Enter Servants, with spits, logs, and baskets. i Serv. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not

what. Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit Serv.] —

Sirrah, fetch drier logs; Call Peter, he will show thee where they are. 2 Sero. I have a head, sir, that will find out

logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter. [Exit. Cap. 'Mass, and well said; A merry whoreson !

ha, Thou shalt be logger-head.—Good faith, 'tis day: The county will be here with musick straight.

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

Enter 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 Nurse.

Nurse. Mistress !-what, mistress!—Juliet!

fast, I warrant her, she:

his rest,

Why, lamb!-- why, lady!—fie, you slug-a-bed !Why, love, I say I—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 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

you

in 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-vitæ, ho!—my lord ! my lady!

county take

your bed;

Enter Lady Capulet. La. Cap. What noise is here? Nurse.

O lamentable day! La. Cap. What is the matter? Nurse.

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

Enter Capulet. Cap. For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is

come.

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

the day!

La. Cap. 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. Accursed time! unfortunate old man! Nurse. O lamentable day!

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.

La. Cap.

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 bride:--See, there she

lies, Flower as she was, deflowered by him, Death is my son-in-law, death is

my

heír; My daughter he hath wedded! I will die, And leave him all; life leaving, 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 ?

La. Cap. 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 woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day! most woful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
O day! O day! ( day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:
O woful day, 0 woful day!

Par. Beguild, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most détestable 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, dead !-alack! my child is dead; And, with my child, my joys are buried ! Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives

not In these confusions. Heaven and yourself Had ad part in this

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 advanc’d: And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd, 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 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 him;-
And go, sir Paris;-every one prepare
To follow this fair corse unto her grave:
The heavens do low'r upon you, for some ill;
Move them no more, by crossing their high will.

[Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, 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 Nurse. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be a

mended.

Enter Peter. Peter. Musicians, O, musicians, Heart's ease, heart's ease; 0, an you will have me live, play-heari's ease.