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;
 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!
 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!

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.

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,
 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
 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.
 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,
 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.

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
 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.

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
 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 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
 mourners, and stay dinner.

 [Exeunt]




 ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT V