Alack, alack! is it not like that I

So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
And fhrieks like Mandrakes torn out of the Earth,
That living Mortals, hearing them, run mad
Or if I walk, fhall I not be diftraught,
Invironed with all these hideous Fears,
And madly play with my Fore-fathers Joints,
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his Shroud?
And in this Rage, with fome great Kinfman's Bone,
As with a Club, dafb out my defperate Brains?
O look! methinks I fee my Coufin's Ghost,
Seeking out Romeo, that did fpit his Body
Upon his Rapier's Point: Stay, Tybalt stay!

Romeo! Romeo! Romeo! here's drink---I drink to thee. [Exit.

SCENE IV. A Hall.

Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.

La. Cap. Hold,

Take thefe Keys and fetch more Spices, Nurfe.
Nur. They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastry.
Enter Capulet.

Cap. Come, ftir, ftir, ftir,'

The fecond Cock hath crow'd,

The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three a Clock:
Look to the bak'd Meats, good Angelica.

Spare not for coft.

Nur. Go, you Cot-quean, go;

Get you to Bed; faith you'll be fick to morrow
For this Night's Watching.

Cap. No not a whit, I have watch'd e'er now
All Night for a lefs Caufe, and ne'er been fick.
La. Cap. Ay, you have been a Moufe-hunt, in
But I will watch you, from fuch watching, now.

your time,

[Ex. Lady Capulet and Nurse. Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hoodNow, Fellow, what's there?

Enter three or four with Spits, and Logs, and Baskets. Ser. Things for the Cock, Sir, but I know not what. Cap. Make hafte, make hafte, Sirrah, fetch drier Logs. Call Peter, he will fhew thee where they are.

F 2

Ser.

Ser. I have a Head, Sir, that will find out Logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter.

Cap. Mafs and well faid, a merry Hoson, ha! Thou shalt be Logger-head

good Faith, 'tis Day.
[Play Mufick.

The County will be here with Mufick ftraight,
For fo he faid he would. I hear him near.
Nurse, Wife, what ho? What, Nurfe, I say?
Enter Nurse.

Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up,
I'll go and cha with Paris: Hie, make hafte,
Make hafte, I fy.

[Exit Capulet. SCENE draws and difcovers Juliet on a Bed. Nur. Miftrefs, what Miftrefs! Juliet! Faft I war

rant her.

Why Lamb why Lady-
-Fie you flug-a-bed-
Why Love, I fay---Madam, Sweet-heart---Why Bride-
What, not a Word! You take your Pennyworths now;
Sleep for a week; for the next Night I warrant,
The County Paris hath fet up his reft,

That you should reft but little-God forgive me-
Marry and Amen-How found is the afleep?
1 muft needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam,
Ay, let the County take you in your Bed-
He'll fright you up y'faith. Will it not be?
What dreft, and in your Cloaths---and down again!
I must needs awake you: Lady, Lady, Lady———
Alas! alas! help! help! my Lady's dead.

O well-a-day, that ever I was born!

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

Enter Lady Capulet.

La. Cap. What Noife is here?

Nur. O lamentable Day!

La. Cap. What is the matter?

Nur. Look, look-oh heavy Day!

La. Cap. O me, O me, my Child, my only Life! Revive, look up, or I will die with thee:

Help, help, call help.

Enter Capulet.

Cap. For fhame bring Juliet forth, her Lord is come. Nur. She's dead, Deceaft, fhe's dead: Alack the Day.

La. Cap. Alack the Day, fhe's dead, fhe's dead, fhe's dead. Cap. Ha! Let me fee her-Out alas, fhe's cold, Her Blood is fettled, and her Joints are ftiff, Life and thefe Lips have long been feparated: Death lies on her, like an untimely Froft Upon the sweetest Fower of the Field. Nur. O lamentable Day!

La. Cap. O woful time!

Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,
Ties up my Tongue, and will not let me fp ak.
Enter Friar Lawrence, and Paris.

Fri. Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church?
Cap. Ready to go, but never to return.

O Son, the Night before thy Wedding-day,
Hath Death lain with thy Wife: See, there the lies,
Flower as fhe was, Deflower'd now by him:
Death is my Son-in-Law, Death is my Heir,
My Daughter he hath wedded. I will die,
And leave him all, Life, living, all is Death's,

Par. Have I thought long to fee this Morning's Face,
And doth it give me fuch a fight as this?

