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: Pet. I will then give it you soundly.
1 Mus. What will you give us?
Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek 59: I will give you the minstrel.
1 Mus. 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 crotchets: I'll re you, I'll fa you; Do you note me?
1 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 drybeat 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,
Why, silver sound? why, musick with her silver sound? What say you, Simon Catling?
I Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.
Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck ®?
2 Mus. I say-silver sound, because musicians sound for silver.
Pet. Pretty too !-What say you, James Soundpost?
3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say.
will say for you. It is --musick with her silver sound, because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding :-—
Then musick with her silver sound,
1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same?
2 Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt.
ACT V. SCENE J.
Mantua. A Street,
Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep,
me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,
News from Verona!-How now, Balthasar?
Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
O pardon me for bringing these ill news,
Rom. Is it even so ? then I defy you, stars !-
Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave
Tush, thou art deceiv'd;
Bal. No, my good lord.
No matter : get thee gone, And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.
[Erit Balthasar. Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. Let's see for means:-0, mischief! thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! I do remember an apothecary, And hereabouts he dwells,—whom late I noted In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples: meagre were his looks, Sharp misery had worn him to the bones; And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff'd, and other skins Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes 6%, Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses, Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said
Who calls so loud ?
Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law
Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness, And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes, Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, 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.