For you and I are paſt our dancing dayes :
How long iſt now ſince laſt your ielſe 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 ſiue 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 two yeares agoe.

Ro. What Ladie is that which doth in rich the hand
Of yonder Knight?

Ser. I know not fir.

Ro. O ſhe doth teach the Torches to burne bright :
It ſeemes ſhe hangs vpon the cheeke of night,
As a rich Iewell in an Æthiops eare,
Beautie too rich for vſe, for earth too deare :
So ſhewes a ſnowe Doue trooping with Crowes,
As yonder Lady ore her fellowes ſhowes :
The meaſure done, Ile watch her place of ſtand,
And touching hers, make bleſſed my rúde hand.
Did my heart loue till now, ſorſweare it ſight,
For I nere ſaw true beautie till this night.

Tib. This by his voyce, ſhould be a Mountague.
Fetch me my Rapier Boy, what dares the ſlaue
Come hether couerd with an antique face,

Ca

To

The moſt Lamentable Tragedie

To fleere and ſcorne at our ſolemnitie?

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

Capu. Why how now kinsman wherefore ſtorme you for?

Tib. Vncle this a Mountague our foe:

A Villaine that is hither come in ſpight,
To ſcorne at our ſolemnitie this night.

Capu. Yong 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 well gouernd youth,

I would not for the wealth of all this Towne,

Here in my house doe him disparagement:

Therefore be patient, take no note of him,

It is my will, the which if thou respect,

Shew a faire prefence, and put off their frownes,

An ill befeeming ſemblance for a Feast.

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

Ile not endure him.

Capu. He shall be endured.

What goodman Boy, I ſay he shall, goe too,

Am I the Maſter here or you? goe too,

Youle not endure him; God shall mend my ſoule.

Youle make a mutineie among my gueſts:

You will get a Cock a hoope, youle be the man.

Tib. Why Vncle, tis a ſhame.

Capu. Goe too, goe too.

You are a ſawcy Boy, it ſo indeed?

This tricke may chance to ſcath you I know what.

You muſt contrary me, marry tis time,

Well ſaid my hearts, you are a Princox, goe,

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

Ile make you quiet (what) chearely my hearts.

Tis. Patience perſorce, with wiltull choler meeting,

Makes my ſleſh tremble in their different greeting:

I will

of Romeo and Iuliet.

I will withdraw but this intrusion ſhall

Now ſeeming ſweet, conuenſo to bitter gall.

Exit.

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

My lips two blushing Pilgrims did readie stand,

To ſmooth that rough touch with a tender kiffe.

Iu. Good Pilgrime you doe wrong your hand too much
Which mannerly deuotion ſhewes in this,

For Saints haue hands, that Pilgrims hands do tuch,

And palme to palme is holy Palmers kiffe.

Ro. Haue not Saints lips and holy Palmers too?

Iuli. I Pilgrim, lips that they muſt ſe in Prayer,

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

They pray, (grant thou) leaſt faith turne to deſpaire.

Iu. Saints doe not moue, though grant for Prayers ſake.

Ro. Then moue not while my Prayers eſſe & I take,

Thus from my lips, by thine my ſin is purg'd.

Iu. Then haue my lips the ſin that they haue ſooke,

Ro. Sin from my lips, O trefpaffe ſwectly vtge.

Give me my ſin againe.

Iuli. You kiffe bith booke.

Nur. Madam your mother craues a word with you,

Rom. What is her mother?

Nur. Marrie Batcheler,

Her mother is the Ladie of the house,

And a good Ladie, and a wife and vertuous,

Inurſt her daughter that you talkt withall:

I tell you, he that can lay hold of her,

Shall haue the chincks.

Rom. Is ſhe a Capulet?

O deare account! my life is my foes debt.

Ben. Awaſ, be gone, the ſport is at the beſt.

Rom. I to I care, the more is my vnreſt.

Capu. Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone.

We have a trifling ſooth in this Banquet towards :

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

I thanke you honest Gentlemen, good night.

More-

The most Lamentable Tragedie

More Torches here, come on, then lets to bed.

Ah sirrah, by my lay it waxes late,

lie to my rent.

Iuli. Come hither Nurſe, what is yond Gentleman?

Nurſ. The ſonne and heire of old Tyberio.

Iuli. What he that now is going out of the door?

Nurſ. Marrie that I thinke be yong PetruchEO.

Iuli. What he that followes here that would not dance?

Nurſ. I know not.

Iuli. Goe aske his name, if he be marryed,

My graue is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurſ. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague,

The only ſonne of your great Enemie.

Iuli. My only Loue ſprung from my only hate,

Too early ſeene, vnknowne, and knowne too late,

Prodigious birth of loue it is to mee,

That I muſt loue a lothed Enemie.

Nurſ. What ts? what ts?

Iu. A Rime I learnt euen now

Of one I danſt withall.

One calls within Iuliet.

Nurſ. Anon, anon :

Come lets away, the strangers are all gone.

Exeunt.

Chorus.

Now old desire doth in his death-bed lye,

And yong affection gapes to be his heire,

That faire for which loue gron'de for and would dye,

With tender Iuliet matcht, is now not faire.

Now Romeo is beloved, and loues againe,

A like bewitched by the charme of lookes :

But to his foe ſuppoſde he muſt complaine,

And ſhe ſteale loues sweet bait from ſearefull hookes :

Being held a foe, he may not haue acceſſe

To breath ſuch vowes as Louers ſe to ſweare,

And ſhe as much in loue, her meanes much leſſe,

To meete her new beloved any where :

But

of Romeo and Iuliet.

But paſſion lends them Power, time meanes to meete,

Tempring extremities with extreame ſweete.

Enter Romeo alone.

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

Enter Benuolio, with Mercutio.

Ben. Romeo, my Cozen Romeo, Romeo.

Mer. He is wise, & on my life hath ſtolne him home to bed.

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

Call good Mercutio:

Mer. Nay Ile coniure too.

Romeo. humours, madam, paſſion, louer,

Appeare thou in the likeneſſe of a ſigh,

Speake but one rime and I am ſatisfied:

Cry but ay me, pronounce but loue and die,

Speake to my Goffip Uenuſ one faire word,

One nickname for her pur-blind ſonne and heire

Yong Abraham Cupid: he that ſhot ſo true,

When King Cophetua lou'd the Begger-maide.

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 foote, ſtraight leg, and quiuering 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, t'would anger him
To raſe a ſpirit in his miſtreſſe circle,

Of some ſtrange nature, letting it there stand,

Till ſhee had laide it, and coniured it downe,

That were ſome ſpight.

My inuocation is faire and honest, and in his miſtreſſe name.

I coniure onely but to raſe vp him.

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

To be conſorted with the humerous night:

Blind is his loue, and beſt beſits the darke.

Mer.

The moſt Lamentable Tragedie

Metr. If loue be blind, loue cannot hit the marke,
Now will he fit vnder a Medler tree,
And wifh his mistresse were that kind of fruit,
As maides call Medless when they laugh alone,
O *Romeo* that shee were, O that shee were
Anopen & catera, and thou a Poperin Peare.
*Romeo* good-night Ile to my Truckle-bed,
This Field-bed is to cold for me to sleepe,
Come shall we goe?

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

Exeunt.

Ro. He icaſts at ſcarres that neuer felt a wound,
But ſoft, what light through yonder window breakes?
It is the Eaſt, and *Iuliet* is the Sunne.
Arise faire Sunne and kill the enuious Moone,
Who is already ſicke and pale with griefe,
That thou her maide at ſare more faire then ſhee :
Be not her maide ſince ſhee is enuious,
Her vestall liuerie is but ſicke and greene,
And none but fooles doe weare it, caſt it off:
It is my Lady, O it is my Ioue, O that ſhee knew ſhee were,
Shee ſpeakes yet ſhee ſayes nothing, what of that?
Her eye discourses. I will anſwere it:
I am to bold tis not to me ſhee ſpeakes:
Two of the faireſt ſtarres in all the heauen,
Having ſome busines, doe entreat her eyes,
To twinckle in their ſpheres till they returne,
What if her eyes were there, they in her head,
The brightneſſe of her чeeke would shame those ſtarres,
As day. light doth a lampe, her eye in heauen,
Would through the ayrie region ſtare to brightr,
That birds would ſing, and thinke it were not night:
See how ſhee leanes her чeeke vpon her hand,
O that I were a gloue vpon that hand,
That I might touch that чeeke.

Iuliet. Aye.

Rom. Shee ſpeakes.

Oh

of Romeo and Iuliet.

Oh ſpeake againe bright Angell, for thou art
As glorious to this night being ore my head,
As is a winged Meſſenger of Heauen
Vnto the white vp-turned wondring eyes,
Of Mortals that fall backe to gaze on him,
When he beſtrides the lazie puffing Cloudes,
And ſayles vpon the boſome of the Ayre.

Iuliet. 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*.

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

Iuliet. Tis but thy name that is my Enemie:
Thou art thy ſelfe, though not a *Mountague*,
What's *Mountague*? it is not hand nor foote,
Nor armes nor face, O be some other name
Belonging to a man.
What's in a name? that which we call a Rose,
By any other word would smell as sweet,
So *Romeo* would, were he not *Romeo* cald,
Retayne that deare perſection which he owes,
Without that title, *Romeo* doſe thy name,
And for thy name which is no part of thee,
Take all my ſelfe.

Ro. I take thee at thy word:
Call me but Loue, and Ile be new baptizde,
Hence-forth I neuer will be *Romeo*.

Iuliet. What man art thou, that thus beſcreend in night
So ſtumbleſt on my counſell?

Ro. By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am,
My name deare Saint is hatefull to my ſelfe,
Because it is an Enemy to thee,
Had I it written, I would teare the word.

Iuliet. My eares haue yet not drunke a hundred words
Of thy tongues vttering, yet I know the ſound.

Art thou not *Romeo*, and a *Mountague*?

Rom. Neither faire Maide, if either thee dislike.

D

Iu.

The most Lamentable Tragedie

In. How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
The Orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
And the place death, considering who thou art
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

Re. With loues light wings did I ore-perch these walls,
For thony limits cannot hold loue out,
And what loue can doe, that dares loue attempt:
Therefore thy kinsmen a reno stop to me.

In. If they doe see thee, they will murther thee.

Re. Alacke there lies more perill in thine eye,
Then twenty of their words, looke thou but sweete,
And I am proofe against their enmity.

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

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

Iuli. By whose direction foundst thou out this place?

Re. By loue that first did prompt me to enquire,
He lent me counsell, and I lent him eyes:

I am no Pylot, yet wert thou as farre
As that vaft shore washt with the farthest sea,
I should aduenture for such marchandise

Iuli. Thou knowest the maske of night is on my face,
Elfe would a maiden blush bepaint my cheeke,
For that which thou haft heard me speake to night,
Faine would I dwell on forme, faire, faire, denie
What I haue spoke, but farewell complement.

Doeft thou loue me? I know thou wilt say I:
And I will take thy word, yet if thou swearst,
Thou maieft proue false; at louers periuries

They say loue laughs, oh gentle Romeo,
If thou doft 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 Mountague I am too fond:

And

of Romeo and Juliet.

And therefore thou maieft thinke my behauiour light,
But trust me Gentleman, Ile proue more true,
Then those that haue more coying to be strange,
I should haue beene more steange, I must confesse,
But that thou ouer heardst ere I was ware
My true loue passion, therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yeelding to light loue,
Which the darke night hath so discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed Moone I vow,
That tips with filuer all these fruite tree tops.

In. O sweare not by the Moone th'inconstant Moone,
That monthly changes in her circled orbe,
Leaft that thy loue proue likewife variable.

