AN EXCELLENT conceited Tragedy OF Romeo and juliet▪ As it hath been often (with great applause) played publicly, by the right Honourable the L. of Hunsdon his Servants.  
LONDON, Printed by john Danter. 1597.   

The Prologue.  
TWo household Friends alike in dignity,  
(In fair Verona, where we lay our Scene)  
From civil broils broke into enmity,  
Whose civil war makes civil hands unclean.  
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,  
A pair of star-crossed Lovers took their life:  
Whose misadventures, piteous overthrows,  
(Through the continuing of their Father's strife,  
And death-markt passage of their Parent's rage)  
Is now the two hours traffic of our Stage.  
The which if you with patiented ears attend▪  
What here we want we'll study to amend.   

The most excellent Tragedy of Romeo and juliet.  Enter 2. serving-men of the Capolets. 
GRegorie, of my word Ile carry no coals.  2 
No, for if you do, you should be a Collier.  1 
If I be in choler, I'll draw.  2 
Ever while you live, draw your neck out of the the collar.  1 
I strike quickly being moved.  2 
I, but you are not quickly moved to strike.  1 
A Dog of the house of the Mountagues moves me.  2 
To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand to it: therefore (of my word) if thou be moved thou'lt run away.  1 
There's not a man of them I meet, but I'll take the wall of.  2 
That shows thee a weakling, for the weakest goes to the wall.  1 
That's true, therefore I 'll thrust the men from the wall, and thrust the maids to the walls: nay, thou shalt see I am a tall piece of flesh.  2 
'tis well thou art not fish, for if thou wert thou wouldst be but poor john.  1 
I'll play the tyrant, I'll first begin with the maids, & off with their heads.  2 
The heads of the maids?  1 
I the heads of their Maids, or the Maiden heads, take it in what sense thou wilt▪  2 
Nay let them take it in sense that feel it, but here comes two of the Mountagues.  Enter two Servingmen of the Mountagues▪ 1 
Nay fear not me I warrant thee.  2 
I fear them no more than thee, but draw.  1 
Nay let us have the law on our side▪ let them begin first. I'll tell thee what I'll do, as I go by i'll bite my thumb, which is disgrace enough if they suffer it.  2 
Content, go thou by and bite thy thumb, and i'll come after and frown.  1 Moun: 
Do you bite your thumb at us?  1 
I bite my thumb.  2 Moun: 
I but is't at us?  1 
I bite my thumb, is the law on our side?  2 
No.  1 
I bite my thumb.  1 Moun: 
I but is't at us?  Enter Benevolio▪ 2 
Say I, here comes my Master's kinsman.  They draw, to them enters Tybalt, they fight, to them the Prince, old Montague, and his wife, old Capulet and his wife, and other Citizens and part them. Prince. 
Rebellious subjects enemies to peace,  
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands  
Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground.  
Three Civil brawls bred of an airy word,  
By the old Capulet and Montague,  
Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets.  
If ever you disturb our streets again,  
Your lives shall pay the ransom of your fault:  
For this time every man departed in peace.  
Come Capulet come you along with me,  
And Montague, come you this after noon,  
To know our farther pleasure in this case,  
To old free Town our common judgement place,  
Once more on pain of death each man departed.  Exeunt. M: wife. 
Who set this ancient quarrel first abroach?  
Speak Nephew, were you by when it began?  Benuo: 
Here were the servants of your adversaries,  
And yours close fight ere I did approach.  Wife: 
Ah where is Romeo, saw you him to day?  
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.  Ben: 
Madame, an hour before the worshipped sun  
Peeped through the golden window of the East,  
A troubled thought drew me from company:  
Where underneath the grove Sicamoure,  
That Westward rooteth from the cities side,  
So early walking might I see your son.  
I drew towards him, but he was ware of me,  
And drew into the thicket of the wood:  
I noting his affections by mine own,  
That most are busied when they're most alone,  
Pursued my honour, not pursuing his.  Moun: 
Black and portentous must this honour prove,  
Unless good counsel do the cause remove.  Ben: 
Why tell me Uncle do you know the cause?  Enter Romeo. Moun: 
I neither know it nor can learn of him.  Ben: 
See where he is, but stand you both aside,  
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.  Mount: 
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay  
To hear true shrift. Come Madam let's away.  Benuo: 
Good morrow cozen.  Romeo: 
Is the day so young?  Ben: 
But new stroke nine.  Romeo: 
Ay me, sad hopes seem long.  
Was that my Father that went hence so fast?  Ben: 
It was, what sorrow lengthens Romeos' hours?  Rom: 
Not having that, which having makes them short.  Ben: 
In love.  Ro: 
Out.  Ben: 
Of love.  Ro: 
Out of her favour where I am in love.  Ben: 
Alas that love so gentle in her view,  
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof.  Ro: 
Alas that love whose view is muffled still,  
Should without laws give path-ways to our will:  
Where shall we dine? God's me, what fray was here?  
Yet tell me not for I have heard it all,  
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.  
Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate,  
O any thing, of nothing first create!  
O heavy lightness serious vanity!  
misshaped Chaos of best seeming things,  
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health,  
Still waking sleep, that is not what it is:  
This love feel I, which feel no love in this.  
Dost thou not laugh?  Ben: 
No Cousin I rather weep.  Rom: 
Good heart at what?  Ben: 
At thy good hearts oppression.  Ro: 
Why such is loves transgression,  
Griefs of mine own lie heavy at my heart,  
Which thou wouldst propagate to have them priest  
With more of thine, this grief that thou hast shown,  
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own:  
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs  
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers eyes:  
Being vexed, a sea raging with a lovers tears.  
What is it else? A madness most discreet,  
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Farewell Cousin.  Ben: 
Nay I'll go along.  
And if you hinder me you do me wrong.  Ro: 
Tut I have lost myself I am not here,  
This is not Romeo, he's some other where.  Ben: 
Tell me in sadness whom she is you love?  Ro: 
What shall I groan and tell thee?  Ben: 
Why no, but sadly tell me who.  Ro: 
Bid a sick-man in sadness make his will.  
Ah word ill urged to one that is so ill.  
In sadness cozen I do love a woman.  Ben: 
I aimed so right, when as you said you loved.  Ro: 
A right good markman, and she's fair I love.  Ben: 
A right fair mark fair Cousin is soon hit.  Ro: 
But in that hit you miss, she'll not be hit  
With Cupid's arrow, she hath Diana's wit,  
And in strong proof of chastity well armed:  
'Gainst Cupid's childish bow she lives unharmed,  
she'll not abide the siege of loving terms,  
Nor open her lap to Saint seducing gold,  
Ah she is rich in beauty, only poor,  
That when she dies with beauty dies her store.  Exeu. Enter County Paris, old Capulet. 
Of honourable reckoning are they both,  
And pity 'tis they live at odds so long:  
But leaving that, what say you to my suit?  Capu: 
What should I say more than I said before,  
My daughter is a stranger in the world,  
She hath not yet attained to fourteen years:  
Let two more summers whither in their pride,  
Before she can be thought fit for a Bride.  Paris: 
Younger than she are happy mothers made.  cap. 
