Romeo. Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R. Nurse. Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for the—No; I know it begins with some other letter:—and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good 1365to hear it.

And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair; Which to the high top-gallant of my joy

Here is for thy pains.

but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into 1320a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by 1310too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?

Mercutio. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, 1285that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. [Sings] An old hare hoar, And an old hare hoar, Is very good meat in lent 1290But a hare that is hoar Is too much for a score, When it hoars ere it be spent. Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll to dinner, thither.

Mercutio. 'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.

Mercutio. A sail, a sail!

now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo;

that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a 1200kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior

Mercutio. Without his roe, like a dried herring:

Mercutio. More than prince of cats,

Mercutio. Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?

Mercutio. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline.

Friar Laurence. Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

In one respect I'll thy assistant be; For this alliance may so happy prove, To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.

If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine, Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline: And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then, Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

I have been feasting with mine enemy, Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,

I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

Friar Laurence. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence and medicine power: For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; And vice sometimes by action dignified.

The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;

Friar Laurence. The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light, 1060And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:

Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.

And yet no further than a wanton's bird;

O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, Driving back shadows over louring hills: 1380Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.

But old folks, many feign as they were dead; 1390Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.

Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not 1415how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, though they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy, 1420but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home?

Nurse. Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell; There stays a husband to make you a wife: Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks, They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. Hie you to church; I must another way, 1450To fetch a ladder, by the which your love Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark: I am the drudge and toil in your delight, But you shall bear the burden soon at night.

Juliet. I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then.

Bondage is hoarse,

And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay

Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,

Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,

the more I give to thee, 985The more I have,

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

Romeo. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

This bud of love,

Too like the lightning,

Which is the god of my idolatry,

Juliet. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,

I am too fond,

Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries Then say, Jove laughs.

Juliet. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,

Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

Romeo. Alack, there lies more peril in thin

Romeo. With love's light wings

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;

Juliet. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, 860Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

Her vestal livery is but sick and green

and kill the envious moon,

Juliet is the sun.

Romeo. He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed;

Mercutio. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

Mercutio. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

To be consorted with the humorous night:

The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. 815I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,

Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,

Mercutio. Nay, I'll conjure too. 805Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh: Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;' Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, 810One nick-name for her purblind son and heir, Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid! He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. 815I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy likeness thou appear to us!

Romeo. Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

Nurse. Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo To comfort you: I wot well where he is. Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night: I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.

And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!

He made you for a highway to my bed; But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed; 1860And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!

'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word, Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!' There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.

Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death

Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murder'd me: I would forget it fain; But, O, it presses to my memory, Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: 1835'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo—banished;' That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,' Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death Was woe enough, if it had ended there:

But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband: 1825Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband:

Juliet. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?

Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?

For such a wish! he was not born to shame

Shame come to Romeo!

Dove-feather'd raven!

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,— God save the mark!—here on his manly breast: 1775A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.

This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,' And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice: I am not I, if there be such an I; 1770Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.' If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no: Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.

Nurse. Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!

Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:

Prince Escalus. And for that offence 1705Immediately we do exile him hence:

Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.

Juliet. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner 1720As Phaethon would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately.

Prince Escalus. And for that offence 1705Immediately we do exile him hence:

Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.

Benvolio. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink 1670How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal Your high displeasure: all this uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts 1675With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast, Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point, And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats Cold death aside, and with the other sends It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity, 1680Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, 'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm 1685An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled; But by and by comes back to Romeo, Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I 1690Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain. And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

Benvolio. O noble prince, I can discover all The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: 1660There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

Romeo. O, I am fortune's fool!

Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. Tybalt. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence. 1640 Romeo. This shall determine that. [They fight; TYBALT falls]

Romeo. Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! 1630Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!

Benvolio. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!

Romeo. This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain'd With Tybalt's slander,—Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, 1620Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!

rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.

Mercutio. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man.

A plague o' both your houses!

[TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies with his followers] Mercutio. I am hurt.

Romeo. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

Mercutio. Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your 1580ears ere it be out.