Rom. What shall I sweare by?

Iuli. Doe not sweare at all:
Or if thou wilt, sweare by thy gratious selfe,
Which is the God of my Idolatry,
And Ile beleeue thee.

Re. If my hearts deare loue.

In. Well doe not sweare, although Ioy in thee:
I haue no ioy of this contract to night,
It is too rash, too vnaduise, too sudden,
Too like the lightning which doth cease to bee,
Ere, one can say, it lightens, sweet good night:
This bud of loue by Summers ripening breath,
May proue a beautious flower when next wee meete,
Goodnight, goodnight, as sweete repose and rest,
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast.

Re. O wilt thou leaue me so vnSATISFIED?

In. What satisfaction canst thou haue to night?

Re. Th'exchange of thy loues faithfull vow for mine.

In. I gaue thee mine before thou didst request it:
And yet I would it were to giue againe.
Re. Wouldst thou withdraw it, for what purpose loue?

In. But to be franke and giue it thee againe,
And yet I wish but for the thing I haue,
My bounty is as boundlesse as the sea,

D 2

My

My loue as deepe, the more I giue to thee

The more I haue, for both are infinite.

I heare some noyle within, deare Loue adue:

Anon good Nurse, sweet Mountague be true:

Stay but a little, I will come againe.

Ro. O bleffed, bleffed night, I am afeard

Being in night, all this is: but a dreame,

Too flattering sweet to be subſtantiall.

Iu. Three words deare Romeo, & goodnight indeed,
If that thy bent of loue be honourable,

Thy purpose Marriage, ſend me word to morrow,

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 I lay,

And follow thee my Loue throughout the World. Madam.

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

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

To cease thy fute, and leaue me to my griefe,

Tomorrow will I ſend.

Ro. So thrive, my ſoule.

Iu. A thousand times good-night.

Ro. A thousand times the worse to want thy light,
Loue goes toward loue as Schoole-boyes from their Bookes.

But loue from loue, toward Schoole with heauie lookes.

Enter Juliet againe.

Iu. Hift Romeo, hift, O for a Falkners voice,

To lure this Taffell gentle backe againe,

Bondage is hoarſe, and may ſpeake aloude,

Elſe would I teare the Cauel where Eccho lyes,

And make her ayrie tongue more hoarſe, then myne

With repetition of my Romeo.

Ro. It is my loue that calls upon my name.

How filuer sweet, found Louers tongues by night,

Like softest Musiſke to attending eares.

Iu. Romeo.

Rom. My Deere.

Iul. What a clock to morrow

Shall

## of Romeo and Juliet.

Shall I ſend to thee?

Ro. By the houre of nine.

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

Ro. Let me stand here till thou remember it.

Iuli. I shall forget, to haue thee still stand there,
Remembring how I loue thy company.

Ro. And Ile still ſay, to haue thee still ſorget,
Forgetting any other home but this.

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

That lets it hop a little from his hand,

Like poore Prisoner in his twiſted gyues.

And with a ſilken thred plucks it backe againe,

So louing Jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would I were thy Bird.

Iu. Sweet so would I,
Yet I should kill thee with much cheriſhing

Good night, good night.

Parting is ſuch sweet ſorrow,

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

Ro. Sleepe dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breſt.

Would I were sleepe and peace so ſweet to reſt

Hence will I to my ghostly Friers close Cell,

His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to tell.

Exit.

Enter Fryer alone with a Basket.

Fri. The grey eyde morne ſmiles on the frowning night
Checkring the Eafterne Cloudes with ſtreakes of light:

And fleckeld darkneſſe like a drunkard reeles,

From forth dayes path, and Titans burning wheeles,

Now ere the Sunne aduance his burning eye,

The day to cheere; and nights danke dew to dry,

I muſt vpſell this Oſier Cage of ours,

With balefull weeds, and precious iuyced flowers,

The earth that's natures mother in her Tombe,

What is her burying Graue, that is her wombe:

And

And from her wombe children of diuers kind
We fucking on her naturall boſome find :
Many for many vertures excellent :
None but for ſome, and yet all different.
O mickle is the powerfull grace that lyes
In Plants, Hearbs, Stones, and their true qualities :
For nought ſo vile, that on the earth doth lye,
But to the earth ſome ſpeciall good doth giue :
Nor ought ſo good, but ſtrain'd from that faire vſe,
Reuolts from true birth, ſtumbling on abufe.
Vertue it ſelfe-turnes vice being miſ-applied,
And vice ſometime by action dignified.

Enter Romeo.

Within the Infant rinde of this weake flower
Poyſon hath residenſe, and Medicine power !
For this being ſmelt with that part, cheares each part,
Being taſted ſlayes all ſences with the heart.
Two ſuch oppoſed Kings, encampe 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.

Rō. Good morrow father.

Fri. Benedicite.

What early tongue ſo sweet ſaluteth me ?
Yong ſonne, it argues a diſtempered head,
So ſoone to bid good morrow 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 lims, there golden ſleepe doth raigne,
Therefore thy earlinesſe doth me aſſure,
Thou art vprouſ'd with ſome diſtemp'rature :
Or if not ſo, then here I hit it right,
Our Romeo hath not beene in bed to night,

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

Fri. God pardon ſin, waſt thou with Rofaline?

Rom. With Rofaline, my ghastly father no,

## of Romeo and Juliet.

I haue forgot that name, and that names woe.

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

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

I haue beene feasting with mine enemie,
Where on a ſudden one hath wounded me.

That's by me wounded, both our remedies

Within thy helpe and holy phyſick lyes :
I beare no hatred bleſſed man : for loe,

My interceſſion likewife ſteads my foe,

Fri. Be plaine good ſonne and homely in thy drifts,
Ridling Conſeſſion, finds but ridling Shriſt.

Rom. Then plainly know my hearts deare loue is ſet
On the faire daughter of rich Capulet :
As mine on her, ſo hers is ſet on mine
And all combin'd, ſaue what thou muſt combine
By holy Marriage: when and where, and how,
We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow :
Ile tell thee as we paſſe, but this I pray,
That thou confent to marrie vs to day.

Fri. Holy S. Francis what a change is here ?
Is Rofaline that thou didſt loue ſo deare,
So ſoone forſaken ? yong mens loue then lyes
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Iesu Maria, what a deale of brine
Hath waſht thy ſallow cheekes for Rofaline?

How much salt water throne away in waſte,
To ſeason loue that of it doth not taſte.
The Sun not yet thy ſighes, from Heauen cleares
Thy old grones yet ring in my ancient eares :
Lo here vpon thy cheeke the ſtaine doth fit,
Of an old teare that is not waſht off yet.

If ere thou waſt thy ſelfe, and theſe woes thine,
Thou and theſe woes, were all for Rofaline.
And art thou chang'd ? pronounce this ſentence then,
Women may fall, when there's no ſtrength in men.

Rō. Thou chid it me oft or louing Rofaline.

Fri. For doting, not for louing Pupill mine.

Rō.

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Re. And badst me bury loue.

Fri. Not in a graue,

To lay one in, another out to haue.

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

Re. I pray thee chide me not, her I loue now
Doth grace for grace, and loue for loue allow:
The other did not so.

The other did not so.

Fri. O she knew well,

Thy loue did read by rote, that could no spell :

But come yong Wauerer, come and goe with me,

In one respect I lie thy affixst be:

For this Alliance may so happie proue,

To turne your households rancor to pure loue.

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

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

Exeunt.

Enter Benuolio and Mercutio.

Mer. Where the Deu’le should this Romeo be? came hee not
home to night?

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

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

Ben. Tibalt, the Kinsman to old Capule, 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 Mafter, how he dares
being dared.

Mer. Alas, poore Romeo, hee is already dead, ſtab’d with a
white Wenches blacke Eye, run through the care with a Loue-
Song, the very Pinne of his heart, cleft with the blinde Bow-
boyes But-ſhaft, and is he a man to encounter Tibalt?

Rom. Why, what is Tibalt?

Mer. More then Prince of Cats. O hee’s the couragious
Capraine of Complements : he fights as you ſing Prick-fong,
keeps time, diſtance and proportion, hee reſts his minum reſts,
one two and the third in your boſome : the very Butcher of a
ſilke

of Romeo and Iuliet.

ſilke button a dualiſt a dualiſt a Gentleman of the very firſt
house of the firſt and ſecond caſe, ah the immortall Paſſado,
the punto reuerſo, the Hay.

Ben. The what?

Mer. The Pox of ſuch antique lifſing affecting phanta-
cies, theſe new tuners of accent: by Ieſu a very good blade, a
very tall man, a very good whole. Why is not this a lamenta-
ble thing grandſir, that wee ſhould be thus affiſted with theſe
ſtrange flies: theſe ſashion-mongers, theſe pardona-mees, who
ſtand ſo much on the new forme, that they cannot ſit at eafe on
the old bench. O their bones, their bones.

Enter Romeo.

Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

Mer. Without his Roe, like a dryed Hering, O ſleſh, ſleſh,
how art thou ſinſhified? now is he for the numbers that Petrarch
flowed in: Laura to his Lady, was a kitchin wench, marrie ſhee
had a better loue to berime her: Dido a dowdie, Cleopatra a
Gipsie, Helten and Hero, hildings and harlots: Thisbie a grey
eye or ſo, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo Bonieur, there’s
a French ſaluation to your frenchſlop: you gaue vs the coun-
terfeit fairely laſt night.

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

Mer. the ſlip ſir, the ſlip, can you not conceiue?

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

Mer. That’s as much as to ſay, ſuch a caſe as yours con-
ſtraines a man to bow in the hams.

Romeo. Meaning to curſe.

Mer. Thou haſt moſt kindly hit it.

Rom. A moſt curteous exposition.

Mer. Nay I am the very pincke of curſeſſe;

Romeo. Pinck for flower.

Mer. Right.

Romeo. Why then is my pump well flowred.

Mer. Sure wit, follow mee this ieſt, now till thou haſt
worne out thy pump, that when the ſingle ſole of it is worne,
the

E

The most Lamentable Tragedie

the ieast may remaine after the wearing, solely singular,

Ro. O single solde ieast, solely singular for the singlenesse,

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

Ro. Swits and spurs, swits and spurs, or Ile cry a match.

Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wild goose chase, I am done:
For thou haft more of the wilde goose in one of thy wits, then
I am sure I haue in my whole fiue. Was I with you there for
the goose?

Ro. Thou waft neuer with mee for any thing, when thou waft
not there for the goose.

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

Ro. Nay, good goose bite not.

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

Ro. And is it not well seru'd in to a sweet goose?

Mer. Oh here's 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
goose, proues thee farre and wide, a broad goose.

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 Naturall, that runs lolling vp and downe to hide
his bable in a hole.

Ben. Stop there, stop there.

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

Ben. Thou wouldst else haue made thy tale large.

Mer. O thou art deceu'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. Heres goodly geare.

Enter Nurse and her man.

A sayle a sayle.

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

Nur. Peter:

Peter. Anon.

Nur. My fan Peter.

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

Nurse. God ye good morrow Gentlemen.

Mer.

of Romeo and Inlie.

Mer. God ye goodden faire Gentlewoman.

Nurse. Is it goodden?

Mer. Tis no lesse I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the dyall
is now vpon the pricke of noone.

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

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

Nurse. By my troth it is well faide, for himselfe to marre
quath a: Gentlemen can any of you tell me where I may finde
the yong Romeo ?

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

Nurse. You say well.

Mer. Yea is the worst well, very well tooke, if faith, wifely,
wifely.

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

Ben. Shee will endite him to some supper.

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

Ro. What haft thou found?

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

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

But a hare that is hore is too much for a score, when it hoares
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, Lady.