But too soon marred are these so early married:  
But woo her gentle Paris, get her heart,  
My word to her consent is but a part.  
This night I hold an old accustomed Feast,  
Whereto I have invited many a guest,  
Such as I love: yet you among the store,  
One more most welcome makes the number more.  
At my poor house you shall behold this night,  
Earth treadding stars, that make dark heaven light:  
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel,  
When well apparaild April on the heel  
Of lumping winter treads, even such delights  
Amongst fresh female buds shall you this night  
Inherit at my house, hear all, all see,  
And like her most, whose merit most shallbe.  
Such amongst view of many mine being one,  
May stand in number though in reckoning none.  Enter Servingman. 
Where are you sirrah, go trudge about  
Through fair Verona streets, and seek them out:  
Whose names are written here and to them say,  
My house and welcome at their pleasure stay.  Exeunt. Ser: 
Seek them out whose names are written here▪ and yet I know not who are written here: I must to the learned to learn of them, that's as much to say, as the Tailor must meddle with his last, the Shoemaker with his needle, the Painter with his nets, and the Fisher with his Pencil, I much to the learned.  Enter Benuolio and Romeo. Ben: 
Tut man one fire burns out another's burning,  
One pain is lessened with another's anguish:  
Turn backward, and be holp with backward turning,  
One desperate grief cures with another's languish.  
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,  
And the rank poison of the old will die.  Romeo: 
Your Planton leaf is excellent for that.  Ben: 
For what?  Romeo: 
For your broken shin.  Ben: 
Why Romeo art thou mad?  Rom. 
Not mad, but bound more than a mad man is.  
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,  
Whipped and tormented, and Godden good fellow.  Ser: 
Godgigoden, I pray sir can you read,  Rom: 
I mine own fortune in my misery.  Ser: 
Perhaps you have learned it without book: but I pray can you read any thing you see?  Rom: 
I if I know the letters and the language.  Seru: 
Ye say honestly, rest you merry.  Rom: 
Stay fellow I can read.  He reads the Letter. 
SEigneur Martino and his wife and daughters, County Anselme and his beauteous sisters, the Lady widow of Vtrwio, Seigneur Placentio, and his lovely Nieces, Mercutio and his brother Valentine, mine uncle Capulet his wife and daughters, my fair Niece Rosaline and Livia, Seigneur Valentio and his cozen Tibalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.  
A fair assembly, whether should they come?  Ser: 
Vp.  Ro: 
Whether to supper?  Ser: 
To our house.  Ro: 
Whose house?  Ser: 
My Masters.  Ro: 
Indeed I should have asked thee that before.  Ser: 
Now i'll tell you without ask. My Master is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Mountagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry.  Ben: 
At this same ancient feast of Capulets,  
Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so loves:  
With all the admired beauties of Verona,  
Go thither and with unattainted eye,  
Compare her face with some that I shall show,  
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.  Ro: 
When the devout religion of mine eye  
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fire,  
And these who often drowned could never die,  
Transparent Heretics be burnt for liars.  
One fairer than my love, the all seeing son  
Near saw her match, since first the world begun.  Ben: 
Tut you saw her fair none else being by,  
Herself poised with herself in either eye:  
But in that Crystal scales let there be weighed,  
Your ladies love, against some other maid  
That I will show you shining at this feast,  
And she shall scant show well that now seems best.  Rom: 
I'll go along no such fight to be shown,  
But to rejoice in splendour of mine own.  Enter Capulets wife and Nurse. Wife: 
Nurse where's my daughter call her forth to me.  Nurse: 
Now by my maiden head at twelve year old I bade her come, what Lamb, what Lady bird, God forbidden. where's this girl? what juliet.  Enter juliet. juliet: 
How now who calls?  Nurse: 
Your Mother.  Iul: 
Madam I am here, what is your will?  W: 
This is the matter. Nurse give leave a while, we must talk in secret. Nurse come back again I have remembered me, thou 'se hear our counsel. Thou know est my daughters of a pretty age.  Nurse: 
Faith I can tell her age unto a hour.  Wife: 
she's not fourteen.  nurse: 
Ile lay fourteen of my teeth, and yet to my teen be it spoken, I have but four, she's not fourteen. How long is it now to Lammas-tide?  Wife: 
A fortnight and odd days.  Nurse: 
Even or odd, of all days in the year come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she God rest all Christian souls were of an age. Well Susan is with God, she was too good for me: But as I said on Lammas Eve at night▪ shall she be fourteen, that shall she marry I remember it well▪ 'tis since the Earthquake now eleven years, and she was we and I never shall forget it, of all the days of the year upon that day: for I had then laid wormwood to my dug, sitting in the sun under the Dove-house wall. My Lord and you were then at Mantua, nay I do bear a brain: But as I said, when it did taste the wormwood on the nipple of my dug, & felt it bitter, pretty fool to see it teachie and fall out with Dug. Shake quoth the Dove-house 'twas no need I trow to bid me trudge, and since that time it is a leaven year: for than could juliet stand high loan, nay by the Rood, she could have waddled up and down, for even the day before she broke her brow, and then my husband God be with his soul, he was a merry man: Dost thou fall forward juliet? thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit: wilt thou not juliet? and by my halidom, the pretty fool left crying and said I. To see how a jest shall come about, I warrant you if I should live a hundred year, I never should forget it, wilt thou not juliet? and by my troth she stinted and cried I.  juliet: 
And stint thou too, I pray thee Nurse say I.  Nurse: 
Well go thy ways, God mark thee for his grace, thou wert the prettiest Babe that ever I nursed, might I but live to see thee married once, I have my wish.  Wife: 
And that same marriage Nurse, is the Theme I meant to talk of: Tell me juliet, how stand you affected to be married?  Iul: 
It is an honour that I dream not off.  Nurse: 
An honour! were not I thy only Nurse, I would say thou hadst sucked wisdom from thy Teat.  Wife: 
Well girl, the Noble County Paris is seeks thee for his Wife.  Nurse: 
A man young Lady, Lady such a man as all the world, why he is a man of wax.  Wife: 
Veronaes Summer hath not such a flower.  Nurse: 
Nay he is a flower, in faith a very flower.  Wife: 
Well juliet, how like you of Paris▪ love.  juliet: 
I'll look to like, if looking liking move,  
but no more deep will I engage mine eye,  
Then your consent gives strength to make it fly.  Enter clown Clown: 
Madam you are called for, supper is ready, the Nurse cursed in the pantry, all things in extremity, make haste for I must be gone to wait.  Enter Masker's with Romeo and a Page. Ro: 
What shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?  
Or shall we on without Apology.  Benuoleo: 
The date is out of such prolixity,  
we'll have no Cupid hoodwinked with a scarf,  
Bearing a Tartars painted bow of lath,  
Scaring the Ladies like a crow-keeper:  
Nor no without book Prologue faintly spoke  
After the Prompter, for our entrance.  
