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Fr. Stay Juliet, I doo (pie a kinde of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution,
As that is desperate we would preuent.
If rather than to marrie countie Paris
Thou hast the strength or will to say thy felfe,
Tis not vnlike that thou wilt vndertake.
A thing like death to chyde away this shame,
That coapst with death itselfe to flye from blame.
And if thou doost, Ile giue thee remedie.

Jul. Oh bid me leape (rather than marrie Paris)
From off the battlements of yonder tower :
Or chaine me to some steepie mountaines top,
Where roaring beares and sauage lions are :
Or fut me nightly in a charnell-house,
With reekie fhankes, and yeolow chaples sculls :
Or lay me in tombe with one new dead :
Things that to heare them namde hane made me tremble ;
And I will doo it without feare or doubt,
To keep my felfe a faithfull vnstaind wife
To my deere lord, my deerelt Romeo.

Fr. Hold Iuliet, hie thee home, get thee to bed,
Let not thy nurse lye with thee in thy chamber:
And when thou art alone, take thou this violl,
And this distilled liquor drinke thou off:
When presently through all thy veynes shall run
A dull and heauie Number, which shall feaze
Each vitall spirit : for no pulse shall keepe
His naturall progresse, but farcease to beate :
No signe of breath shall testifie thou liuft.
And in this borrowed likenes of farunke death,
Thou shalt remaine full two and fortie houres.
And when thou art laid in thy kindreds vault,

Ile send in hast to Mantua to thy lord,
And he shall come and take thee from thy graue,
Iul. Frier I goe, be sure thou send for my deare Romeo.

Exeunt.
Enter olde Capolet, his wife, Nurse, and seruingman.
Capo. Where are you sirra ?
Ser. Heere forsooth,
Capo. Goe, prouide me twentie cunning cookes.

Ser. I warrant you sir, let me alone for that, Ile knowe them by licking their fingers.

Capo. How canst thou know them fo?
Ser. Ah sir, tis an ill cooke cannot licke his owne fingers.
Capo. Well get you gone.

Exit feruingman.
But wheres this head-strong ?

Moth. Shees gone (my lord) to frier Laurence cell To be confest.

Capo. Ah, he may hap to doo some good of her,
A headstrong felfewild harlotrie it is.

Enter Iuliet.
Moth. See here she commeth from confession,

Capo. How now my head-strong, where haue you bin gadding?

Iul. Where I haue learned to repent the fin
Of froward wilfull opposition
Gainst you and your behests, and am enioynd
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
And craue remission of so foule a fact.

She kneeles downe.

Moth. Why thats well said.
Capo. Now before God this holy reuerent frier

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All our whole citie is much bound vnto.
Goe tell the countie presently of this,
For I will haue this knot knit vp to morrow.

Jul. Nurse, will you go with me to my closet,
To sort such things as shall be requisite
Against to morrrow,

Moth. I pree thee do, good nurse goe in with her, ,
Helpe her to fort tyres, rebatoes, chaines,
And I will come vnto you presently,

Nur. Come sweet hart, shall we goe :
Iul. I pree thee let vs.

Exeunt Nurse and Iuliet.

Moth. Me thinks on Thursday would be time enough.

Capo. I say I will haue this dispatcht to morrow,
Goe one and certefie the count thereof.

Moth. I pray my lord, let it be Thursday.
Capo. I say to morrow while shees in the mood,
Moth. We shall be short in our prouision.

Capo. Let me alone for that, goe get you in,
Now before God, my heart is passing light,
To see her thus conformed to our will.

Exeunt.

Enter Nurse, Iuliet,

Nur. Come, come, what need you anie thing else?

lul. Nothing good nurse, but leaue me to my selfe : For I doo meane to lye alone to night.

Nur. Well theres a cleane smocke vnder your pillow, and fo good night.

Exit.

Enter Mother,
Mcth. What are you busie, doo you need my helpe?

Iul. No madame, I desire to lye alone,
For I haue manie things to thinke vpon,

Moth.

Moth. Well then good night, be stirring Iuliet, The countie will be earlie here to morrow.

Erit. Iul. Farewell, God knowes when wee shall meete againe. Ah, I doo take a fearfull thing in hand. What if this potion should not worke at all, Must I of force be married to the countie? This shall forbid it. Knife, lye thou there. What if the frier should give me this drinke To poyson mee, for feare I Mould disclose Our former marriage ? Ah, I wrong him much, He is a holy and religious man : I will not entertaine so bad a thought. What if I should be stilled in the toomb? Awake an houre before the appointed time : Ah then I feare I shall be lunaticke : And playing with my dead forefathers bones, Dash out my franticke braines. Me thinkes I fee My cosin Tybalt weltring in his bloud, Seeking for Romeo : stay Tybalt stay. Romeo I come, this doe I drinke to thee.

She fals upon her bed within the curtaines.

Enter Nurse with hearbs, Mother.

Mcth. Thats well faid nurse, fet all in redines, The countie will be heere immediatly.

Enter Oldeman.

Gap. Make hast, make hast, for it is almost day, The curfewe bell hath rung, t'is foure a clocke, Looke to your bakt meates good Angelica.

Nur. Goe get you to bed you cotqueane. I faith you will be ficke anone.

Сар. .

Cap. I warrant thee ourse I haue ere now watcht all night, and haue taken no harme at all.

Moth. I you haue beene a mouse hunt in your time.

Enter Seruingman with logs and coales.

Cap. A jelous hood, ielous hood : How now firra ? What haue you there?

Ser. Forsooth logs.

Cap. Goe, goe choose dryer. Will will tell thee where thou shalt fetch them.

Ser. Nay I warrant let me alone, I haue a heade 1 troe to choose a log.

Exit. Cap. Well goe thy way, thou shalt be logger head. Come, come, make haft call vp your daughter, The countie will be heere with musicke straight. Gods me hees come, nurse call vp my daughter.

Nur. Goe, get you gone. What lambe, what lady birde ? fast I warrant. What Iuliet? well, let the county take you in your bed : yee sleepe for a weeke now, but the next night, the countie Paris hath set vp his rest that you shal rest but little. What lambe I say, fast ftill : what lady, loue, what bride, what luliet? Gods me how found she sleeps? Nay then I fee I must wake you indeed. Whats heere, laide on your bed, drest in your cloathes and down, ah me, alack the day, fome aqua vitæ hoe.

Enter Mother. Moth. How now whats the matter ? Nur. Alack the day, shees dead, shees dead, shees dead. Moth. Accurft, vnhappy, miserable time.

Enter Oldeman.

Cap. Come, come, make hast, wheres my daughter ?
Moth. Ah shees dead, Thees dead.

Cap.

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