Exeunt.

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

Romeo. A Gentleman Nurse, that loues to heare himselfe
talke, and will fpeake more in a minute, then hee will stand to
in a moneth.

Nur. And a fpeake any thing against me, Ile take him down,
and a were Iustier then he is, and twentie such Jacks: and if I
cannot, ile finde that of those that shall: fcuruie knaue, I am none
of his Gil-flurts, I am none of his skaines mates, and thou must
stand

stand

E 2

The most Lamentable Tragedie

stand by too and suffer euery Knaue to vse mee at his pleasurè.

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

Nur. Now afore God, I am so vext, that euery part about me quiuers, skumie Knaue: pray you fir a word: and as I told you, my yong Ladie bid me enquire you out, what she bid mee 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 groffe kind of behauiour as they say: for the Gentlewoman is yong; and therefore, if you should deale double with her, truely it were an ill thing to be offered to any Gentlewoman, and verie weake dealing.

Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy Lady and Mistris, I protest vnto thee.

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

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

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

Rom. Bid her deuise some meanes to come to thrift this afternoone,

And there she shall at Fryer Lawrence Cell

Be shrivied and married: here is for thy paines.

Nur. No truly fir not a pennie.

Rom. Go too, I say you shall.

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

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

And bring thee Cords made like a tackled braire,

Which to the high top gallant of my joy,
Must be my Conuoy in the secret night.

Farewell be truſtie and Ile quite thy paines:

Farewell, commend me to thy Mistris.

Nur.

of Romeo and Juliet.

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

Ro. What ſay't thou my deare Nurse ?

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

Ro. Warrant thee my mans as true as ſeele.

Nur. Well fir, my Mistriffe is the Sweetest Ladie, Lord, Lord, when 'twas a little prating thing. O there is a Nobleman in Towne one Paris, that would faire lay Knife aboard: but she good ſoule had as lecue ſee a Tode, a very Tode as ſee him: I angerer sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man, but Ile warrant you, when I ſay so, she looks as pale as any clout in the verfall World, doth not Rosemarie and Romeo begin both with a Letter?

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

Nur. A commer that's the Dogges name. R. is for the no, I know it beginnes with some other letter, and ſhee hath the prettie ſententious of it, of you and Rosemary, that it would doe you good to heare it.

Rom. Commend me to thy Lady.

Nur. I a thousand times. Peter ?

Pet. Anon.

Nur. Before and apace.

Exit.

Enter Iuliet.

Iu. The clocke fltooke nine when I did ſend the Nurse,
In half an hour she promised to returne,

Perchance she cannot meete him, that's not so :

Oh she is lame, loues Heraulds should be thoughts,

Which ten times faster glides then the Sunnes beames,

Drining backe ſhadowes ouer lowring hils:

Therefore doe nimble pinion'd Doues draw loue,

And therefore hath the winde swift Cupid wings:

Now is the Sunne vpon the highmoſt hill.

Of this dayes iouney, and from nine till twelue,

Is three long hours, yet she is not come.

Had she affections and warme youthfull bloud,

Shee would be as swift in motion as a ball,

My

The most Lamentable Tragedie

My words would bandie her to my sweet Loue.
And his to me, but old folkes, many faine as they were dead,
Vnweildie, flow, heauie, and pale as lead.

Enter Nurse.

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

Nur. Peter stay at the gate.

Iu. Now good sweet Nurse, O Lord, why look'ft thou sad ?
Though newes, be sad, yet tell them merrily.
If good thou shan'ft the Mufick of sweet newes,
By playing it to me, with so lower a face.

Nur. I am a weary, gine me leaue a while,
Fye how my bones ake, what a jaunt haue I had ?

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

Nur. Iesu what haft, can you not stay a while ?
Doe you not see that I am out of breath ?

Iu. How art thou out of breath, when thou haſt breath
To stay to me, that thou art out of breath ?
The excufe that thou doſt make in this delay,
Is longer then the Tale thou doſt 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 choice, you know not
how to choose a man: Romeo, no not he, though his face be bet-
ter then any mans, yet his legge excels all mens, and for a hand
and a foot and body, though they bee not to bee talkt on, yet
they are paſt compare: he is not the flower of curtesie, but Ile
warrant him as gentle as a Lambe: goe 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 pieces.

My backe a tother ſide, a my backe, my backe:
Befrew your heart for ſending me about

To

of Romeo and Iuliet.

To catch my death with iaunting vp and downe.

Iu. Iſaith I am ſorry that thou art not well.

Sweet, sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me what ſayes my Loue ?

Nur. Your Loue ſayes like an honest Gentleman,
And a curteous, and a kind, and a handsome,
And I warrant a vertuous, where is your mother ?

Iu. Where is my mother, why, shee is within, where should
she bee ?

How odly thou replyeſt :

Your Loue ſayes like an honest Gentleman,
Where is your Mother ?

Nur. O Gods Lady deare.

Are you so hot, marry come vp I trow,

Is this the poulits for my aking bones :

Hence-forward doe your Meflages your ſelfe.

Iu. Here's ſuch a coyle, come what ſayes Romeo ?

Nur. Haue you got leaue to goe to ſhrift to day ?

Iu. I haue.

Nur. Then high you hence to Fryer Lawrence Cell.
There ſayes a Husband to make you a Wife:

Now comes the wanton bloud vp in your cheekes,
They'le be in Scarlet ſtraight at any newes :

Hie you to Church, I muſt another way,

To fetch a Ladder by the which your Loue
Muſt 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.

Goe Ile to dinner, hye you to the Cell.

Iu. Hie to high fortune, honest Nurse farewell.

Exulto

Enter Frier and Romeo.

Fri. So ſmile the Heauens upon this holy Act,
That after houres, with ſorrow chide vs not.

Ro. Amen, Amen, but come what ſorrow can,
It cannot counteruail the exchange of joy

That one ſhort minute giues me in her fight :

Doe thou but close our hands with holy words,

Then

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Then loue-deувouring death doe what he dare,
It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. These violent delights haue violent ends,
And in their triumph dye like fire and powder;
Which as they kiffle consume. The sweeteest honey
Is loth for me in his owne deliciousneſſe,
And in the taſte confounds the appetite.
Therefore loue moderately, long loue doth ſo,
Too ſwift, arriues at tardie, as too ſlow.

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the Ladie, Oh ſo light afoot
Will nere weare out the euerlaſting flint,
A Louer may beſtride the Goffamours,
That idles in the wanton Summer Ayre,
And yet not fall, ſo light is vanitie.

In. Good euen to my ghodyl Conſeſſor.

Fri. Romeo ſhall thanke thee daughter for vs both.

In. As much to him, eſſe in 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 Muſickes tongue,

Vnfold the imagin'd happinesſe that both

Receiue 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 ſumme vp some of halſe my wealth.

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

Enter Mercutio, Benuolion, and men.

Ben. I play thee good Mercutio lets retire,
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad :
And if we meet, we shall not ſcape a brawle, for now theſe hot
dayes, is the mad bloud stirring.

Mer.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Mer. Thou art like one of these ſellowes, that when bee en-
ters the confines of a Tauerne, claps mee his ſword vpon the
table, and ſayes, God ſend mee no need of thee: and by the o-
peration of the ſecond cup, drawes him on the Drawer, when
indeed there is no need.

Ben. Am I like ſuch a ſellow ?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a lacke in thy moode, as
any in Italie: and aſſoone moued to bee moodie, and aſſoone
moodie to be moued.

Ben. And what too ?

Mer. Nay and there were two ſuch, wee ſhould haue none
shortly, for one would kill the other: thou, why thou wilt
quarrell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire leſſe in
his beard, then thou haſt: thou wilt quarrell with a man for
cracking Nuts, hauing no other reaſon, but becauſe thou haſt
haſell eyes: what eye, but ſuch an eye, would ſpie out ſuch a
quarrell? thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egge is full of meat,
and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egge for quar-
relling: thou haſt quarreld with a man for coſſing in the ſtreet,
becauſe he hath wakened thy dog that hath layne aſſleepe in the
Sun. Didſt thou not fall out with a taylor for wearing his new
doublet before Easter: with another, for tying his new ſhoes
with old riband, and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling?

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

Mer. The fee ſimple, O ſimple.

Enter Tibalt, Petruchio, and others.

Ben. By my head here comes the Capulets.

Mer. By my heele I care not.

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

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

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

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

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

F

Tt.

Ti. Mercutio thou confortest with Romeo.

Mer. Confort, what do'st thou make vs Minstrels? and thou
make Minstrels of vs, look to heare nothing but discords, here's
my Fiddlesticke, heere's that shall make you dance zounds
confort.

Ben. We talke here in the publike haunt of men:
Either withdraw vnto some private place,

Or reason coldly of your grieuances :

Or else depart, here all eyes gaze on vs.

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

Enter Romeo.

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

Mer. But Ile be hang'd fir, if he weare your Liuery:
Marry goe before to field, heele be your follower,
Your Wor'ship in that fense may call him man.

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

Ro. Tibalt, the reason that I haue to loue thee,
Doth much excufe the appertayning rage
To such a greeting : Villaine am I none.

Therefore farewell I see thou know'st me not.

Ti. Boy, this shall not excufe the iniuries
That thou haft done me therefore turne and draw.

Ro. I doe protest I neuer injured 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 my owne, be satisfied.

Mer. O calme dishonourable, vile submission :
Alla fucatho carries it away.

Tibalt, you Rat-catcher, will you walke ?

Ti. What woulds thou haue with me ?

Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine
liues, 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 eares ? make hafe,
least

## of Romeo and Juliet.

least mine bee about your eares ere it bee out.

Ti. I am for you.

Ro. Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier vp.

Mer. Come fir your Paflado.

Ro. Draw Bennuolio, beate downe their weapons,
Gentlemen, for shame forbeware this outrage,
Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath
Forbid bandying in Verona Streets,
Hold Tibalt, good Mercutio.

Away Tibalt.

Mer. I am hurt.

A plague a both houfes, I am sped,
Is he gone and hath nothing?

Ben. What art thou hurt ?

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

Ro. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much.

Mer. No'tis not so deepe as a Well, nor so wide as a Church
doore, but 'tis enough, twill ferue: aske for me to morrow, and
you shall find mee a graue man. I am peppered I warrant, for
this World, a plague a both your houfes, founds a dog, an arat, a
mouſe, a cat to scratch a man to death, a braggart, a rogue, a
villaine, that fights by the booke of Arithmetick, why the
deu'le came you betweene vs? I was hurt vnder your arme.

Ro. I thought all for the beſt.

Mer. Helpe me into some house Bennuolio.
Or I shall faint, a plague a both your houſes.
They haue made wormes meat of me,
I haue it, and foundly to your houſes—

Exit

Ro. This Gentleman the Princes neare alie,
My very friend hath got his morrall hurt
In my behalfe, my reputation staynd
With Tibalts flaunder, Tibalts that an houre
Hath beene my Cozin, O sweet Juſtice,
Thy beautie hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper sofined valours steele.

Enter

Enter Benuolio.

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

Ro. This dayes blacke fate, on moe dayes doth depend,
This but begins, the woe others must end.

Ben. Here comes the furious *Tibalt* backe againe,

Ro. He gon in triumph and *Mercutio* slaine,
Away to heauen respective lenitie,
And fire and furie, be my conduct now,
Now *Tibalt* take the villajne back againe,
That late thou gaueft me, for *Mercutio's* foule
Is but a little way aboue our heads,

Staying for thine to keepe him companie :

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

Ti. Thou wretched boy that didst confort him here,
Shalt with him hence.

Ro. This shall determine that.

They fight. *Tibalt* falls.

Ben. *Romeo*, away, be gone :

The Citizens are vp, and *Tibalt* slaine,
Stand not amazed, the Prince will doome thee death,
If thou art taken, hence begone, away.

Ro. O, I am fortunes foole.

Ben. Why doft thou stay ?

Exit. Romeo.

Enter Citizens.

Citi. Which way ran he that kild *Mercutio*?

Tibalt, that murtherer, which way ran he ?

Benn. There lyes that *Tibalt*.

Citi. Vp, sir, goe with me :

I charge thee in the Princes name obey.

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

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray ?

Ben. O noble Prince, I can discover all :

The valuckie mannage of this fatall brall,

There

## of Romeo and Juliet.

There lyes the man slaine by young *Romeo*,
That flew thy kinsman, braue *Mercutio*,

Capu. Wi. *Tibalt*, my Cozin, O my brothers child,
O Prince, O Cozin, husband, O the bloud is spild
Of my deare kinsman, Prince, as thou art true,
For bloud of ours, Ihead bloud of *Montague*.

O Cozin, Cozin.

Prin. Bennuolio, who began this bloudy fray ?

Ben. *Tibalt* here slaine, whom *Romeo's* hand did slay,
*Romeo* that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke
How nice the quarrell was, and vrg'd withall
Your high displeasure all this yttered.

With gentle breath, calme looke, knees humbly bowed

Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene

Of *Tibalt* deafe to peace, but that he tilts

With peircing steele at bold *Mercutio's* breast,

Who all as hot, turnes deadly point to point,

And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand beates

Cold death alide, and with the other fends

It back to *Tibalt*, whose dexteritie

Retorts it, *Romeo* he cryes aloud,

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

His agill arme beates downe their fatall points,

And twixt them rushes, vnderneath whose arme,

An enuious thruft from *Tibalt*, hit the life

Of *Tibalt* and then *Tibalt* fled,

But by and by comes backe to *Romeo*,

Who had but newly entertain'd reuenge,

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

Could draw to part them, was *Tibalt* slaine :

And as he fell, did *Romeo* turne and flie,

This is the truth, or let Bennuoio die.

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

I beg for Iuſtice, which thou, Prince, must giue:

F 3

Romeo

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Romeo flew Tibalt, Romeo must not lie.

Prin. Romeo flew him, he flew Mercutio,

Who now the price of his dear cloud doth owe.

Moun. Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutio's friend,
His fault concludes, but what the Law should end,
The life of Tibalt.

Prin. And for that offence,
Immediately we doe exile him hence;
I haue an Intereſt in your hearts proceeding.
My cloud for your rude brawles doth lie a bleeding.
But Ile amerce you with ſo strong a fine,
That you shall all repent the louse of mine.
I will be deafe to pleading and excufes,
Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase out abuses.
Therefore vſe none, let Romeo hence in haſt,
Elſe when he is found, that houre is his laſt.
Beare hence this body, and attend our will,
Mercy but murders, pardoning thatſe that kill.

Enter Juliet alone.

Gallop apace, you ſiery footed ſteeds,
Towards Phœbus lodging, ſuch a waggoner
As Phaeston would whip you to the weſt,
And bring in clowdie night immediately.
Spread thy cloſe curtaine loue-performing night,
That run-awayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo
Leape to theſe armes, vntalkt of and vnſeene,
Lo uers can ſee to dooe their amorous rights,
By their owne beauties, or of loue to blind,
It beſt agrees with night, come euill night,
Thou ſober ſuted matron all in blacke,
And learne me how to looke a winning match,
Plaid for a paire of ſtaineſſe maiden-heads
Hood my vnmand cloud baiting in my cheekes,
With thy blacke mantle, till ſtrange loue grow bold,
Thinke true loue acted ſimple modelſie :
Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night,

Exis

For

of Romeo and Juliet.

For thou wilt lie vpon the wings of night,
Whiter then ſnow vpon a Rauens backe:
Come gentle night, come louing black-browd night.
Gie me my Romeo, and when hee 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 garſh Sun.
O I haue bought the manſion of a loue,
But not poffeſt it, and though I am ſold,
Not yet enioyd, so tedious is this day,
As is the night before some ſeſtuall,
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not weare them, O here comes my Nurſe.

Enter Nurſe with cords.

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

Nur. I, I, the cords.

Juliet. Ay me, what newes? why doſt thou wring thy hands?

Nur. A weladay, hees dead, hees dead, hees dead,

We are vndone Lady, we are vndone.

A lacke 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 diuell art thou, that doſt torment me thus?
This torture should be rored in difmall hell,
Hath Romeo ſhine himselfe? ſay thou but I,
And that bare vowell I shall poyſon more
Then the death-darting eye of Cockatrice,
I am not I, if there be such an I,
Or thatſe eyes ſhot, that makes thee anſwere I:
If he be ſtaine ſay I, or if not, no.

Briefe ſounds, determine my weale or wo,

Nur.

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Nur. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,
God faue the marke, here on his manly breast,
A piteous coarse, a bloody piteous coarse,
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawde in blood,
All in goare blood, I founded at the fight.

In. O breake my heart, poore banckrout breake at once,
To prison eyes, nere lookt on libertie,
Vile earth to earth resigne, end motion here,
And thou and Romeo preſſe one heauie beer.

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

In. What ſtorme is this that blowes so contrarie?
Is Romeo slaughtred? and is Tybalt dead?
My deareſt Cozen, and my dearer Lord,
Then dreadfull Trumpet found the generall doome,
For who is liuing, if those two are gone?

Nur. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banisheſ,
Romeo that kild him he is banisheſ.

Juliet. O God, did Romos hand ſhed Tibalts blood?
It did, it did, alas the day, it did.

Nur. O ſerpent heart, hid with a flowring face.

In. Did euer dragon keepe so faire a Caue?
Beautifull tyrant, fiend angelicall:

Rauenous doue, feathred Rauen, woluſh-rauening lambe,
Despised ſubtance of diuineſt ſhow:
Iuſt oppoſite to what thou juſtly ſeem'st,
A damned ſaint, an honourable villaine:
O Nature, what hadſt thou to doe in hell,
When thou didſt power the ſpirit of a fiend
In mortall paradise of ſuch ſweet ſlesh?
Was euer booke contayning ſuch vile matter
So fairely bound? O that deceit should dwell
In ſuch a gorgeous Pallace.

Nur. Thereſo no truſt, no faith, no honeftie in men,
All periurde, all forſworne, all naught, all diſſemblers,
Ah whereſo my man? giue me some Aqua-vitæ.

These

of Romeo and Juliet.

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

In. Bliftered be thy tongue
For ſuch a wifh, he was not borne to ſhame:
Vpon his brow ſhame is aſham'd to ſit:
For this a throne where honour may be crownd
Sole Monarch of the vnjuerall earth,
O what a heaſt was I to chide at him?

Nur. Will you ſpeake well of him that kild your cozin?

In. Shall I ſpeake all of him that is my husband?
Ah poore my Lord, what tongue shall 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 ſooliſh teares, backe to your native Spring,
Your tributarie drops belong to woe,
Which you miſtaking offer up to ioy.

My husband liues that Tibalt would haue ſlaine,
And Tibalts dead that would haue ſlaine my husband:
All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then:

Some words there was worſer then Tibalts death
That murdered me, I would forget it ſaine,
But oh it preſſes to my memory,
Like damned guilty deedes to ſinners minds,

Tibalt is dead and Romeo banisheſ:
That banisheſ, that one word banisheſ,
Hath ſlaine ten thouſand Tibalts: Tibalts death

Was woe inough if it had ended there:
Or if lower woe delights in fellowship,
And needly will be wranckt with other griefes,
Why followed not when ſhe ſaid Tibalts dead,
Thy father or thy mother, nay or both:
Which moderne Lamentation might haue moued,
But with a reareward following Tibalts death.

Romeo is banisheſ to ſpeake that word,
Is father, mother, Tibalt, Romeo, Juliet,

All ſlaine, all dead: Romeo is banisheſ,

G

There

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 wailing ouer *Tibaltis* corse,
Will you goe to them: I will bring you thither.

*Iu.* Wash they his wounds with teares: mine shall be spent,
When theirs are drie, for *Romeo's* banishment.

Take vp those cords, poore ropes you are beguild,
Borh you and I for *Romeo* is exiled:

He made you for a high-way to my bed,
But I am maid, die maiden widdowed.

Come cord, come *Nurse*, lie to my wedding bed,
And death not *Romeo*, take my maiden-head.

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

Harke ye, your *Romeo* will be heare at night,
Ile to him, he is hid at Lawrence Cell.

*Iu.* O find him, giue this Ring to my true Knight,
And bid him come, to take his last farewell.

## *Enter Frier and Romeo.*

*Fri.* Romeo come forth, come forth thou fearefull man,
Affliction is enamord of thy parts:

And thou art wedded to calamitie.

*Ro.* Father what newes? What is the Princes doome?
What sorrow craues acquaintance at my hand,

That I yet know not?

*Fri.* Too familiar.

Is my deare Sonne with such lowre companie?

I bring thee tydings of the Princes doome.

*Ro.* What lesse then Doome'sday is the Princes doome?
*Fri.* A gentler iudgement vanifht from his lips,

Not bodies death, but bodies banishment.

*Ro.* Ha, banishment? be merciefull, say death:
For exile hath more terror in his looke,
Much more then death, doe not say banishment.

*Fri.* Here from *Verona* art thou banifhed:

Be

## of Romeo and Juliet.

Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

*Ro.* There is no world without *Verona* walles,
But purgatory, torture, hell it selfe:

Hence banifhed, is banifht from the world,

And worlds exile is death. Then banifhed,

Is death miſtear'd, calling death banifhed,

Thou cutſt my head off with a golden Axe,

And ſmileſt vpon the ſtroke that murders me.

*Fri.* O deadly finne, O rude vnthankeſulneſſe,
Thy fault our Law cals death, but the kind Prince
Taking thy part, hath rufſt aside the Law,
And turn'd that blacke word death to banifhment.

This is deare mercie, and thou ſeet it not.

*Ro.* 'Tis torture and not mercie, Heauen is here
Where *Juliet* liues and euery Cat and Dogge,

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 flyes, then *Romeo*: they may ſeaze

On the white wonder of deare *Juliet's* hand,

And ſteale immortall bleſſing from her lips,

Who euen in pure and Vestall modeſtly,

Still bluſh, as thinking their owne kiffes finne.

This may flyes doe, when I from this muſt flye:

And ſayt thou yet, that exile is not death?

But *Romeo* may not, he is banifhed,

Flyes may doe this, but I from this muſt flye:

They are freemen, but I am banifhed.

Hadst thou no poyſon mixt no sharpe ground Knifc,

No ſudden meane of death, though nere ſo meane,

But banifhed to kill me: Banifhed?

O Fryer, the damned vſe that word in hell:

Howling attends it, how haſt thou the heart.

Being a Diuine, a ghostly Confessor,

A ſinne Obſoluer, and my Friend proſeſt,

To mangle me with that word banifhed?

G 2

*Fri.*

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Fri. Thou 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 word,
Aduerfities (sweet milke, Philosophie,
To comfort thee though thou art banifhed.

To comfort thee though thou art banifhed.
Ro. Yet banifhed ? hang vp Philosophie,
Vnleffe Philosophie can make a Iuliet,

Displant a Towne, reverſe a Princes doome,
It helpes not, it preuailes not, talke no more.

Fri. O then I see, that mad men haue no eares.

Ro. How should they, when wife men haue no eyes.

Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.