But let them measure us by what they will;  
we'll measure them a measure and be gone.  Rom: 
A torch for me I am not for this aumbling,  
Being but heavy I will bear the light.  Mer: 
Bleeve me Romeo I must have you dance.  Rom: 
Not I believe me you have dancing shoes  
With nimble soles, I have a soul of lead  
So stakes me to the ground I cannot stir.  Mer: 
Give me a case to put my visage in,  
A visor for a visor, what care I  
What curious eye doth coat deformity.  Rom: 
Give me a Torch, let wantoness light of heart  
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels:  
For I am proverbed with a Grandsire phrase,  
I le be a candleholder and look on,  
The game was near so fair and I am done.  Mer: 
Tut dun 's the mouse▪ the Constables old word,  
If thou beest Dun, we le draw thee from the mire  
Of this surreverence love wherein thou stickst.  
Leave this talk, we burn day light here.  Rom: 
Nay that's not so. Mer: I mean sir in delay,  
We burn our lights by night, like Lamps by day,  
Take our good meaning for our judgement sits  
Three times a day, ere once in her right wits.  Rom: 
So we mean well by going to this mask:  
But 'tis no wit to go.  Mer: 
Why Romeo may one ask?  Rom: 
I dreamt a dream to night.  Mer: 
And so did I. Rom: Why what was yours▪  Mer: 
That dreamers often lie.  Rom: 
In bed a sleep while they do dream things true▪  Mer: 
Ah then the lee see queen Mab hath been with you▪  Ben: 
Queen Mab what's she?  
She is the Fairies Midwife and doth come  
In shape no bigger than an Aggat stone  
On the forefinger of a Burgomaster▪  
Drawn with a team of little Atomi,  
A thwart men's noses when they lie a sleep.  
Her wagon spokes are made of spinner's webs▪  
The cover, of the wings of Grasshoppers,  
The traces are the Moonshine watery beams,  
The collars crickets bones, the lash of films,  
Her wagoner is a small grey coated fly,  
Not half so big as is a little worm,  
Picked from the lazy finger of a maid,  
And in this sort she gallops up and down  
Through lovers brains, and then they dream of love▪  
O'er Courtiers knees: who straight on curtsies dream  
O'er Lady's lips, who dream on kisses straight:  
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,  
Because their breaths with sweet meats tainted are:  
Sometimes she gallops over a layers lap,  
And then dreams he of smelling out a sure,  
And sometime comes she with a tithe pigs tail,  
Tickling a Parson's nose that lies  asleep,  
And then dreams he of another benefice:  
Sometime she gallops over a soldiers nose,  
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,  
Of breaches ambuscadoes, countermines,  
Of healths five fathom deep, and then anon  
Drums in his ear: at which he starts and wakes,  
And swears a Prayer or two and sleeps again.  
This is that Mab that makes maids lie on their backs,  
And proves them women of good carriage.  
This is the very Mab that plaits the manes of Horses in the night,  
And plaits the elflocks in foul sluttish hair,  
Which once untangled much misfortune breeds.  Rom: 
Peace, peace, thou talk'st of nothing.  Mer: 
True I talk of dreams,  
Which are the Children of an idle brain,  
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,  
Which is as thin a substance as the air,  
And more inconstant than the wind,  
Which woos even now the frozen bowels of the north,  
And being angered puffs away in haste,  
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south▪  Ben: 
Come, come, this wind doth blow us from ourselves.  
Supper is done and we shall come too late.  Ro: 
I fear too early, for my mind misgives  
Some consequence is hanging in the stars,  
Which bitterly gins his fearful date  
With this night's revels, expires expiers the term  
Of a despised life, closed in this breast,  
By some untimely forfeit of vile death:  
But he that hath the steerage of my course  
Directs my sail, on lusty Gentlemen.  Enter old Capulet with the Ladies. Capu: 
Welcome Gentlemen, welcome Gentlemen,  
Ladies that have their toes unplagud with Corns  
Will have about with you, ah ha my Mistresses,  
Which of you all will now refuse to dance?  
She that makes dainty, she Isle swear hath Corns.  
Am I come near you now, welcome Gentlemen, welcome,  
More lights you knaves, & turn these tables up,  
And quench the fire the room is grown too hot.  
Ah sirrah, this unlooked for sport comes well,  
Nay sit, nay sit, good cozen Capulet:  
For you and I are past our standing days,  
How long is it since you and I were in a Mask?  Cos: 
By Lady sir 'tis thirty years at least.  cap. 
'tis not so much, 'tis not so much.  
'tis since the marriage of Lucentio,  
Come Pentecost as quickly as it will,  
Some five and twenty years, and then we masked.  Cos: 
'tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder far.  cap. 
Will you tell me that it cannot be so,  
His son was but a Ward three years ago,  
Good youths I faith. Oh youths a jolly thing.  Rom: 
What Lady is that that doth enrich the hand  
Of yonder Knight? O she doth teach the torches to burn bright!  
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night,  
Like a rich jewel in an Aethiops ear,  
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear:  
So shines a snowwhite Swan trooping with Crows,  
As this fair Lady over her fellows shows.  
The measure done, i'll watch her place of stand,  
And touching hers, make happy my rude hand  
Did my heart love till now? Forswear it sight,  
I never saw true beauty till this night.  Tib: 
This by his voice should be a Montague,  
Fetch me my rapier boy. What dares the slave  
Come hither covered with an Antic face,  
To scorn and jeer at our solemnity?  
Now by the stock and honour of my kin,  
To strike him dead I hold it for no sin.  Ca: 
Why how now cozen, wherefore storm you so.  Ti: 
Uncle this is a Montague our so,  
A villain that is hither come in spite,  
To mock at our solemnity this night.  Ca: 
Young Romeo, is it not?  Ti: 
It is that villain Romeo.  Ca: 
Let him alone, he bears him like a portly gentleman▪  
And to speak truth, Verona brags of him,  
As of a virtuous and well governed youth:  
I would not for the wealth of all this town,  
Here in my house do him disparagement:  
Therefore be quiet take no note of him,  
Bear a fair presence, and put off these frowns,  
An ill beseeming semblance for a feast.  Ti: 
It fits when such a villain is a guest,  
Ile endure endure him.  Ca: 
He shallbe endured, go to I say, he shall,  
Am I the Master of the house or you?  
You'll not endure him? God shall mend my soul  
You'll make a mutiny amongst my guests,  
You'll set Cock a hoop, you'll be the man.  Ti: 
Uncle 'tis a shame.  Ca: 
Go too, you are a saucy knave.  
This trick will scathe you one day I know what.  
Well said my hearts. Be quiet:  
once light Ye knave, or I will make you quiet.  Tibalt: 
Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting▪  
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greetings:  
I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall  
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.  Rom: 
If I profane with my unworthy hand,  
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:  
My lips two blushing Pilgrims ready stand,  
To smooth the rough touch with a gentle kiss.  juli: 
Good Pilgrim you do wrong your hand, too much,  
Which mannerly devotion shows in this:  
For Saints have hands which holy Palmers touch,  
And Palm to Palm is holy Palmer's kiss.  Rom: 
Have not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too?  juli: 
Yes Pilgrim lips that they must use in prayer.  Ro: 
Why then fair saint, let lips do what hands do,  
They pray, yield thou, least faith turn to despair.  In 
Saints do not move though: grant nor prayer forsake.  Ro: 
Then move not till my prayers effect I take.  
Thus from my lips, by yours my sin is purged.  In 
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.  Ro: 
Sin from my lips, O trespass sweetly urged!  
Give me my sin again.  In 
You kiss by the book.  Nurse: 
Madame your mother calls.  Rom: 
What is her mother?  Nurse: 
Marry Bachelor her mother is the lady of the house, and a good Lady, and a wise, and a virtuous. I nursed her daughter that you talked withal, I tell you, he that can lay hold of her shall have the chinks.  Rom: 
Is she a Montague? Oh dear account,  
My life is my foe's thrall.  Ca: 
Nay gentlemen prepare not to be gone,  
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.  They whisper in his ear▪ 
I pray you let me entreat you Is it so?  
Well then I thank you honest Gentlemen,  
I promise you but for your company,  
I would have been a bed an hour ago:  
Light to my chamber ho.  Exeunt. Iul: 
Nurse, what is yonder Gentleman?  Nurse: 
The son and heir of old Tiberio.  Iul: 
What's he that now is going out of door?  Nurse: 
That as I think is young Petruchio.  Iul: 
What's he that follows there that would not dance▪  Nurse: 
I know not.  Iul: 
Go learn his name, if he be married,  
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.  Nurse: 
His name is Romeo and a Montague, the only son of your great enemy.  Iul: 
My only love sprung from my only hate,  
Too early seen unknown, and known too late:  
Prodigious birth of love is this to me,  
That I should love a loathed enemy.  Nurse: 
What's this? what's that?  Iul: 
Nothing Nurse but a rhyme I learned even now of one I danced with.  Nurse: 
Come your mother stays for you, I'll go a long with you.  Exeunt. Enter Romeo alone. Ro: 
Shall I go forward and my heart is here?  
Turn back dull earth and find thy Centre out.  Enter Benuolio Mercutio. Ben: 
Romeo, my cozen Romeo.  Mer: 
Dost thou hear he is wise,  
Upon my life he hath stolen him home to bed.  Ben: 
He came this way, and leapt this Orchard wall.  
Call good Mercutio.  Mer: 
Call, nay I'll conjure too.  
Romeo, madman, humours, passion, liver, appear thou in likeness of a sigh: speak but one rhyme & I am satisfied, cry but ay me. Pronounce but Love and Dove, speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, one nickname for her purblind son and heir young Abraham: Cupid he that shot so trim when young King Cophetua loved the beggar wench. He hears me not. I conjure thee by Rosalindes bright eye, high forehead, and scarlet lip, her pretty foot, strait leg, and quivering thigh, and the domains that there adjacent lie, that in thy likeness thou appear to us.  Ben: 
If he do hear thee thou wilt anger him.  Mer: 
Tut this cannot anger him, marry if one should raise a spirit in his Mistress circle of some strange fashion, making it there to stand till she had laid it, and conjured it down, that were some spite. My invocation is fair and honest, and in his Mistress name I conjure only but to raise up him.  Ben: 
Well he hath hid himself amongst those trees,  
To be comforted with the humorous night,  
Blind in his love, and best befits the dark.  Mer: 
If love be blind, love will not hit the mark,  
Now will he sit under a Medler tree,  
And wish his Mistress were that kind of fruit,  
As maids call Meddlers when they laugh alone.  
Ah Romeo that she were, ah that she were.  
An open Et caetera, thou a poprin Pear.  
Romeo God night, i'll to my trundle bed:  
This field bed is too cold for me.  
Come let's away, for 'tis but vain,  
To seek him here that means not to be found.  Ro: 
He jests at scars that never felt a wound:  
But soft, what light forth yonder window breaks?  
It is the East, and juliet is the Sun,  
Arise fair sun, and kill the envious Moon  
That is already sick, and pale with grief:  
That thou her maid, art far more fair than she.  
Be not her maid since she is envious,  
Her vestal livery is but pale and green,  
And none but fools do wear it, cast it off.  
She speaks, but she says nothing. What of that?  
Her eye discourseth, I will answer it.  
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks,  
Two of the fairest stars in all the skies,  
Having some business, do entreat her eyes  
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.  
What if her eyes were there, they in her head,  
The brightness of her cheeks would shame those stars:  
As daylight doth a Lamp, her eyes in heaven,  
Would through the airy region stream so bright,  
That birds would sing, and think it were not night.  
Oh now she leans her cheeks upon her hand,  
I would I were the glove to that same hand,  
That I might kiss that cheek.  Iul: 
Ay me.  Rom: 
She speaks, Oh speak again bright Angel:  
For thou art as glorious to this night being over my head,  
As is a winged messenger of heaven  
Unto the white upturned wondering eyes,  
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him,  
When he bestrides the lazy pacing clouds,  
And sails upon the bosom of the air.  Iul: 
Ah Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?  
Deny thy Father, and refuse thy name,  
Or if thou wilt not be but sworn my love,  
And i'll no longer be a Capulet.  Rom: 
Shall I hear more, or shall I speak to this?  Iul: 
'tis but thy name that is mine enemy.  
What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot,  
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part.  
What's in a name? That which we call a Rose,  
By any other name would smell as sweet:  
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,  
Retain the divine perfection he owes:  
Without that title Romeo part thy name,  
And for that name which is no part of thee,  
Take all I have.  Rom: 
I take thee at thy word,  
Call me but love, and i'll be new Baptisde,  
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.  In 
What man art thou, that thus beskrind in night,  
Dost stumble on my counsel?  Ro: 
By a name I know not how to tell thee.  
My name dear Saint is hateful to myself,  
Because it is an enemy to thee▪  
Had I it written I would tear the word.  Iul: 
My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words  
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:  
Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?  Ro: 
Neither fair Saint, if either thee displease.  In 
How camest thou hither, tell me and wherefore?  
The Orchard walls are high and hard to climb,  
And the place death considering who thou art,  
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.  Ro: 
By loves light wings did I oreperch these walls,  
For stony limits cannot hold love out,  
And what love can do, that dares love attempt,  
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.  Iul: 
If they do find thee they will murder thee.  Ro: 
Alas there lies more peril in thine eyes,  
Then twenty of their swords, look thou but sweet,  
And I am proof against their enmity.  Iul: 
I would not for the world they should find thee here.  Ro: 
I have night's cloak to hide thee from their sight,  
And but thou love me let them find me here:  
For life were better ended by their hate,  
Than death prorogued wanting of thy love.  In 
By whose directions foundst thou out this place.  Ro: 
By love, who first did prompt me to inquire,  
I he gave me counsel and I lent him eyes.  
I am no Pilot: yet wert thou as far  
As that vast shore, washed with the furthest sea,  
I would adventure for such Merchandise.  Iul: 
Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,  
Else would a Maiden blush be paint my cheeks:  
For that which thou haste heard me speak to night,  
Feign would I dwell on form, feign feign deny,  
What I have spoke: but farewell compliments.  
Dost thou love me? Nay I know thou wilt say I,  
And I will take thy word: but if thou swearest,  
Thou mayest prove false:  
At lovers perjuries they say jove smiles.  
Ah gentle Romeo, if thou love pronounce it faithfully:  
Or it thou think I am too easily won,  
I'll frown and say thee nay and be perverse,  
So thou wilt woo: but else not for the world,  
In truth fair Montague, I am too fond,  
And therefore thou mayest think my haviour light:  
But trust me gentleman I'll prove more true,  
Than they that have more cunning to be strange.  
I 〈…〉 confess,  
But that thou overheardst ere I was beware  
My true loves Passion: therefore pardon me,  
And not impute this yielding to light love,  
Which the dark night hath so discovered.  Ro: 
By yonder blessed Moon I swear,  
That tips with silver all these fruit trees tops.  Iul: 
O swear not by the Moon the unconstant Moon,  
That monthly changeth in her circled orb,  
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.  Ro: 
Now by  Iul: 
Nay do not swear at all,  
Or if thou swear, swear by thy glorious self,  
Which art the God of my Idolatry,  
And Ile believe thou.  Ro: 
If my true heart's love  Iul: 
Swear not at all, though I do jouy in thee,  
I have small joy in this contract to night,  
It is too rash, too sudden, too unadvised,  
Too like the lightning that doth cease to be  
E'er one can say it lightens. I hear some coming,  
Dear love adieu, sweet Montague be true,  
Stay but a little and i'll come again.  Ro: 
blessed blessed blessed night, I fear being night,  
All this is but a dream I hear and see,  
Too flattering true to be substantial.  Iul: 
Three words good Romeo and good night indeed.  
If that thy bend of love be honourable?  
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to morrow  
By one that i'll procure to come to thee:  
Where and what time thou wilt perform that right,  
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,  
And follow thee my Lord through out the world.  Ro: 
Love goes toward love like school boys from their books,  
But love from love, to school with heavy looks.  Iul. 
Romeo, Romeo, O for a falconers voice,  
To lure this Tassel gentle back again:  
Bondage is hoarse and may not cry aloud,  
Else would I tear the cave where echo lies  
And make her airy voice as hoarse as mine,  
With repetition of my Romeos' name.  
Romeo?  Ro: 
It is my soul that calls upon my name,  
How silver sweet sound lovers tongues in night.  Iul: 
Romeo?  Ro: 
Madame.  Iul: 
At what a clock to morrow shall I send?  Ro: 
At the hour of nine.  Iul: 
I will not fail, 'tis twenty years till then.  
Romeo I have forgot why I did call thee back.  Rom: 
Let me stay here till you remember it.  Iul: 
I shall forget to have thee still stay here,  
Remembering how I love thy company.  Rom: 
And i'll stay still to have thee still forget,  
Forgetting any other home but this.  In 
'tis almost morning I would have thee gone,  
But yet no further than a wantoness bird,  
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,  
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gives,  
And with a silk thread pulls it back again,  
Too loving jealous of his liberty.  Ro: 
Would I were thy bird.  Iul: 
Sweet so would I,  
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing thee.  
Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow,  
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.  Rom: 
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace on thy breast▪  
I would that I were sleep and peace of sweet to rest.  
Now will I to my Ghostly father's Cell,  
His help to crave, and my good hap to tell.  Enter Friar Francis. Friar: 
The grey eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,  
Checkring the Eastern clouds with streaks of light,  
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels,  
From forth days path, and Titan's fiery wheels:  
Now ere the Sun advance his burning eye,  
The world to cheer, and nights dark dew to dry  
We must up fill this oasier Cage of ours,  
With baleful weeds, and precious ivyced flowers.  
Oh much is the powerful grace that lies  
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:  
For nought so vile, that vile on earth doth live,  
But to the earth some special good doth give:  
Nor nought so good, but strained from that fair use,  
Revolts to vice and stumbles on abuse:  
Virtue itself turns vice being misapplied,  
And vice sometimes by action dignified.  
Within the infant rind of this small flower,  
Poison hath residence, and medicine power:  
For this being smelled too, with that part cheers each heart,  
Being tasted slays all senses with the heart.  
Two such opposed foes in camp them still,  
In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will,  
And where the worse is predominant,  
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.  Rom: 
Good morrow to my Ghostly Confessor.  Fri: 
Benedicite, what early tongue so soon saluteth me,  
Young son it argues a distempered head,  
So soon to bid good morrow to my bed.  
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,  
And where care lodgeth, sleep can never lie:  
But where unbruised youth with unstuffed brains  
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep remains:  
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,  
Thou art vprowsed by some distemperature.  
Or if not so, then here I hit it right  
Our Romeo hath not been a bed to night.  Ro: 
The last was true, the sweeter rest was mine.  Fr: 
God pardon sin, wert thou with Rosaline?  Ro: 
With Rosaline my Ghostly father no,  
I have forgot that name, and that names woe.  Fri: 
That's my good son: but where hast thou been then?  Ro: 
I tell thee ere thou ask it me again,  
I have been feasting with mine enemy:  
Where on the sudden one hath wounded me  
That's by me wounded, both our remedies  
With in thy help and holy physic lies,  
I bear no hatred blessed man: for lo  
My intercession likewise steads my foe.  Friar: 
Be plain my son and homely in thy drift,  
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.  Rom: 
Then plainly know my hearts dear love is set  
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:  
As mine on hers, so hers likewise on mine,  
And all combined, save what thou must combine  
By holy marriage: where, and when, and how,  
We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vows,  
I'll tell thee as I pass: But this I pray,  
That thou consent to marry us to day.  Fri: 
Holy S. Francis, what a change is here?  
Is Rosaline whom thou didst love so dear  
So soon forsook, lo young men's love then lies  
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.  
jesus Maria, what a deal of brine  
Hath washed thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline?  
How much salt water cast away in waste,  
To season love, that of love doth not taste.  
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,  
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears,  
And lo upon thy cheek the stain doth sit,  
Of an old tear that is not washed off yet.  
If ever thou wert thus, and these woes thine,  
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline,  
And art thou changed, pronounce this sentence then  
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.  Rom: 
Thou chidst me oft for loving Rosaline.  Fr: 
For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.  Rom: 
And badst me bury love.  Fr: 
Not in a grave,  
To lay one in another out to have▪  Rom: 
I pray thee chide not, she whom I love now  
Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow:  
The other did not so.  Fr: 
Oh she knew well  
Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.  
