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your wit.

Pet. O musicians, because my heart it self plays, my heart it self is full of woe. O, play me some merry dump, to comfort me!

Muf. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now.
Pet. You will not then ?
Muf. No.
Pet. I will then give it you foundly.
Muf. What will you give us ?

Pet. No mony, on my faith, but the gleek: I will give you the Minstrell.

Muf. Then will I give you the Serving Creature.

Pet. Then will I lay the Serving Creature's Dagger on your Pate. I will carry no Crochets. I'll re you, I'll fa you, do you note me?

Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 2 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out

Pet. 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 griefs the heart doth wound, Then music with her silver foundWhy, filver found? why, musick with her silver found ? Why say you, Simon Catling?

Muf. Marry, Sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. Pet. Pretty! what say you, Hugh Rebeck ?

2 Muf. I say, silver found, because musicians found for silver.

Pet. Pretty too! what say you, Samuel Sound-board? 3 Mus. Faith, I know not what to say.

Pet. O, I cry you mercy, you are the finger, I will say for you. It is musick with her silver sound, because such fellows, as you, have no gold for founding. The Musick with her silver Sound Doth lend Redress.

[Exit, singing. Mus. What a pestilent knave is this fame?

2 Muf. Hang him, Jack ; come, we'll in here, tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner,





Enter Romeo.

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F I may trust the flattering Truth of

Sleep. (18)
I My dreams presage fome joyful news ac

hand :

My bosom's Lord sits lightly on his Throne,
And, all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with chearful thoughts.
I dreamt, my lady came and found me dead,
(Strange dream! that gives a dead man leave to think)
And breath'd such life with kiffes in my lips,
That I revivid, and was an Emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love it self pofleft,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy?

-- Enter Balthazar.
News from Verona -How now, Balthazar ?
Dost thou noç bring me letters from the Friar?
How doth my lady? is my father well?
How doth my Juliet ? That I ask again ;
For nothirg can be ill, if the be well.

Balth. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body neeps in Capulet's Monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives :
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,

(28) If I may trust the flatt'ring Truth of Sleep.] i.e. If I may believe those Dreams ; if I may confide in their flattering Tenour, as in a Promise of Truth. * VOL. VII.



Since you

a ,
210 ROME.Q and JUĻIBT,
And presently took post to tell it you:
O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,

did leave it for my Office, Sir.
Rom. Is it even fo? then I defy you, Stars!
Thou know'st my lodging, get me ink and paper,
And hire poft-horses. I will hence to night.

Balth. Pardon me, Sir, I dare not leave you thus.
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure.

Rom. Tush, thou art deceivá; 1 I 2??
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do:
Haft thou no letters to me from the Friar?

Balıb. No, good my lord.

Rom. No matter : Get thee gone,
And hire those horses"; I'll be with thee straight.

[Exit Balthazar.
Well, Juliet, I will lye with thee to night;
Let's fee for means O mischief! thou art swift
To enter in the thought of desperate men!
I do remember an Apothecary,
And hereabouts he dwells, whom late I noted
In tatter' weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples, meager were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones :
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuft, and other skins
Of ill-shap'd fishes ;, and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes ;
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty Seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses
Were thinly scattered, to make up a shew.
Noting this penury, to my self I said,
Whose fale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would fell it him.
Oh, this fame thought did but fore-run my nead,
And this fame needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house.
Being holy-day, the beggar's Thop is fhut:
What, ho! apothecary!


Need and oppression
Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.

Enter Apothecary.
Ap. Who calls fo loud ?

c) 2. Sod Rom. Come hither, man ; I see, that thou art poor ; Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have A dram of poison, such foon-speeding geer, As will disperse it self throʻ all the veins, That the life-weary Taker may fall dead; And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath, As violently, as hasty powder fir'd Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have, buţ Mantua's law
Is death to any he that utters them,

Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,
And fear'lt to die? famine is in thy cheeks;
Contempt and beggary hang upon thy back :
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law;
The world affords no law to make thee rich,
Then be not poor, but break it and take this.

Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consencs.

Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will, And drink it off, and, if you had the strength Of cwenty men, it would dispatch you straight.

Rom. There is thy gold ; worfe poison to mens souls, Doing more murthers in this Joathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not sell; I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. Farewell, buy food, and get thee into fesh. Come, cordial, and not poison, go with me To Juliet's Grave, for there must I use thee. [Exeunt.

۲۲۰۰ 1)



SCENE changes to tbe Monastery at Verona.

Enter Friar John. Jobn. TOLY Franciscan Friar! brother ! ho ! :

Enter Fryar Lawrence to bim.
Law. This fame should be the voice of Friar Jobn.
Welcome from Mantua; what says Romeo ?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.

Jobn. Going to find a bare-foot brother out,
One of our Order, to associate me,
Here in this city visiting the sick ;
And finding him, the Searchers of the town,
Suspecting that we Both were in a house
Where the infectious peftilence did reign,
Seald up the doors, and would not let us forth;
So that my speed to Man'ua there was staid.

Law. Who bore my letter then to Romeo?

Jobn. I could not fend it; here it is again,
Nor get a Messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.

Law. Unhappy fortune ! by my Brotherhood,
The letter was not nice, but full of charge,
Of dear import; and the neglecting it
May do much danger. Friar John, go hence,
Get me an iron Crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.

Jobn. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. (Exit.

Law, Now must I to the Monument alone:
Within these three hours will fair Juliet wak'e ;
She will beshrew me much, that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents :
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell 'till Romeo come.
Poor living coarse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb !-



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