Ro. Thou canſt not ſpeake of that thou doſt not feele,
Wert thou as young as I, Iuliet thy loue,

An houre but married, Tibalt murdered,

Doting like me, and like me banifhed,

Then mightest thou ſpeake,

Then mightest thou teare thy haire,

And fall vpon the ground as I doe now,

Taking the measure of an vnmade graue.

Nurſe knocks.

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

Ro. Not I, vnleſſe the breath of heart-ficke grones
Mift-like infold me from the ſearch of eyes.

Knocke.

Fri. Harke how they knocke (who's there) Romeo arise,
Thou wilt be taken (ſtay awhile) ſtand vp.

Knocke againe.

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

What ſimplenefſe is this: I come, I come.

Knocke.

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

Enter Nurſe.

Nur. Let me come in, and you shall know my errand :
I come from Lady Iuliet.

Fri. Welcome then.

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

Where's

of Romeo and Iuliet.

Where's my Ladies Lord, where's Romeo,

Fri. There on the ground,

With his owne teares made drunke.

Nur. O, he is euen in my Miftreſſe caſe,

Juſt in her caſe. O wofull ſimpathy :

Pitious predicament, euen ſo lyes ſhee,

Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring,

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

For Iuliet's ſake, for her ſake rife and ſtand :

Why should you fall into ſo deepe an O :

Rom. Nurſe.

Nur. Ah fir, ah fir, death's the end of all.

Rom. Spakeſt thou of Iuliet ? how is it with her ?
Doth not ſhee thinke me an old murtherer,

Now I haue ſtaynd the child-hood of our ioy,

With blood remoued, but little from her owne ?

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

My conceald Lady to our canceld loue ?

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

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

And Tibalt calls, and then on Romeo cryes,

And then downe falls againe.

Rom. As if that name ſhot from the deadly leuell of a gun,
Did murther her, as that names curſed hand

Murdred her kinſman. 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 ſorme cryes out thou art :

Thy teares are womaniſh, thy wild acts denote

The vnreasonable ſurie of a beaſt :

Vnfeemely woman in a ſeeming man,

And ill beſeeming beaſt in ſeeming both,

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

I thought thy diſpoſition better temperd.

Haſt thou ſlaine Tibalt? wilt thou ſlay thy ſelfe ?

G 3

And

The most Lamentable Tragedie

And slay thy Lady, that in thy life lyes,
By doing damned hate vpon thy selfe:
Why rayleft thou on thy birth ? the heauen and earth ?
Since birth, and heauen and earth, all three doe meet
In thee at once, which thou at once wouldst looke.
Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy loue, thy wit,
Which like a Vfurer aboundst in all :
And vſelt none in that true vſe indeed,
Which should be decke thy shape, thy loue, thy wit:
Thy noble shape is but a forme of waxe,
Difgreſſing from the valour of a man.
Thy deare loue ſworie, but hollow periurie,
Killing that loue which thou haſt vowd to cheriſh,
Thy wit, that ornament, to shape and loue,
Miffle-shapen in the conduct of them both:
Like powder in a skill-leſſe Souldiers flaske,
Is fet a fire by thine owne ignorance,
And thou diſmembred with thine owne defence.
What, rowſe thee man, thy *Juliet* is aliue,
For whoſe deare ſake thou waſt but lately dead.
There art thou happy, *Tibalt* would kill thee,
But thou flewſt *Tibalt*, there art thou happy.
The Law that threatned death becomes thy friend,
And turnes it to exile, there art thou happie.
A packe of blessings lights vpon thy backe,
Happinesſe courts thee in her best array,
But like a misbehau'd and ſullen Wench,
Thou powts vpon thy fortune and thy loue :
Take heed, take heed, for ſuch dye miſerable.
Goe 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 thee backe,
With twentie hundred thousand times more ioy

Then

of Romeo and Inliet.

Then thou wentſt forth in lamentation,
Goe 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 ſtayd here all the night,
To heare good counſell, oh what Learning is :
My Lord, Ile tell my Lady you will come.

*Ro.* Doe ſo, and bid my Sweet prepare to chide,
*Nur.* Here fir, a Ring ſhe bids me giue you ſit,
Hie you, make haſte, for it growes very late.

*Ro.* How well my comfort is reuiu'd by this.
*Fri.* Goe hence, goodnight, and here stands all your state:
Either be gone before the watch be ſet,
Or by the breake of day diſguis'd from hence,
Soiourne in *Mantua*, Ile find out your man,
And he shall ſignifie from time to time,
Euery good hap to you, that chances here :
Giue 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.

Exequens.

*Enter old Capulet, his Wife and Paris.*

*Ca.* Things haue falne out fir ſo vnluckily,
That wehaue had no time to moue our daughter,
Looke you, ſhe lou'd her Kinsman *Tibalt* dearely,
And ſo did I. Well we were borne to dye.
'Tis very late, ſhe'l not come downe to night :
I promife you, but for your company,
I would haue beene a bed an houre agoe.

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

*La.* I will, and know her mind early to morrow,
To night ſhe is mewed vp to her heauinesſe.

*Ca.* Sir *Paris*, I will make a desperate tender
Of my childes loue: I thinke ſhe will be sulde.

In

The most Lamentable Tragedie

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

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

Acquaint her here of my sonne Paris loue,
And bid her, marke you me, on wend'sday next,
But soft, what day is this?

Paris. Monday, my Lord.

Ca. Monday, ha, ha, well wend'sday is too soone,
A thursday let it be, a thursday tell her,

Shee shall be married to this noble Earle:

Will you be ready ? doe you like this hafte ?

Weele keepe no great adoe, a friend or two,

For harke you, Tibalt being slaine so late,

It may be thought we held him carelesly,

Being our kinsman, if we reuell much :

Therefore weele haue some halfe a dozen friends,

And there an end, but what say you to Thursday?

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

Capu. Well, get you gone, a Thursday, be it then :

Goe you to Juliet ere you goe to bed,

Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day.

Farewell, my Lord, light to my chamber, ho,

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

Excunt.

Enter Romeo and Juliet aloft.

Iu. Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet neare day :
It was the Nightingale, and not the Larke,
That pierst the fearefull hollow of thine eare,
Nightly shee sings on yond Pomgranat tree,
Beleeue me loue, it was the Nightingale.

Rom. It was the Larke the Herald of the morne,
No Nightingale; looke loue what enuious streakes
Doe lace the feuering clouds in yonder East:
Nights candles are burnt out, and iocond day
Stands tip-toe on the mistie Mountaynes tops,
I must be gone and hue, or stay and die.

Iu. Yond light is not day light, I know it I:

of Romeo and Juliet.

It is some Meteor that the Sunne exhales,

To be to thee this night a Torch-bearer,

And light thee on thy way to Manina.

Therefore stay yet, thou needst not to be gone.

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

He say you gray is not the mornings eye,

'Tis but the pale reflexe of Cinthias brow.

Nor that is not the Larke whose notes doe beate

The vaulty heauen so high aboue our heads,

I haue more care to stay then will to goe :

Come death and welcome, Juliet wils 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,
Straying harsh Discords, and vnpleasing Sharpes.

Some say the Larke makes sweet Duision.

This doth not so for the deuideth vs.

Some say the Larke and lothed Toad change eyes,
O now I would they had chang'd voyces too :

Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray,
Hunting thee hence, with Huntup to the day,

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

Romeo. More light and light, more darke and darke
our wocs.

Enter Madame and Nurse.

Nur. Madam.

Iu. Nurse.

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

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

Re. Farewell, farewell one kisse 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.

H

Re.

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Ro. Farewell.

I will omit no oportunitie,

That may conuey my greetings loue to thee.

Iu. O thinkeſt thou we shall euer meete againe?

Ro. I doubt it not, and all theſe woes ſhall ſerue

For ſweet diſcourſes in our time to come.

Iu. 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-light ſaſſes, or thou lookeſt pale.

Rem. And truſt me loue, in my eye so doe you:
Dry ſorrow drinkes our bloud. Aduſ, aduſ.

Exit.

Iu. O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee ſickle,
If thou art ſickle, what doſt thou with him

That is renown'd for faith? be ſickle 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 iſt that cals? it is my Lady Mother.

Is she not downe so late or vp to early?

What vnaccuſtom'd cauſe procures her hether?

La. Why, how now Iuliet.

Iu. Madam, I am not well.

La. Evermore weeping for your Cozins death?

What wilt thou waſh him from his graue with teares?

And if thou could'ſt, thou could'ſt not make him liue:

Therefore haue done, ſome grieſe ſhewes much of loue,

But much of grieſe, 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 chuse but euer weepe the friend.

La. Well Girle, thou weep'ſt not so much for his death,
As that the Villaine liues which ſlaughtered him.

Iu.

of Romeo and Iuliet.

Iu. What Villaine Madam?

La. That ſame Villaine Romeo.

Iu. Villaine, and he be many miles a ſunder:

God pardon him, I doe with all my heart:

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

La. That is becauſe the Traytor liues.

Iu. I Madam, from the reach of theſe my hands:

Would none but I might venge my Cozins death.

La. We will haue vengeance for it, ſeare thou not.

Then weepe no more, Ile ſend to one in Mantua,

Where that ſame banifht Runnagate doth liue,

Shall giue him ſuch an accuſtom'd dram,

That he ſhall ſoone keepe Tibalt companie:

And then I hope thou wilt be ſatisfied.

Iu. Indeed I neuer ſhall be ſatisfied

With Romeo, till I behold him. Dead

Is my poore heart, so for a Kinsman 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 quiuer. O how my heart abhors

To heare him nam'd and cannot come to him.

To wreake the loue I bore my Cozin,

Vpon his body that hath ſlaughtere dhim.

Mo. Find thou the meanes, and ile find ſuch a man,

But now ile tell thee ioyfull tiding Girle.

Iu. And ioy comes well in ſuch a needy time,

What are they, I beſeech your Ladisſhip?

Mo. Well, well, thou haſt a careſull father childe.

One who to put thee from thy heauineſſe,

Hath forted out a ſudden day of ioy,

That thou expeſts not, nor I lookt not for.

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

Mo. Marrie my childe, early next Thursday morne,

The gallant, yong, and Noble Gentleman,

The Countie Paris at Saint Peters Church,

Shall happily make thee there aioyfull Bride.

H 2

Iu.

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Iu. Now by Saint Peters Church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyfull Bride.
I wonder at this haſt, that I must wed
Ere he that should be husband comes to woo;
I pray you tell my Lord and Father Madam,
I will not marry yet, and when I doe, I weare
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate
Rather then Paris, these are newes indeed.

Mr. 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 Ayre doth driffle deaw,
But for the Sun-Set of my Brothers Sonne,
It raines downe right.
How now a Conduit Girle, what still in teares.
Euermore showring : In one little body ?
Thou counterfeits, a Barke, a Sea, a Wind :
For still thy eyes, which I may call the Sea,
Doe ebbe and flow with teares, the Barke thy body is:
Sayling in this salt cloud, the windes thy fighes,
Who raging with thy teares and they with them,
Without a fudden calme will ouer set
Thy tempeſt toſſed body. How now wifc,
Haue you deliuered to her our decree?

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

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

Ca. How now, how now, chopt lodgick, what is this?
Proud and I thank you, and I thank you not,
And yet not proud: Miftis mion you?

Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,

But

of Romeo and Juliet.

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

La. Fie, fie, what are you madde?

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

Fa. Hang thee long 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, doe not anſwere mee.
My fingers itch, wife, wee ſcarce thought vs bleſt,
That God had lent vs but this onely child,
But now I fee this one is one too much,
And that wee haue a curſe in hauing here:
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, goe,

Nur. I ſpeake no treaſon,

Fa. O Godigeden,

Nur. May not one ſpeake?

