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Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood! - Now,

fellow, What's there?

Enter Servants, with Spits, Logs, and Baskets. 1 Serv. Things for the cook, sir ; but I know not

what. Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit 1 Serv.] –

Sirrah, fetch drier logs :
Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.

2 Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter. [Erit.

Cap. 'Mass, and well said ; a merry whoreson, ha! Thou shalt be logger-head. - Good Father! 'tis day: The county will be here with music straight,

Music within. For so he said he would. -- I hear him near : Nurse! Wife!- what, ho!- what, nurse, I say!

Re-enter the Nurse. Go, waken Juliet ; go, and trim her up: I'll go and chat with Paris. — Hie, make haste, Make haste! the bridegroom he is come already: Make haste, I say !

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

JULIET's Chamber; JULIET on the Bed.

Enter the Nurse. Nurse. Mistress! what, mistress!

fast, I warrant her, she :

Juliet!

of the weasel tribe, prowls about in the night for its prey. « Cat after kinde, good mouse-hunt," is one of Heywood's proverbs.

Why, lamb! why, lady!--fie, you slug-a-bed !Why, love, I say ! - 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 set up his rest,'
That
you

shall rest but little. — God forgive me, (Marry and amen!) how sound is she asleep! I needs must wake her. Madam, madam, madam ! Ay, let the county take you

in
your

bed :
He'll fright you up, i'faith. - Will it not be ?
What, drest! and in your clothes! and down again!
I must needs wake 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. Lady C. What noise is here? Nurse.

0, lamentable day! Lady C. What is the matter? Nurse.

Look, look! O, heavy day! Lady C. O me! O me !—my child, my only life, Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!Help, help!--call help.

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Enter CAPULET. Cap. For shame! bring Juliet forth ; her lord is

come.

1 To set up one's rest was the same as to make up one's mind. In The Merchant of Venice, Act ii. sc. 2, Launcelot has a similar quibble: “ As I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground.” See, also, The Comedy of Errors, Act iv. sc. 3, note 2.

Nurse. She's dead, deceas’d, she's dead ; alack

the day! Lady C. Alack the day! she's dead, she's dead,

she's dead.
Cap. Ha! let me see her. - Out, alas ! she's cold;
Her blood is settled ; and her joints are stiff ;
Life and these lips have long been separated :
Death lies on her, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.”

Nurse. O, lamentable day !
Lady C.

O, woful time!
Cap. Death, that hath ta’en her hence to make

me wail, Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.

Enter Friar LAURENCE and PARIS, with Musicians.

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:— there she lies, Flower as she was, deflowered by him. Death is my son-in-law, death is my My daughter he hath wedded! I will die, And leave him all ; life, living, all is death’s.' Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's

face, And doth it give me such a sight as this ?

heir ;

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2 In the first quarto, this speech stands thus :

“Stay! let me see : all pale and wan.
Accursed time! unfortunate old man !"

H. 3 So in the old copies, but commonly changed in moderu editions to,“ life leaving, all is death's." 4 The quarto of 1597 continues the speech of Paris thus :

<< And doth it now present such prodigies ?

Accurst, unhappy, miserable man,
Forlorn, forsaken, destitute I am;

H.

Lady C. Accurs’d, unhappy, wretched, hateful

day!
Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw
In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight.

Nurse. O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day !
Most lamentable day! most woeful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold !
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this :
O woeful day, 0 woeful day !

Par. Beguild, divorced, wronged, spited, slain !
Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown ! —
O love! O life! - not life, but love in death!

Cap. Despis’d, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
Uncomfortable time! why cam'st thou now
To murder, murder our solemnity ?
O child ! O child !--my soul, and not my child !
Dead art thou ! alack! my child is dead ;
And with my child my joys are buried !
Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cur

lives not
In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid ; now Heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid :
Your part in her you could not keep from death ;
But Heaven keeps His part in eternal life.
The most you sought was her promotion ;

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Born to the world to be a slave in it:
Distrest, remediless, and unfortunate.
Oh heavens! Oh nature! wherefore did you make me
To live so vile, so wretched as I shall ? '

For 'twas your heaven she should be advanc'd:
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
0! in this love you love your child so ill,
That you run mad, seeing that she is well :
She's not well married that lives married long,
But she's best married that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse ; and, as the custom is,
In all her best array bear her to church;
For though fond nature bids us all lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.

Cap. All things, that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral :
Our instruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast ;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change ;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.

Fri. Sir, go you in, — and, madam, go with

5

him ;

And go, sir Paris : - every one prepare
To follow this fair corse unto her grave.
The heavens do lower upon you, for some ill ;
Move them no more, by crossing their high will.

[Exeunt CAP., Lady CAP., PARIS, and Friar. 1 Mus. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.

Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah! put up, put up; For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.

[Erit. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may amended.

be

5 All the old copies except the folio of 1632 have some instead of fond. In all, of the preceding line, is from the first quarto ; the later copies having And in.

H.

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