But come young Waverer, come go with me,  
In one respect I'll thy assistant be:  
For this alliance may so happy prove,  
To turn your households rancour to pure love.  Exeunt. Enter Mercutio, Benuolio. Mer: 
Why what's become of Romeo? came he not home to night?  Ben: 
Not to his Fathers, I spoke with his man.  Mer: 
Ah that same pale hard hearted wench, that Rosaline,  
Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.  Mer: 
Tybalt the Kinsman of old Capolet  
Hath sent a Letter to his Father's House:  
Some Challenge on my life.  Ben: 
Romeo will answer it.  Mer: 
I, any man that can write may answer a letter.  Ben: 
Nay, he will answer the letters master if he be challenged.  Mer: 
Who, Romeo? why he is already dead: stabbed with a white wenches black eye, shot through the ear with a love song▪ the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boyes butt-shaft. And is he a man to encounter Tybalt?  Ben: 
Why what is Tybalt?  Mer: 
More than the prince of cats I can tell you. Oh he is the courageous captain of compliments, Catso, he fights as you sing pricksong, keeps time distance and proportion, rests me his minum rest one two and the third in your bosom, the very butcher of a silken button, a duelist a duelist, a gentleman of the very first house of the first and second cause, ah the immortal Passado, the Punto reverso, the Hay.  Ben: 
The what?  Me: 
The Pox of such limping antic affecting fantasticoes these new tuners of accents. By jesus a very good blade, a very tall man, a very good whore. Why grandsire is not this a miserable case that we should be still afflicted with these strange flies: these fashionmongers, these pardonmees, that stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench. Oh their bones, their bones.  Ben. 
here comes Romeo.  Mer: 
Without his Roe, like a dried Hearing. O flesh flesh how art thou fishified. Sirrah now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his Lady was but a kitchen drudge, yet she had a better love to berhyme her: Dido a dowdy Cleopatra a Gipsy, Hero and Helen hildings and harletries: Thisby a gray eye or so, but not to the purpose. signor Romeo bon iour, there is a French courtesy to your French flop: ye gave us the counterfeit fairly yesternight.  Rom: 
What sergeant I pray you?  Me: 
The slip the slip, can you not conceive?  Rom: 
I cry you mercy my business was great, and in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy.  Mer: 
Oh that's as much to say as such a case as yours will constrain a man to bow in the hams.  Rom: 
A most courteous exposition.  Me: 
Why I am the very pink of courtesy.  Rom: 
Pink for flower?  Mer: 
Right.  Rom: 
Then is my Pump well flowered:  Mer: 
Well said, follow me now that jest till thou hast worn out thy Pump, that when the single sole of it is worn the jest may remain after the wearing solely singular.  Rom: 
O single soald jest solely singular for the singleness.  Me. 
Come between us good Benuolio, for my wits fail.  Rom: 
Swits and spurs, swits & spurs, or I'll cry a match.  Mer: 
Nay if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have done: for I am sure thou hast more of the goose in one of thy wits than I have in all my five: Was I with you there for the goose?  Rom: 
Thou wert never with me for any thing, when thou wert not with me for the goose.  Me: 
I'll bite thee by the ear for that jest.  Rom: 
Nay good goose bite not.  Mer: 
Why thy wit is a bitter sweeting, a most sharp sauce  Rom: 
And was it not well served in to a sweet goose?  Mer: 
Oh here is a wit of Chevril that stretcheth from an inch narrow to an ell broad.  Rom: 
I stretched it out for the word broad, which added to the goose, proves thee fair and wide a broad goose.  Mer: 
Why is not this better now than groaning for love? why now art thou sociable, now art thou thyself, now art thou what thou art, as well by art as nature. This drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs up and down to hide his babble in a hole.  Ben: 
Stop there.  Me: 
Why thou wouldst have me stop my tale against the hair.  Ben: 
Thou wouldst have made thy tale too long?  Mer: 
Tut man thou art deceived, I meant to make it short, for I was come to the whole depth of my tale? and meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer.  Rom: 
Heers goodly gear.  Enter Nurse and her man. Mer: 
A sail, a sail, a sail.  Ben: 
Two, two, a shirt and a smock.  Nurse: 
Peter, pray thee give me my fan.  Mer: 
Pray thee do good Peter, to hide her face: for her fan is the fairer of the two.  Nurse: 
God ye good-morrow Gentlemen.  Mer: 
God ye good den fair Gentlewomen.  Nurse: 
Is it god ye gooden I pray you.  Mer: 
'tis no less I assure you, for the bawdy hand of the dial is even now upon the prick of noon.  Nurse: 
Fie, what a man is this?  Rom: 
A Gentleman Nurse, that God hath made for himself to mar.  Nurse: 
By my troth well said: for himself to mar quoth he? I pray you can any of you tell where one may find young Romeo?  Rom: 
I can: but young Romeo will be elder when you have found him, that he was when you sought him. I am the youngest of that name for fault of a worse.  Nurse: 
Well said.  Mer: 
Yea, is the worst well? mas well noted, wisely, wisely.  Nu: 
If you be he sir, I desire some conference with ye.  Ben: 
O, belike she means to invite him to supper.  Mer: 
So ho. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd.  Rom: 
Why what hast found man?  Mer: 
No hare sir, unless it be a hare in a lenten pie, that is somewhat stolen and hoar ere it be eaten.  He walks by them, and sings. 
And an old hare hore, and an old hare hore is very good meat in Lent:  
But a hare that's hoar is too much for a score, if it hore ere it be spent.  
You! come to your fathers to supper?  Rom: 
I will.  Mer: 
Farewell ancient Lady, farewell sweet Lady.  Exeunt Benuolio, Mercutio. Nurse: 
Marry farewell. Pray what saucy merchant was this that was so full of his roperipe?  Rom: 
A gentleman Nurse that loves to hear himself talk, and will speak more in an hour than he will stand to in a month.  Nurse: 
If he stand to any thing against me, Ile take him down if he were lustier than he is: if I cannot take him down, I'll find them that shall: I am none of his flurtgills, I am none of his skeins mates. She turns to Peter her man. And thou like a knave must stand by, and see every jacke use me at his pleasure.  Pet: 
I see no body use you at his pleasure, if I had, I would soon have drawn: you know my tool is as soon out as another's if I see time and place.  Nurse: 
Now afore God he hath so vexed me, that every member about me quivers: scurvy jacke. But as I said, my Lady bade me seek ye out, and what she bade me tell ye, that I'll keep to myself: but if you should lead her into a fools paradise as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour as they say, for the Gentlewoman is young. Now if you should deal doubly with her, it were very weak dealing, and not to be offered to any Gentlewoman.  Rom: 
Nurse, commend me to thy Lady, tell her I protest.  Nurse: 
Good heart: i'faith I'll tell her so: oh she will be a joyful woman.  Rom: 
Why, what wilt thou tell her?  Nurse: 
That you do protest: which (as I take it) is a Gentleman like proffer.  Rom: 
Bid her get leave to morrow morning  
To come to shrift to Friar Laurence cell:  
And stay thou Nurse behind the Abbey wall,  
My man shall come to thee, and bring along  
The cords, made like a tackled stair,  
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy  
Must be my conduct in the secret night.  
Hold, take that for thy pains.  Nurse: 
No, not a penny truly.  Rom: 
I say you shall not choose.  Nurse: 
Well, to morrow morning she shall not fail.  Rom: 
Farewell, be trusty, and I'll quite thy pain.  Exit Nurse: 
Peter, take my fan, and go before.  Ex. omnes. Enter juliet. Iul: 
The clock struck nine when I did send my Nurse  
In half an hour she promised to return.  
Perhaps she cannot find him. That's not so.  