Fa. Peace you mumbling ſoole,
Vtter your grauitie ore a Goſſips bowle,
For here wee need it not.

Wi. You are too hot.

Fa. Gods bread, it makes mee madde,
Day, night, houre, tide, time, worke, play,
Alone, in company, ſtill my care hath bin
To haue her matcht, and hauing now provided
A Gentleman of noble parentage,
Of faire dermeanes, youthfull and nobly allied,
Stuſt (as they ſay) with honourable parts,
Proportioned as ones thought would with a man,
And then to haue a wretched puling ſoole,

H 3

A

The most Lamentable Tragedie

A whining mammet, in her fortunes tender,
To answere, ile not wed, I cannot loue:
I am too young, I pray you pardon me.
But and you will not wed, ile pardon you.
Graze where you will, you shall not house with mee:
Looke too't, thinke on't, I doe not vse to iest.
Thurday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduile,
And you be mine, ile giue you to my friend,
And you be not, hang, begge, starue, dye in the streets,
For by my soule, ile nere acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall euer doe thee good:
Truft too't, bethinke you, ile not be forsworne.

Inliet. Is there no pittie sitting in the cloudes,
That sees into the bottome of my griefe?

O sweet my Mother caft me not away,
Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke,
Or if you doe not, make the Bridall bed
In that dim Monument where Tibalt lies.

Mo. Talke not to me, for ile not speake a word,

Doe as thou wilt for I haue done with thee.

Iuliet. O God, O Nurſe, 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:

A lacke, a lacke, that heauen should practice ſtratagems

Vpon so soft a ſubieſt as my ſelfe.

What ſaift 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 backe to challenge you:

Or if he doe, it needs muſt be my ſtealth:

Then ſince the caſe ſo ſtands as now it doth,
I thinke it beſt you married with the Countie,

O hees a louely Gentleman:

Romeo's a diſhclout to him, an Eagle Madam

Hath not so greene, so quicke, so faire an eye

Exit.

Exit.

of Romeo and Inliet.

As Paris hath, beſhow my very heart,
I thinke you are happy in this ſecond match,

For it excels your firſt, or if it did not,

Your firſt is dead, or twere as good he were,

As liuing here and you no vſe of him.

Iu. Speakeſt thou from thy heart?

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

Iu. Amen.

Nur. What?

Iu. Well, thou haſt comforſed me maruailous much,
Goe in, and tell my Lady I am gone,

Hauing displeaſde my Father, to Lawrence Cell,
To make confession, and to be abſolu'd.

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

Iu. Auncient damnation, O moſt wicked fiend,
Is it more ſinne to wifh me thus forſworne,
Or to diſpraſe my Lord with that fame tongue,
Which ſhe hath praisde him with aboue compare,
So many thouſand times? Goe Counſellor,

Thou and my boſome henceforth ſhall be twaine:

Ile to the Frier to know his remedie,

If all eſſe faile, my ſelſe haue power to die.

Enter Frier and Countie Paris.

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

Pa. My father Capulet will haue it so,
And I am nothing ſlow to ſlacke his hafte.

Fri. You ſay you doe not know the Ladies mind:
Vneuen is the course, I like it not.

Pa. Immoderately ſhe weepes for Tibalts death,
And therefore haue I little talke of loue,
For Venuſm smiles not in a house of teares,

Now fir, her fathet counts it dangerous
That ſhe doth giue her ſorrow so much ſway:

And in his wifedome haſts our marriage,

To ſtoppe the inundation of her teares.

Which too much minded by her ſelſe alone,
May be put from her by ſocietie.

Exit.

Exit.

Now

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Now doe you know the reason of this hait?

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

Enter. Juliet.

Par. Happily met my Lady and my wife.

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

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

Iu. What muft be, shall be.

Fri. That's a certayne text.

Par. Come you to make confession to this Father?

Iu. To anfwere that, I should confess to you.

Pa. Doe not denie to him, that you loue me.

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

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

Iu. If I doe so, it will bee of more price,

Being (spoke behind your backe, then to your face.

Par. Poore soule thy face is much abuſd with teares.

Iu. The teares haue got small victorie by that,

For it was bad enough before their spight.

Pa. Thou wrongſt it more then teares with that report,

Iu. That is ſlander fir, which is a truth,

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

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

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

Are you at leaſure, holy Father now,

Or ſhall I come to you at Evening Maſſe ?

Fri. My leisurſe ſerues me, penſiue Daughter now,

My Lord we muſt intreat the time alone.

Pa. Godſhield, I ſhould diſturbe devotion,
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rowſe yee,

Till then adue, and keepe this holy kiffe.

Exit.

Iu. O ſhut the doore, and when thou haſt done so,

Come weepe with me, paſt hope, paſt care, paſt helpe.

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

On Thursday next be married to this Countie.

Iu.

of Romeo and Juliet.

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

If in thy wifdome thou canſt giue no helpe,

Doe thou but call my resolution wife,

And with this Knife, Ile helpe it presently,

God ioynd my heart, and Romeo, thou our hands

And ere this hand by thee to Romeo seald :

Shall be the Labell to another deed,

Or my true heart with trecherous reuolt,

Turne to another, this ſhall ſlay them both:

Therefore out of thy long expersien't time,

Gie me ſome preſent counſell, or behold

Twixt my extremes and me, this bloudy Knife

Shall play the Vmpire, arbitrating that,

Which the commission of thy yeares and art,

Could to no ſlue of true honour bring :

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

If what thou ſpeak'st, ſpeake not of remedie.

Fri. Hold daughter, I doe ſpy 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 ſlay thy ſelfe,

Then is it likely thou wilt vndertake

A thing like death to chide away this ſhame,

That coopſt with death himſelfe, to ſcape from it.

And if thou dareſt, Ile giue thee remedie.

Iu. Oh bid me leape, rather then marry Paris,

From of the battlements of any Tower,

Or walke in theeuſh wayes, or bid me lurke

Where Serpents are: chaine me with roring Beares

Or hide me nightly in a Charnell houſe,

Ore couered quite with dead mens ratling bones,

With reekie ſhankes and yellow chapleſſe ſculs :

Or bid me goe into a new made graue,

And hide me with a dead man in his ſhroud,

Things that to heare them told, haſt made me tremble,

And

I

The most Lamentable Tragedie

And I will doe it without feare or doubt,
To liue an vnſtaynd wife to my ſweet Loue.

Fri. Hold then, goe home, be merrie, giue confent,
To marrie Paris : wensday is to morrow,
To morrow night Iooke that thou lye alone,
Let not thy Nurſe lye 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 runne,
A cold and drowſe humour: for no pulſe
Shall keepe his native progreſſe but ſurceafe
No warmth, no breath shall teſtifie thou liue ſt,

The Roses in thy lips and cheekes shall fade
Too paly aſhes, the 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 likeneſſe of ſhrunke death
Thou ſhalt continue two and ſfortie hours,
And then awake as from a pleafant 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 Countrey is,
In thy beſt Robes vncouerd on the Beere,
Be borne to buriall in thy Kindreds graue :
Thou ſhalt be borne to that ſame ancient vault,
Where all the Kindred of the Capuſſe lye,
In the meane time againſt thou ſhalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my Letters know our drift,
And hither ſhall he come, and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo beare thee hence to Mantua.
And this ſhall free thee from this preſent ſhame,
If no inconſtant joy nor womaniſh ſeare,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.

In. Giue me, giue me, O tell me not of ſeare.

Eri. Hold getyou gone, be strong and prosperous

16

of Romeo and Juliet.

In this refolue, ile ſend a Frier with ſpeed
To Mantua with my Letters to thy Lord,

In. Loue giue me ſtrength, and ſtrength shall helpe afford:
Farewell deare Father. Exequie.

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

Ca. So many guests inuite as here are writ,
Sirrah, goe hire me twentie cunning Cookes.

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

Ca. How canſt thou try them ſo?

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

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

Nur. I forſooth.

Ca. Well he may chance to doe ſome good on her,
A pecuſh ſelſe-will'd Harlotry it is.

Enter Juliet.

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

Ca. How now my head-ſtrong, where haue you beene gad-
ding?

In. Where I haue learnt to repent the fin
Of disobedient oppofition,
To you and your beheſts, and am enioyn'd
By holy Lawrence, to fall proſtrate here,
To begge your pardon, pardon I beſeech you,
Henceforward I am euer rulſ by you,

Ca. Send for the Countie, goe tell him of this,
Ile haue this knot knit vp to morrow morning.

In. I met the youthfull Lord at Lawrence Cell,
And gaue him what beconned loue I might,
Not ſtepping ore the bounds of modeste.

Ca. Why I am glad on't, this is well, ſtand vp,
This is as't ſhould be, let me see the County:
I marrie, goe I say, and fetch him hither.

12

Now

The most Lamentable Tragedie

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

In. Nurse, will you goe with me into my Cloſe,
To helpe me ſort ſuch needfull ornaments,
As you thinke fit to ſurnſh me to morrow ?

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

Fa. Go Nurse, goe with her, weele to Church to morrow.

Exeunt.

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

Fa. Tuch, I will stirre about,

And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife :
Goe thou to Juliet, helpe to deck vp her,

Ile not to bed to night, let me alone:

Ile play the huſwife for this once, what ho?

They are all ſorth, 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 Girlie is ſo reclaim'd.

Exeunt.

Enter Juliet and Nurse.

In. Ithoſe artyres are beſt, but gentle Nurse
I pray thee leaue me to my ſelfe to night :

For I haue need of many Orſons,

To moue the Heauens to ſmile vpon my ſtate,

Which well thou knowest, is croſſe and ſull of ſinne.

Enter Mother.

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

In. No Madam, we haue cuſch neceſſaries

As are behoofe ſull for our ſtate to morrow :

So please you, let me now be left alone,

And let the Nurse this night fit vp with you,
For I am ſure, you haue your hands ſull all,

In this ſo ſudden buſineſſe.

Mo. Goodnight.

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

Exeunt.

In.

of Romeo and Iuliet.

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

That almoſt freezes vp the heate of life:

Ile call them backe againe to comfort me,

Nurse, what ſhould ſhee doe here?

My diſmall Sceane I needs muſt act alone.

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

Shall I be married then to morrow morning?

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

What if it be a poyſon which the Frier?

Subtilly hath minſtred, to haue me dead,

Leaſt in this marriage he ſhould be diſhonour'd,

Because he married me before to Remeo?

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

For he hath ſtill beene tried a holy man.

How if when I am laid into the Tombe,

I wake before the time that Romeo

Come to redeem me, there's a ſearefull point:

Shall I not then be diffused 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 ancient recepſacle,

Where for these many hundred yeeres the bones

Of all my buried Aunceſtors are packt,

Where bloody Tibalt yet but greene in earth,

Lies ſeſtring in his ſhroud, where as they lay,

At some houres in the night, ſpirits resort:

Alacke, alacke, is it not like that, I

So early waking, what with loathſome ſmels,

And ſhrikes like mandrakes torne out of the earth,

That liuing mortalls hearing them runne mad,

Or if I wake, ſhall I not be diſraught,

(Inuironed with all these ſhidious ſteares.)

And madly play with my forefathers ioynes!

And

13

The most Lamentable Tragedie

And plucke the mangled Tibalt from his shrowde,
And in this rage, with some great kinsmans bone,
As with a club dash out my desperate brains.
O looke, me thinks I see ny Cozins Ghoft,
Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body
Vpon a Rapiers point: stay Tibalt itay;
Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, heres drinke, I drinke to thee.

Enter Lady of the house and Nurse.

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

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

Enter old Capulet.

Ca. Come, stir, stir, stir, the second Cocke hath crowed,
The Curphew Bell hath roung, tis three a clocke:
Looke to the bakte meates, good Angelica,
Spare not for cost.