Mercutio. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!

Romeo. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee 1560Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting: villain am I none; Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.

No better term than this,—thou art a villain.

Tybalt. Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.

Tybalt. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,—

Mercutio. And but one word with one of us? couple it with something; make it a word and a blow.

Mercutio. By my heel, I care not.

Mercutio. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, 1515or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of 1520meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing 1525his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

Mercutio. Thou art like one of those fellows that when he enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword upon the table and says 'God send me no need of 1505thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. Benvolio. Am I like such a fellow? Mercutio. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as 1510soon moody to be moved.

Benvolio. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, 1500And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl; For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

Prince Escalus. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, 3190Till we can clear these ambiguities, And know their spring, their head, their true descent; And then will I be general of your woes,

Prince Escalus. A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe 3285Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Capulet. O brother Montague, give me thy hand: This is my daughter's jointure, for no more Can I demand. Montague. But I can give thee more: For I will raise her statue in pure gold; 3275That while Verona by that name is known, There shall no figure at such rate be set As that of true and faithful Juliet.

all are punish'd.

Prince Escalus. This letter doth make good the friar's words, Their course of love, the tidings of her death: And here he writes that he did buy a poison Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. 3265Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague! See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love. And I for winking at your discords too Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd.

Page. He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave; And bid me stand aloof, and so I did: Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb; And by and by my master drew on him; And then I ran away to call the watch.

Balthasar. I brought my master news of Juliet's death; And then in post he came from Mantua To this same place, to this same monument. This letter he early bid me give his father, 3250And threatened me with death, going in the vault, I departed not and left him there.

Friar Laurence. I will be brief, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale. 3205Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife: I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city, 3210For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined. You, to remove that siege of grief from her, Betroth'd and would have married her perforce To County Paris: then comes she to me, And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean 3215To rid her from this second marriage, Or in my cell there would she kill herself. Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art, A sleeping potion; which so took effect As I intended, for it wrought on her 3220The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo, That he should hither come as this dire night, To help to take her from her borrow'd grave, Being the time the potion's force should cease. But he which bore my letter, Friar John, 3225Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight Return'd my letter back. Then all alone At the prefixed hour of her waking, Came I to take her from her kindred's vault; Meaning to keep her closely at my cell, 3230Till I conveniently could send to Romeo: But when I came, some minute ere the time Of her awaking, here untimely lay The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. She wakes; and I entreated her come forth, 3235And bear this work of heaven with patience: But then a noise did scare me from the tomb; And she, too desperate, would not go with me, But, as it seems, did violence on herself. All this I know; and to the marriage

Friar Laurence. I am the greatest, able to do least, Yet most suspected, as the time and place Doth make against me of this direful murder; 3200And here I stand, both to impeach and purge Myself condemned and myself excused.

Montague. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;

Capulet. O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds! 3175This dagger hath mista'en—for, lo, his house Is empty on the back of Montague,— And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom!

Warm and new kill'd.

Capulet. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad? Lady Capulet. The people in the street cry Romeo, Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run, 3165With open outcry toward our monument.

Third Watchman. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs and weeps: 3155We took this mattock and this spade from him, As he was coming from this churchyard side.

First Watchman. The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard: Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach. Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain, And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, Who here hath lain these two days buried.

there rust, and let me die.

Juliet. Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! [Snatching ROMEO's dagger] This is thy sheath; 3135[Stabs herself]

[Kisses him] 3130Thy lips are warm.

O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop

What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: 3125O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop

Juliet. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.

Friar Laurence. I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep: A greater power than we can contradict Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; 3115And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:

where is my lord?

[JULIET wakes] Juliet. O comfortable friar! where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, And there I am. Where is my Romeo?

Balthasar. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well. Friar Laurence. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, 3075What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern, It burneth in the Capel's monument. Balthasar. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, One that you love.

LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade]

Here's to my love! 3065[Drinks] O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. [Dies]

A dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!