Oh she is lazy, loves heralds should be thoughts,  
And run more swift, than hasty powder fired,  
Doth hurry from the fearful Cannon's mouth.  Enter Nurse. 
Oh now she comes. Tell me gentle Nurse,  
What says my Love?  Nurse: 
Oh I am weary, let me rest a while. Lord how my bones ache. Oh where's my man? Give me some aqua vitae.  Iul: 
I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news.  Nurse: 
Fie, what a jaunt have I had: and my back a other side. Lord, Lord, what a case am I in.  Iul: 
But tell me sweet Nurse, what says Romeo?  Nurse: 
Romeo, nay, alas you cannot choose a man. he's no body, he is not the Flower of courtesy, he is not a proper man: and for a hand, and a foot, and a bawdy, well go thy way wench, thou hast it i'faith. Lord, Lord, how my head beats?  Iul: 
What of all this? tell me what says he to our marriage?  Nurse: 
Marry he says like an honest Gentleman, and a kind, and I warrant a virtuous: where's your Mother?  Iul: 
Lord, Lord, how oddly thou repliest? He says like a kind Gentleman, and an honest, and a virtuous; where's your mother?  Nurse: 
Marry come up, cannot you stay a while? is this the poultice for mine a king bones? next arrant you'll have done, even do't yourself.  Iul: 
Nay stay sweet Nurse, I do entreat thee now,  
What says my Love, my Lord, my Romeo?  Nurse: 
Go, high you strait to Friar Laurence Cell,  
And frame a excuse that you must go to shrift:  
There stays a Bridegroom to make you a Bride.  
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,  
I must provide a ladder made of cords,  
With which your Lord must climb a bride's nest soon.  
I must take pains to further your delight,  
But you must bear the burden soon at night.  
Doth this news please you now?  Iul: 
How doth her latter words revive my heart.  
Thanks gentle Nurse, dispatch thy business,  
And I'll not fail to meet my Romeo.  Exeunt. Enter Romeo, Friar. Rom: 
Now Father Laurence, in thy holy grant  
Consists the good of me and juliet.  Fr: 
Without more words I will do all I may,  
To make you happy if in me it lie.  Rom: 
This morning here she pointed we should meet,  
And consummate those never parting bands,  
Witness of our heart's love by joining hands,  
And come she will.  Fr: 
I guess she will indeed,  
Youth's love is quick, swifter than swiftest speed.  Enter juliet somewhat fast, and embraceth Romeo. 
See where she comes.  
So light of foot near hurts the trodden flower:  
Of love and joy, see see the sovereign power,  Iul: 
Romeo.  Rom: 
My juliet welcome. As do waking eyes  
(Closed in Night's mists) attend the frolic Day,  
So Romeo hath expected juliet,  
And thou art come.  Iul: 
I am (if I be Day)  
Come to my Sun: shine forth, and make me fair.  Rom: 
All beauteous fairness dwelleth in thine eyes.  lull 
Romeo from thine all brightness doth arise.  Fr: 
Come wantoness, come, the stealing hours do pass  
Defer embracements till some fitter time,  
Part for a while, you shall not be alone,  
Till holy Church have joined ye both in one.  Rom: 
Led holy Father, all delay seems long.  Iul: 
Make haste, make haste, this lingering doth us wrong.  Fr: 
O, soft and fair makes sweetest work they say.  
Hast is a common hinderer in cross way.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Benuolio, Mercutio. Ben: 
I pray thee good Mercutio let's retire,  
The day is hot, the Capulets are abroad.  Mer: 
Thou art like one of those, that when he comes into the confines of a tavern, claps me his rapier on the board, and says, God send me no need of thee: and by the operation of the next cup of wine, he draws it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.  Ben: 
Am I like such a one?  Mer: 
Go too, thou art as hot a jacke being moved, and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.  Ben: 
And what too?  Mer: 
Nay, and there were two such, we should have none shortly. Didst not thou fall out with a man for cracking of nuts, having no other reason, but because thou hadst hasill eyes? what eye but such an eye would have picked out such a quarrel? With another for coughing, because he waked thy dog that lay a sleep in the Sun? With a Tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter: and with another for tying his new shoes with old ribbons. And yet thou wilt forbid me of quarreling.  Ben: 
By my head here comes a Capolet.  Enter Tybalt. Mer: 
By my heel I care not.  Tyb: 
Gentlemen a word with one of you.  Mer: 
But one word with one of us? You had best couple it with somewhat, and make it a word and a blow.  Tyb: 
I am apt enough to that if I have occasion.  Mer: 
Can you not take occasion?  Tyb: 
Mercutio thou consorts with Romeo?  Mer: 
Consort Zwounes consort? the slave will make fiddlers of us. If you do sirrah, look for nothing but discord: For here's my fiddlestick.  Enter Romeo. Tyb. 
Well peace be with you, here comes my man.  Mer: 
But I'll be hanged if he wear your livery: Marry go before into the field, and he may be your follower, so in that sense your worship may call him man.  Tyb: 
Romeo the hate I bear to thee can afford no better words then these, thou art a villain.  Rom: 
Tybalt the love I bear to thee, doth excuse the appertaining rage to such a word: villain am I none, therefore I well perceive thou know'st me not.  Tyb: 
Base boy this cannot serve thy turn, and therefore draw.  Ro: 
I do protest I never injured thee, but love thee better than thou canst devise, till thou shalt know the reason of my love.  Mer: 
O dishonourable vile submission. Allastockado carries it away. You Rat-catcher, come back, come back.  Tyb: 
What wouldst with me?  Mer: 
Nothing King of Cates, but borrow one of your nine lives, therefore come draw your rapier out of your scabbard, lest mine be about your ears ere you be aware.  Rom: 
Stay Tibalt, hold Mercutio: Benuolio beat down their weapons.  Tibalt under Romeos' arm thrusts Mercutio, in and flies. Mer: 
Is he gone, hath he nothing? A pox on your houses.  Rom: 
What art thou hurt man, the wound is not deep.  Mer: 
Noah not so deep as a Well, not so wide as a barn door, but it will serve I warrant. What meant you to come between us? I was hurt under your arm.  Rom: 
I did all for the best.  Mer: 
A poxe of your houses, I am fairly dressed. Sirrah go fetch me a Surgeon.  Boy: 
I go my Lord.  Mer: 
I am peppered for this world, I am sped i'faith, he hath made worms meat of me, & ye ask for me to morrow you shall find me a graveman. A pox of your houses, I shall be fairly mounted upon four men's shoulders: For your house of the Mountegues and the Capolets: and then some peasantly rogue, some Sexton, some base slave shall write my Epitapth, that Tybalt came and broke the Prince's Laws, and Mercutio was slain for the first and second cause. where's the Surgeon?  Boy: 
he's come sir.  Mer: 
Now he'll keep a mumbling in my guts on the other side, come Benuolio, lend me thy hand: a pox of your houses.  Exeunt Rom: 
This Gentleman the Princes near Alie.  