Nur. Goe you Cot-quesne, goe,
Get you to bed, faith youle be sicke to morrow
For this nights watching.

Ca. No not a whit, what? I haue watcht ere now
All night for lesse caufe, and nere beene sicke.

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

Exit Lady and Nurse.

Ca. A jealous hood, a jealous hood, now fellow, what is there?

Enter three or four with spits and logs and baskets.

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

Ca. Make hafte, make hafte firrah, fetch drier Logs.

Call Peter, he will she w thee where they are.

Fel. I have a head fir, that will find out Logs,
And neuer tro uble Peter for the matter.

Ca. Maffe and well said, a merrie horson, ha,
Thou fhalt be Loggerhead; good faith tis day.

Play Musick.

The Co untie will be here with muſſicke ſtraight,
For so he ſaid he would, I heare him neere.

Nurse, wife, what ho, what Nurse I say?

Enter Nurse.

Goe waken Juliet, goe and trim her vp,

Ile

of Romeo and Juliet.

Ile goe and chat with Paris, hie, make hafte,
Make hafte, the Bridegroome, he is come alreadie, make hafte
I say.

Nur. Miftris, what Miftris, Iuliet, faſt I warrant her ſhe,
Why Lambe, why Ladie, ſie you fluggabed,
Why Loue I ſay, Madam, ſweet 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 she a sleepe :

I muſt needs wake her : Madam, Madam, Madam,
I, let the Countie take you in your bed,

Heele fright you vp yfaith, will it not be?

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

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

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

Oh weladay, that euer I was borne,

Some Aqua-vita ho, my Lord, my Lady.

Mo. What noyſe is heere ?

Nur. O lamentable day.

Mo. What is the matter ?

Nur. Looke, looke, oh heauie day.

Mo. O me, O me, my child, my only life :

Reuiue, looke vp, or I will dye with thee :

Helpe, helpe, call helpe.

Enter Father.

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

Nur. She's dead: deceaſt, ſhe's dead, alacke the day,

Mo. A lack the day, ſhe's dead, ſhe's dead, ſhe's dead.

Fa. Hah, let me see her, out alas ſhe's cold,

Her bloud is fetled and her ioynts are ſtiffe :

Life and these lips haue long beene ſeparated,

Death lies on her like an vntimely froſt.

Vpon the ſweeteſt flower of all the field.

Nur. O lamentable day.

Mo. O wofull time.

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Fa. Death that hath tane her hence to make me wail,
Tyes vp my tongue and will not let me speake.

Enter Frier and the Countie, with the Musitians.

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

Fa. Ready to goe, but neuer to returne.

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

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

Mo. Accurst, vnhappy, wretched hatefull day,
Moſt miserable houre that ere time saw
In laſting labour of his Pilgrimage,
But one poore one, one poore and louing childe,
But one thing to reioyce and folace in,
And cruell death hath catech it from my fight.

Nur. O wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day,
Moſt lamentable day, moſt wofull day,
That euer, euer, I did yet behold,
O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day,
Neuer was feene to blacke a day as this,
O wofull day, O wofull day.

Paris. Beguild, divorced, wronged, spighted, slaine,
Moſt detestable death, by thee beguild,
By cruell, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne,
O loue, O life, not life, but loue in death.

Fat. Despilde, distressed, hated, martyrd, kild,
Vncomfortable time, why camſt thou now,
To murther, murther our ſolentie?
O child, O child, my ſoule and not my child,
Dead art thou, alacke my child is dead;
And with my child my toyes are buffed.

Fri. Peace ho for ſhame, confusions, care liues not
In these confusions, Heauen and your ſelfe

Had

of Romeo and Iuliet.

Had part in this faire Maid, 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 :

She's not well marryed, that liues married long,
But ſhe's best married, that dyes married yong.

Dry vp your teares, and ſticke your Rosemarie
On this faire Coarſe, and as the cuſtome 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 Festuall,
Turne from their office to blacke Funerall :

Our Inſtruments to melancholy Bels,
Our wedding cheare to a ſad buriall Feaſt :

Our ſolemne Hymnes to ſullen Dyrges change :

Our Bridall flowers ſerue for a buried Coarſe :

And all things change them to the contrarie.

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

To follow this faire Coarſe vnto her graue :

The Heauens doe lowre vpon you for ſome ill :

Moue them no more, by croſſing their high will.

Exeunt manent Musici.

Muſi. Fajth we may put vp our pipes and be gone.

Nur. Honer good ſellowes, ah put vp, put vp,
For well you know, this is a pittifull cafe.

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

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Peter.

Pet. Muſitians, Oh Muſitians, hatts cafe, harts cafe,

K

O

The most Lamentable Tragedie

O, and you will haue me liue, play hearts eafe,

Fidler Why hearts eafe?

Peter. O Musitions, because my hart it selfe plaie's, my hart is full of woe.

O play me some merry dumpe to comfort me.

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

Pet. You will not then?

Min. No.

Pet. I will then giue it you foundly.

Min. What will you give vs?

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

I will giue you the Minstrell.

Min. Then will I giue you the seru ing creature.

Pet. Then wil I say the seruing creatures dagger on your pate.

I will carrie no Crochets,ile Re you, ile Fa you do you note me?

Min. And you Revs, and Favs, you note vs,

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

Peter. Then haue at you with my wit.

I will drie-beate you with an yron wit, & put vp my yron dagger.

Answere me like men.

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

Why filuer found, why muſicke with her filuer found, waht
fay you Simon Catling?

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

Pet. Pratee, what fay you Hugh Rebick?

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

Pet. Pratee to, what fay you James found poſt?

3.M. Faith I know not what to fay.

Pet. O I cry you mercy, you are the Singer.

I will fay for you; it is Muſicke with her filuer found,

Because Musitions haue no Gold for founding:

Then Muſicke with her filuer found with ſpeedy helpe doth
lend redresse,

Exit.

Min.

of Romeo and Juliet.

Min. What a peſtilent knaue is this fame?

M.2. Hang him Iacke, come weele in here, tarrie for the Mourners, and stay dinner.

Exeunt.

Exeunt.

Ro. If I may truſt the flattering truth of sleepe,
My dreames preſage ſome ioyfull newes at hand,
My boſomes Lord, ſits lightly in his throne:

And all this day an vnaccuſtomed ſpirit,
Lifts me aboue the ground with cheerefull thoughts.

I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead,
Strange dreames that giues a dead man leaue to think,
And breathd ſuch life with kiffes in my lips.

That I reuiiude and was an Emperor.

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

Euter Romeos man Balthazer.

Newes from Verona, how now Balthazer?

Doſt 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 sleepe in Capels monument,

And her immortall part with Angels liues,

I ſaw her laid low in her kindreds vault,

And prefently tooke poſte to tell it you:

O pardon me for bringing theſe ill newes,

Since you did leaue it for my office Sir.

Ro. Is it euen 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 doe beſeech you fir, haue patience:
Your lookes are pale and wild, and doe import
Some mifaduenture.

Ro. Tufh thou art deceiu'd,
Leaue me, and doe the thing I bid thee doe.

K 2

Haſt

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Haft thou no Letters to me from the Frier ?

Man. No my good Lord.

Exit.

Re. No matter, get thee gone,
And hyre those Horses, Ile be with thee straight.

Well Juliet, I will lye with thee to night :
Lets see for meanes, O mifchiefe thou art (swifr,

To enter in the thoughts of desperate men:

I doe remember an Apothecarie,

And here abouts a dwels, which late I noted

In tattred weeds, with ouer-whelming browes,

Culling of Simples, meager were his lookes,

Sharpe miferie had worne him to the bones :

And in his needy shop a Tortoys hung,

An Allegater fluft, and other skinnes

Of ill flap't fishes, and about his shelues,

A beggerly account of empty boxes,

Greene earthen pots, bladders and muftie feeds,

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 poyfon now,

Whose sale is preſent death in Mantua,

Here liues a Caitiffe wretch would ſell it him.

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

And this fame neeclie man muſt ſell it me.

As I remember, this ſhould be the house,

Being holy day, the Beggers shop is flut.

What ho Apothecarie?

Appo. Who cals so lowd?

Rem. Come bither man, I see that thou art poore,
Hold, there is fortie Duckets, let me haue

A dram of poyſon, ſuch soone speeding geare,

As will disperſe it ſelfe through all the veines,

That the life-wearie-taker may fall dead,

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

As violently, as haſtie powder fierd

Doth

of Romeo and Juliet.

Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe.

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

Re. Art thou so bare and full of wretchedneſſe,
And fearest to die, famine is in thy cheekes,

Neede and oppreſſion ſtarueth in thy eyes,

Contempt and beggery hangs vpon thy backe:

The world is not thy friend, nor the worlds law,

The world affords no law to make thee rich:

Then be not poore, but breake it and take this.

Po. My pouerty, but not my will conténs.

Re. I pay thy pouerty and not thy will.

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

Re. There is thy Gold, worse poyſon to mens ſouls,
Doing more murthers in this loathsome world,

Then these poore compounds that thou maiſt not ſell,

I ſell thee poyſon, thou haſt ſold me none,

Farewell, buy fooode, and get thy ſelfe in flesh.

Come Cordiall and not poyſon, goe with me

To Juliets graue, for there muſt I vſe thee.

Exeunt

Enter Frier Iohn to Frier Lawrence.

Ioh. Holy Francifcan Frier, brother, ho.

Enter Lawrence.

Law. This fame ſhould be the voice of Frier Iohn,
Welcome from Mantua: what ſayes Romeo?

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

Ioh. Going to find a barefoote brother out,
One of our order to affociate 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 may fpeede to Mantua there was ſtaide.

K 3

Law.

Law. Who bare my Letter then to Romeo?
John. I cold not send it, here it is againe,
Nor get a Messenger to bring it thee,
So fearefull were they of infection.

Law. Vnhappie fortune, by my Brother-hood,
The Letter was not nice, but full of charge,
Of deare import, and the neglecting it,
May doe much danger: Fryer John goe hence,
Get me an Iron Crow and bring it straight
Vnto my Cell.

Exit.

John. Brother Ile goe and bring it thee.
Law. Now muft I to the Monument alone,
Within this three houres will faire Juliet wake,
Shee will beſhrew me much that Romeo
Hath had no notice of theſe accidents:
But I will write againe to Mantua,
And keepe her at my Cell till Romeo come,
Poore liuing Coarſe, clos'd 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 ſene:
Vnder yond yong trees lay thee all along,
Holding thy eare close to the hollow ground,
So ſhall no foot vpon the Churchyard tread,
Being loose, vnſirme with digging vp of Graues,
But thou ſhalt heare it, whistle then to me,
As ſignall that thou heareſt something approach,
Giue me theſe flowers, doe as I bid thee goe.

Pag. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the Churchyard, yet I will aduenture.

Par. Sweet Flower, with flowers thy Bridall bed I strew,
O woe, thy Canapie is duſt and ſones,
Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,
Or wanting that, with teares diſtil'd by mones;
The Obſequies that I for thee will keepe,

Nightly

## of Romeo and Juliet.

Nightly shall be, to strew thy graue and weepe.
Whistle Boy.

The Boy giues warning, ſomething doth approach,
What curled foot 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 Balthazar his man.