And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars

Will I set up my everlasting rest,

That unsubstantial death is amorous, And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 3050Thee here in dark to be his paramour?

Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? O, what more favour can I do to thee, Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain 3045To sunder his that was thine enemy?

Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet 3040Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.

A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth, For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes 3030This vault a feasting presence full of light.

To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!

Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris!

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

Paris. O, I am slain! [Falls] 3015If thou be merciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

Paris. I do defy thy conjurations, And apprehend thee for a felon here.

Romeo. I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man; Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone; 3000Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, Put not another sin upon my head, By urging me to fury: O, be gone! By heaven, I love thee better than myself; For I come hither arm'd against myself: 3005Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say, A madman's mercy bade thee run away.

Can vengeance be pursued further than death?

Paris. This is that banish'd haughty Montague, That murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief, It is supposed, the fair creature died; 2990And here is come to do some villanous shame To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.

Romeo. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, 2985And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!

Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee, Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof, And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death, 2965Is partly to behold my lady's face; But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger A precious ring, a ring that I must use In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone: But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry 2970In what I further shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs: The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far 2975Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

Romeo. Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron. Hold, take this letter; early in the morning 2960See thou deliver it to my lord and father. Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee, Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof, And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death,

Hold, take this letter; early in the morning 2960See thou deliver it to my lord and father.

To cross my obsequies and true love's rite?

Paris. Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,— O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;— Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans: The obsequies that I for thee will keep 2950Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.

Paris. Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,— O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;— Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans: The obsequies that I for thee will keep 2950Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.

Page. [Aside] I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.

Paris. Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof: Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. 2935Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along, Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me, 2940As signal that thou hear'st something approach. Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.

Friar Laurence. Now must I to the monument alone; 2925Within three hours will fair Juliet wake: She will beshrew me much that Romeo Hath had no notice of these accidents;

The letter was not nice but full of charge Of dear import, and the neglecting it May do much danger. Friar John, go hence; 2920Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight Unto my cell.

Friar Laurence. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,

Here in this city visiting the sick, And finding him, the searchers of the town, Suspecting that we both were in a house Where the infectious pestilence did reign, 2910Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth; So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.

Friar John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!

Come, cordial and not poison, go with me To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee.

Romeo. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh.

Apothecary. My poverty, but not my will, consents.

Romeo. Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, 2880Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; The world is not thy friend nor the world's law; The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.

Apothecary. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law Is death to any he that utters them.

Romeo. Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor: Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have 2870A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins That the life-weary taker may fall dead And that the trunk may be discharged of breath As violently as hasty powder fired 2875Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

'An if a man did need a poison now, Whose sale is present death in Mantua, 2860Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.' O, this same thought did but forerun my need;

I do remember an apothecary,— And hereabouts he dwells,—which late I noted In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples; meagre were his looks, Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: 2850And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff'd, and other skins Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, 2855Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses, Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.

Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper, And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.

Romeo. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!

Balthasar. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill: Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, And her immortal part with angels lives. 2825I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, And presently took post to tell it you:

For nothing can be ill, if she be well.

News from Verona!—How now, Balthasar!

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead— 2810Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think!— And breathed such life with kisses in my lips, That I revived, and was an emperor.

My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne; And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.

In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.

Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.

Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body

And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth,

Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,

The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place,— 2590As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, Where, for these many hundred years, the bones Of all my buried ancestors are packed: Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, 2595At some hours in the night spirits resort;— Alack, alack, is it not like that I, So early waking, what with loathsome smells, And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth, That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:— 2600O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, Environed with all these hideous fears? And madly play with my forefather's joints? And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone, 2605As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?

How if, when I am laid into the tomb, I wake before the time that Romeo Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault, 2585To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?

I wake before the time that Romeo Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault, 2585To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?

For he hath still been tried a holy man.

What if it be a poison, which the friar Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, Because he married me before to Romeo?

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

What if this mixture do not work at all?

Nurse! What should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must act alone.

I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,

Juliet. Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.