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- $Unique_ID{SSP02473}
- $Title{Romeo And Juliet: Act IV, Scene V}
- $Author{Shakespeare, William}
- $Subject{}
- $Log{Dramatis Personae*02450.TXT}
-
- Portions copyright (c) CMC ReSearch, Inc., 1989
-
- The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
-
- ROMEO AND JULIET
-
-
- ACT IV
- ................................................................................
-
-
- SCENE V: Juliet's chamber.
- . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
-
- {Enter Nurse.}
-
- Nurse: Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! fast, I warrant
- her, she:
- 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 must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam!
- Ay, let the county take you in your bed; 10
- He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be?
-
- [Undraws the curtains.]
-
- What, dress'd! 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 vitae, ho! My lord! my lady!
-
- {Enter LADY CAPULET.}
-
- LADY CAPULET: What noise is here?
-
- Nurse: O lamentable day!
-
- LADY CAPULET: What is the matter?
-
- Nurse: Look, look! O heavy day!
-
- LADY CAPULET: O me, O me! My child, my only life,
- Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! 20
- Help, help! Call help.
-
- {Enter CAPULET.}
-
- CAPULET: For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come.
-
- Nurse: She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day!
-
- LADY CAPULET: Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead!
-
- CAPULET: 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 CAPULET: O woful time! 30
-
- CAPULET: 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.}
-
- FRIAR LAURENCE: Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
-
- CAPULET: 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 heir;
- My daughter he hath wedded: I will die,
- And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's. 40
-
- PARIS: Have I thought long to see this morning's face,
- And doth it give me such a sight as this?
-
- LADY CAPULET: Accursed, 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 woful, woful, woful day!
- Most lamentable day, most woful day, 50
- 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 woful day, O woful day!
-
- PARIS: Beguiled, 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!
-
- CAPULET: Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
- Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now 60
- 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.
-
- FRIAR LAURENCE: Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure 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. 70
- The most you sought was her promotion;
- For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced:
- And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced
- Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
- O, 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, 80
- In all her best array bear her to church:
- For though fond nature bids us an lament,
- Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.
-
- CAPULET: 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. 90
-
- FRIAR LAURENCE: Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him;
- And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare
- To follow this fair corse unto her grave:
- The heavens do lour upon you for some ill;
- Move them no more by crossing their high will.
-
- [Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIS, and FRIAR
- LAURENCE.]
-
- First Musician: Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.
-
- Nurse: Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up;
- For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.
-
- [Exit.]
-
- First Musician: Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
-
- {Enter PETER.}
-
- PETER: Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's 100
- ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's
- ease.'
-
- First Musician: Why 'Heart's ease?'
-
- PETER: O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My
- heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump,
- to comfort me.
-
- First Musician: Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now.
-
- PETER: You will not, then?
-
- First Musician: No.
-
- PETER: I will then give it you soundly. 110
-
- First Musician: What will you give us?
-
- PETER: No money, on my faith, but the gleek;
- I will give you the minstrel.
-
- First Musician: Then I will give you the serving-creature.
-
- PETER: Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on
- your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you,
- I'll fa you; do you note me?
-
- First Musician: An you re us and fa us, you note us.
-
- Second Musician: Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.
-
- PETER: Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you 120
- with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer
- me like men:
- 'When griping grief the heart doth wound,
- And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
- Then music with her silver sound'--
- why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver
- sound'? What say you, Simon Catling?
-
- Musician: Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.
-
- PETER: Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
-
- Second Musician: I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for 130
- silver.
-
- PETER: Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost?
-
- Third Musician: Faith, I know not what to say.
-
- PETER: O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say
- for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,'
- because musicians have no gold for sounding:
- 'Then music with her silver sound
- With speedy help doth lend redress.'
-
- [Exit.]
-
- First Musician: What a pestilent knave is this same!
-
- Second Musician: Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the 140
- mourners, and stay dinner.
-
- [Exeunt.]
-