Ro. Giue me the Mattock and the wrenching Iron.
Hold take this Letter, early in the morning
See thou deliuer it to my Lord and Father,
Giue me the light; vpon thy life I charge thee,
What ere thou heareſt or ſeeth, stand all aloofe,
And doe not interrupt me in my courſe.
Why I descend into this bed of death,
Is partly to behold my Ladies face:
But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger,
A precious Ring: a Ring that I must vſe,
In deare employment, therefore hence be gone:
But if thou ialeous doſt returne to pry
In what I farther ſhall intend to doe,
By Heauen I will teare thee ioynt by ioynt,
And strew this hungry Churchyard with thy limmes:
The time and my intents are ſauage wilde,
More fierce and more inexorable farre,
Then empty Tygers, or the roring Sea.

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

Ro. So ſhalt thou strew me friendſhip, take thou that,
Lie and be proſperous, and farewell good fellow.

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

Ro. Thou detestable mawe, thou wome of death,
Gorg'd with the deareſt morſell of the earth:
Thus I enſorce thy rotten iawes to open,
And in deſpight ile cram thee with more food.

Pa. This is that banisht haughtie Montague,
That murdred my Loues Couzin; with which griekſe,
It is ſuppoſed the faire Creature dyed,

And

And here is come to doe some villanous shame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him,
Stop thy vnhallowed toyle, vile Mountague:
Can vengeance be pursu'd further then death?
Condemned Villaine, I doe apprehend thee.
Obey and goe with me, for thou muſt dye.

Re. I muſt indeed, and therefore came I hither,
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man,
Flye hence and leaue me, thinke vpon these gone,
Let them affright thee. I beſeech thee Youth,
Put not another ſinne vpon my head,
By vrging me to ſurie, O be gone,
By Heauen I loue thee better then my ſelfe,
For I come hither arm'd againſt my ſelfe:
Stay not, be gone, liue, and hereafter ſay,
A mad mans mercie bid thee runne away.

Par. I doe define thy commification,
And apprehend thee for a Fellon here.

Re. Wilt thou prouok me? then haue at thee Boy.

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

Par. O I am ſlaine, if thou be merciful,
Open the Tombe, lay me with Iuliet.

Re. In faith I will, let me peruse this face,
Mercutio's 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 marriede Iuliet,
Said he not ſo? or did I dreame it ſo?
Or am I mad, hearing him talke of Iuliet,
To thinke it was ſo? O giue me thy hand,
One, writ with me in ſowre misfortunes Booke.
Ile burie thee in a triumphant graue.
A Graue; O no, A Lanthorne, ſlaughtred Youth:
For here lyes Iuliet, and her beautie makes
This Vault a feasting preſence full of light.
Death lye thou there by a dead man interd,
How oft when men are at the point of death,

Haue

## of Romeo and Iuliet.

Haue they beene merrie? which their Keepers call
A lightning before death? Oh how may I
Call this a Lightning? O my Loue, my Wife,
Death that hath ſuckt the Honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet vpon thy beautie:
Thou art not conquer'd, beauties enſigne yet
Is Crimſon in thy lips, and in thy cheekes,
And Deaths pale flag is not aduanced there.
Tibalt lyeſt thou there in thy bloudy ſheet?

O what more fauour can I doe to thee,
Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine,
To ſunder his that was thine enemie?
Forgiue me Couzen. Ah deare Iuliet.

Why art thou yet so faire? I will beleeue,
Shall I beleeue, that vnſubſtantiall death is amorous?

And that the leane abhorred Monſter keepes
Thee here in darke to be his Paramour?

For feare of that, I ſtill will stay with thee,
And neuer from this palace of dimme night
Depart againe; here, here will I remayne,

With Wormes that are thy Chambermaydes: O here
Will I ſet vp my euerlaſting reſt:

And ſhake the yoke of inauspicious ſtarres
From this World-wearied ſhsh, eyes looke your laſt:

Armes take your laſt embrace: And lips, O you
The doores of breath, ſeale with a righteous kiffe.

A dateſſe bargaine to ingrossing death:
Come bitter conduct, come vnſauourie guide,

Thou desperate Pilot, now at once run on

The dashing Rockes, thy Sea-ſicke weary Barke:

Here's to my Loue. O true Apothecary:

Thy Drugs are quicke. Thus with a kiffe I dye.

## Enter Frier with Lanthorne, Crow and Spade.

Fri. Saint Francis be my ſpeed, how oft to night
Haue my old feet flumbled at graues? Who's there?

L

Balt.

Balt. Heres one, a friend, and one that knowes you well.

Fri. Bliffe be vpon you. Tell me good my friend

What torch is yond that vainely lends his light

To grubs and eyeleſſe ſculles, as I diſcerne,

It burneth in the Capels monument,

Balt. It doth so holy fir, and thereſs my maſter, one that you loue,

Fri. Who is it?

Balt. Romeo.

Fri. How long hath he bin there?

Balt. Full halſe an houre.

Fri. Goe with me to the Vaule.

Balt. I dare not Sir.

My Maſter knowes not but I am gone hence,

And ſeaſefully did menace me with death,

If I did ſtay to looke on his entents.

Fri. Stay, then ile goe alone, ſcare comes vpon me.

O much I ſeaſe ſome ill vnluckie thing.

Balt. As I did sleepe vnder this young tree here,

I dreamt my maſter and another ſought,

And that my maſter ſlew him.

Fri. Romeo.

Alacke, alacke, 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 else, what Paris too?

And sleept in bloud? ah what an vnkind houre

Is guilt e of this lamentable chance?

The Lady flirs.

Iuli. O comfortable Frier, where is my Lord?

I doe remember well where I should be:

And there I am, where is my Romeo?

Fri. I heare ſome noyſe Lady, come from that neſt
Of death, contagion, and vnnatural ſleepe;

A greater power then we can contradict

Hath thwarted our intents, come, come away,

Thy

## of Romeo and Iuliet.

Thy husband in thy boſome there lies dead:

And Paris too, come ile diſpoſe of thee,

Among a Sifter-hood of holy Nunnes:

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

Exit.

Iuli. Goe get thee hence, for I will not away,
What's here? a cup cloſd in my true loues hand?

Poyſon I ſee hath beene his timeleſſe end:

O churle, drinke all, and left no friendly drop,

To helpe me after, I will kiffle thy lips,

Happily ſome poyſon yet doth hang on them,

To make me die 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 die.

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

Watch. The ground is bloody, ſearch about the Churchyard.

Goe ſome of you, who ere you find, attach.

Pittifull fight, here lies the Countie ſlaine,

And Iuliet bleeding, warme, and newly dead:

Who here hath laine theſe two dayes buried,

Goe tell the Prince, runne to the Capulets.

Raſe vp the Mountagues, ſome others ſearch,

We ſee the ground whereon theſe woes doe lye,

But the true ground of all theſe piteous woes,

We cannot without circumſtance deſcry.

## Enter Romeos man.

Watch. Heres Romeos man, we found him in the Churchyard.
Chieſe Watch. Hold him in safety, till the Prince come hither.

Enter Frier, and another Watchman.

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

L 2

WEE

The most Lamentable Tragedie

We tooke this Mattocke and this Spade from him,
As he was comming from this Churchyard fide.

Chiefes Watch. A great sufpition, stay the Frier too, too.

Enter the Prince.

Prin. What mifaduenture is so early vp,
That cals our person from our mornings rest?

Enter Capulet and his Wife.

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

Wife. O the people in the street cry Romeo,
Some Juliet, and some Paris, and all runne
With open out-cry to ward our Monument.

Prin. What feare is this which flartles in your eares ?

Watch. Souereigne, here lies the Countie Paris slaine,
And Romeo dead, and Juliet dead before,
Warme and new kild,

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

Watch. Here is a Frier, and slaughtred Romess man,
With Instruments vpon them fit to open
These dead mens Tombes.

Cap. O Heauen! O Wife! looke how our Daughter bleeds!
This Dagger hath miftane, for loe his house,

Is emptied on the backe of Mountague,
And is misheath'd in my Daughters bofome.

Wi. O me, this fight of death, is as a Bell
That warnes my old age to a Sepulcher.

Enter Mountague.

Prin. Come Mountague, for thou art early vp
To see thy fonne and here, now early downe.

Moun. Alas, my Liege, my wife is dead to night,
Grieſe of my ſonnes exile hath slopt her breath.
What further woe confpires againſt my age ?

Prin. Looke and thou ſhalt see.

Moun. O thou vntaught, what manners is in this,
To preſſe before thy father to a graue?

Prin. Scale vp the moneth of out-rage for a while,
Till we can cleere these ambiguities,

And know their Spring, their head their true descent,

And

of Romeo and Juliet.

And then will I be Generall of your woes,
And lead you euen to death: meane time forbeare,
And let mischance be ſlaue to patience,
Bring forth the parties of ſufpition.

Frs. I am the greatest, able to doe least,
Yet moſt ſuſpected as the time and place
Doth make againſt me of this direfull murther:
And heare I stand both to impeach and purge
My ſelſe condemned, and my ſelſe excufde.

Prin. Then ſay at oncewhat thou doſt know in this?

Frier. I will be briefe, for my ſhort date of breath
Is not so long as a tedious Tale.

Romeo there dead, was Husband to that Juliet,
And ſhe there dead, that Romeo's faithfull wife:
I married them, and their Itolne marriage day
Was Tibalts doomeſday, whose vntimely death,
Banif't the new-made Bridegroome from this Citie,
For whom, and not for Tibalt, Juliet pin'd.

You, to remoue that ſiege of grieſe from her,
Betroth'd and would haue married her perſorce,
To Countie Paris. Then comes ſhe to me,
And with wild lookes bid me deuife some meanees

To rid her from this ſecond Marriage:

Or in my Cell there would ſhe kill her ſelſe.
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 forme of death, meane time I wri to Romeo

That he ſhould hither come as this dire night,
To helpe 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 yesternight

Returned my Letter backe, then all alone

At the prefixed houre of her waking,
Came I to take her from her Kindreds Vault,
Meaning to keepe her closely at my Cell,

Till

The most Lamentable Tragedie

Till I conveniently could send to Romeo.
But when I came some minute ere the time
Of her awaking, here vntimely lay,
The noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.
She wakes, and I intreated 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 goe with me:
But as it seemes, did violence on her selfe.
All this I know, and to the Mariage her Nurse is priuy:
And if ought in this mifcarryed by my fault,
Let my old life be sacrificed some houre before the time,
Vnto the rigour of Feuereft Law.

Prin. We still have knowne thee for a holy man,
Where's Romeo man ? what can he say to this ?
Baltib. I brought my Master newes of Iuliet's death,
And then in poft he came from Mantua,
To this same place. To this same 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. Giueme the Letter, I will looke on it.
Where is the Counties Page that rais'd the watch?
Sirrah what made your Master in this place?
Boy. He came with flowers to strew his Ladies graue,
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 Fliers words,
Their course of Loue the tidings of her death,
And here he writes that he did buy a payson
Of a poore Pothecarie, and there withall,
Came to this Vault, to dye and lye with Iuliet.
Where be these enemies? Capulet, Mountague?
See what a scourge is laid vpon your hate?
That Heauen finds meanes to kill your ioyes with loue,

And

of Romeo and Juliet.

And I for winking at your discords too,
Have lost a brafe of Kinſmen, all are puniſht.

Cap. O brother Mountague, giue me thy hand,
This is my daughters ioynture, for no more
Can I demand.

Moun. But I can giue thee more,
For I will rayſe her statue in pure gold,
That whiles Verona by that name is knowne,
There shall no figure at that rate be set,
As that of true and faithfull Iuliet.

Cap. As rich shall Romeo's by his Ladies lie,
Poore Sacrifices of our enmity.

Prin. A glooming peace this morning with it brings,
The Sun for sorrow will not shew his head:
Goe hence to haue more talke of these sad things.
Some shall be pardoned, and some punished.
For neuer was a Storie of more woe,
Then this of Iuliet and her Romeo.

FINIS.