La. Cap. Accurft, unhappy, wretched, hateful Day, Moft miferable Hour, that time e'er faw

In lafting Labour of his Pilgrimage.

But one, poor one, one poor and loving Child,
But one thing to rejoice and folace in,

And cruel Death hath catcht it from my fight.
Nur. O wo! O woful, woful, woful Day!
Moft lamentable Day! moft woful Day!
That ever, ever, I did yet behold,

O Day! O Day! O Day! O hateful Day!
Never was fen fo black a Day as this:

O woful Day! O woful Day!

Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, fpighted, flain! Moft deteftable Death, by thee beguil'd,

By cruel, cruel thee quire overthrown

O Love! O Life! not Life, but Love in Death.
Cap. Defpis'd, diftreffed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd---
Uncomfortable time, why cam'ft thou now
To murther, mother our S lem iry?

O Child! Child! my Soul, and not my Child &

F 3

Dead

Dead art thou

-alack my Child is dead,

And with my Child, my Joys are buried.

Fri. Peace ho for thame-Confufions? Care lives not In these Confufions. Heav'n and your felf

Had part in this fair Maid, now Heav'n hath all,

And all the better is it for the Maid:

Your part in her, you could not keep from Death,
But Heav'n keeps his part in eternal Life:
The most you fought was her Promotion,
For 'twas your Heav'n that fhe fhould be advanc'd;
And weep ye now, feeing fhe is advanc'd
Above the Clouds, as high as Heav'n it felf?
O in this love, you love your Child fo ill,
That you run mad, feeing that he is well.
She's not well Married that lives married long,
But she's best Married that dyes married young.
Dry up your Tears, and ftick your Rofemary
On this fair Coarfe, and as the Custom is,
All in her beft Array, bear her to Church:
For tho' fond Nature bids us all lament,
Yet Nature's Tears are Reafon's Merriment.
Cap. All things that we ordained Feftival,
Turn from their Office to black Funeral:
Our Inftruments, to melancholly Bells;
Our Wedding Chear, to a fad burial Feast;
Our folemn Hymns, to fullen Dirges change;
Our Bridal Flowers, ferve for a buried Coarfe;
And all things change them to the conttrary.

Fri. Sir, go you in, and Madam, go with him,
And go, Sir Paris, every one prepare

To follow this fair Coarfe unto her Grave.

The Heav'ns do lowre upon you for fome ill:

Move them no more, by croffing their high Will. [Exeunt.
Mu. Faith we may put up our Pipes and be gone.
Nur. Honeft good Fellows: Ab, put up, put up,

For well you know this is a pitiful Cafe.

Mu. Ay, by my Troth, the Cafe may be amended.
Enter Peter.

Pet. Muficians: Oh Muficians,

Heart's eafe, Heart's eafe;

Oh, and you will have me live, play Heart's cafe.

M.

Mu. Why Heart's ease?

Pet. O Muficians,

Becafe my Heart it felf plays, my Heart is full.
Mu. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now,
Pet. You will not then?

Mu. No.

Pet. I will then give it you foundly.

Mu. What will you give us?

Pet. No Mony on my Faith, but the Gleek. I will give you the Miniftrel.

Mu. Then I will give you the Serving Creature.

do

Pet. Then will I lay the ferving Creature's Dagger on your Pate. I will carry no Crotchets, I'll Re you, I'll Fa you, you Note me.

Mu. And you Re us, and Fa us, you Note us. 2 Mu. Pray you put up your Dagger,

And put out your Wit.

Then have at you with my Wit.

Pet. I will dry-beat you with an Iron Wit,

And put up my Iron Dagger.

Anfwer me like Men:

When griping Griefs the Heart doth wound

Then Mufick with her Silver found

Why Silver found? Why Mufick with her Silver found?

What fay you, Simon Catling?

Mu. Marry, Sir, becaufe Silver hath a fweet found.
Pet. Prateft? what fay you, Hugh Rebeck?

2 Mu. I say Silver four d, becaufe Muficians found for SitPet. Prateft too? what fay you, James Sound-Poft? (ver. 3 Mu. Faith I know not what to fay.

Pet. OI cry you mercy, you are the Singer.

I will fay for you, it is Mufick with her Silver found,
Because Musicians have no Gold for founding:

Then Mufick with her Silver found, with fpeedy help doth

lend redrefs.

Mu. What a peftilent Knave is this fame?

[Exit.

2 Mu. Hang him, Jack, come, we'll in here, tarry for the Mourners, and Ray Dinner.

[Exit.