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. Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with Musicians. Hath death lain with thy Eride:-See, there she lies, Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir; Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face, And doth it give me such a sight as this? Lady C. Aceurs'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, And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight. That ever, ever, I did yet behold! O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! 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!- Fri. 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, Your part in her you could not keep from death; Cap. All things, that we ordained festival, To follow this fair corse unto her grave: [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. [Exit Nurse. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. Enter PETER. Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, Heart's ease, heart's ease; O, an you will have me live, play-heart's ease. 1 Mus. Why heart's ease? Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays My heart is full of woe: O, play me some merry damp, to comfort me. 2 Mus. Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. Pet. You will not then? Mus. No. Pet. I will then give it you soundly. 1 Mus. What will you give us? Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek: 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 your wit. 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 grief the heart doth wound, Why, silver sound? why, music with her silver sound? What say you, Simon Catling? 1 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 Sound-post? 3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say. Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer: I will say for you. It is-music with her silver sound, because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding :Then music with her silver sound, With speedy help doth lend redress. [Exit, singing. 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. Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, (Strange dream! that gives a dead man leave to think); Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, News from Verona!-How now, Balthazar? Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill; Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!- thus: Rom. Rom. Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. And hereabouts he dwells,-whom late I noted Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, |