My very friend hath ta'en this mortal wound  
In my behalf, my reputation stained  
With Tibalts slander, Tybalt that an hour  
Hath been my kinsman, Ah juliet  
Thy beauty makes me thus effeminate,  
And in my temper softens valours steel.  Enter Benuolio. Ben: 
Ah Romeo Romeo brave Mercutio is dead,  
That gallant spirit hath a spired the clouds,  
Which too untimely scorned the lowly earth.  Rom: 
This days black fate, on more days doth depend  
This but gins what other days must end.  Enter Tibalt. Ben: 
Hear comes the furious Tibalt back again,  Rom: 
A live in triumph and Mercutio slain?  
A way to heaven respective lenity:  
And fire eyed fury be my conduct now.  
Now Tibalt take the villain back again,  
Which late thou gav'st me: for Mercutio's soul,  
Is but a little way above the clouds,  
And stays for thine to bear him company.  
Or thou, or I, or both shall follow him.  Fight, Tibalt falls. Ben: 
Romeo away, thou seest that Tibalt's slain,  
The Citizen's approach, away, begun  
Thou wilt be taken.  Rom: 
Ah I am fortune's slave.  Exeunt Enter Citizens. Watch. 
where's he that slew Mercutio, Tybalt that villain?  Ben: 
There is that Tybalt.  
Up sirrah go with us▪  Enter Prince, Capulet's wife. Prie: 
Where be the vile beginners of this fray?  Ben: 
Ah Noble Prince I can discover all  
The most unlucky manage of this brawl.  
Hear lies the man slain by young Romeo,  
That slew thy kinsman brave Mercutio,  M: 
Tibalt, Tybalt, O my brother's child,  
Unhappy sight? Ah the blood is spilled  
Of my dear kinsman, Prince as thou art true:  
For blood of ours, shed blood of Mountagew.  Prie: 
Speak Benuolio who began this fray?  Ben: 
Tibalt here slain whom Romeos hand did slay.  
Romeo who spoke him fair bid him bethink  
How nice the quarrel was.  
But Tibalt still persisting in his wrong,  
The stout Mercutio drew to calm the storm,  
Which Romeo seeing called stay Gentlemen,  
And on me cried, who drew to part their strife,  
And with his agile arm young Romeo,  
As fast as tongue cried peace, sought peace to make.  
While they were interchanging thrusts and blows,  
Under young Romeo's labouring arm to part,  
The furious Tybalt cast an envious thrust,  
That rid the life of stout Mercutio.  
With that he fled▪ but presently returned,  
And with his rapier braved Romeo:  
That had but newly entertained revenge.  
And ere I could draw forth my rapier  
To part their fury, down did Tybalt fall,  
And this way Romeo fled.  Mo: 
He is a Montague and speaks partial,  
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife:  
And all those twenty could but kill one life.  
I do entreat sweet Prince thou'lt justice give.  
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo may not live.  Prin: 
And for that offence  
Immediately we do exile him hence.  
I have an interest in your hates proceeding,  
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding.  
But I'll amerce you with so large a fine,  
That you shall all repent the loss of mine.  
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses,  
Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase for abuses.  
Pity shall dwell and govern with us still:  
Mercy to all but murderers, pardoning none that kill.  Exeunt omnes. Enter juliet. Iul: 
Gallop apace you fiery footed steeds  
To Phoebus' mansion, such a wagoner  
As Phaeton, would quickly bring you thither,  
And send in cloudy night immediately.  Enter Nurse wring her hands, with the ladder of cords in her lap. 
But how now Nurse: O Lord, why look'st thou sad?  
What hast thou there, the cords?  Nurse: 
I, I, the cords: alack we are undone,  
We are undone, Lady we are undone.  Iul: 
What devil art thou that torments me thus?  Nurse: 
Alack the day, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead▪  Iul: 
This torture should be roared in dismal hell.  
Can heavens be so envious?  Nurse: 
Romeo can if heavens cannot.  
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes.  
God save the sample, on his manly breast:  
A bloody coarse, a piteous bloody coarse,  
All pale as ashes, I swooned at the sight.  Iul: 
Ah Romeo, Romeo, what disaster hap  
Hath severed thee from thy true juliet?  
Ah why should Heaven so much conspire with Woe,  
Or Fate envy our happy Marriage,  
So soon to sunder us by timeless Death?  Nurse: 
O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had,  
O honest Tybalt, courteous Gentleman.  Iul: 
What storm is this that blows so contrary,  
Is Tybalt dead, and Romeo murdered:  
My dear loud cousin, and my dearest Lord.  
Than let the trumpet sound a general doom,  
These two being dead, then living is there none.  Nurse: 
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished,  
Romeo that murdered him is banished.  Iul: 
Ah heavens, did Romeos' hand shed Tybalts blood?  Nurse: 
It did, it did, alack the day it did.  Iul: 
O serpents hate, hid with a flowering face:  
O painted sepulchre, including filth.  
Was never book containing so foul matter,  
So fairly bound. Ah, what meant Romeo?  Nurse: 
There is no truth, no faith, no honesty in men:  
All false, all faithless, perjured, all forsworn.  
Shame come to Romeo.  Iul: 
A blister on that tongue, he was not borne to shame:  
Upon his face Shame is ashamed to sit.  
But wherefore villain didst thou kill my Cousin?  
That villain Cousin would have killed my husband.  
All this is comfort. But there yet remains  
Worse than his death, which feign I would forget:  
But ah, it presseth to my memory,  
Romeo is banished. Ah that word Banished  
Is worse than death. Romeo is banished,  
Is Father, Mother, Tybalt, juliet,  
All killed, all slain, all dead, all banished.  
Where are my Father and my Mother Nurse?  Nurse: 
Weeping and wailing over Tybalts coarse.  
Will you go to them?  Iul: 
I, I, when theirs are spent,  
Mine shall be shed for Romeos' banishment.  Nurse: 
Lady, your Romeo will be here to night,  
I'll to him, he is hid at Laurence Cell.  Iul: 
Do so, and bear this Ring to my true Knight,  
And bid him come to take his last farewell.  Exeunt. Enter Friar. Fr: 
Romeo come forth, come forth thou fearful man,  
Affliction is enamoured on thy parts,  
And thou art wedded to Calamity.  Enter Romeo. Rom: 
Father what news, what is the Prince's doom,  
What Sorrow craves acquaintance at our hands,  
Which yet we know not.  Fr: 
Too familiar  
Is my young son with such four company:  
I bring thee tidings of the Prince's doom.  Rom: 
What less than dooms day is the Prince's doom?  Fr: 
A gentler judgement vanished from his lips,  
Not bodies death, but body's banishment.  Rom: 
Ha, Banished? be merciful, say death:  
For Exile hath more terror in his looks,  
Than death itself, do not say Banishment.  Fr: 
Hence from Verona art thou banished:  
Be patiented, for the world is broad and wide.  Rom: 
There is no world without Verona walls,  
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.  
Hence banished, is banished from the world:  
And world exiled is death. Calling death banishment,  
Thou cuttest my head off with a golden axe,  
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.  Fr: 
Oh monstrous sin, O rude unthankfulness:  
Thy fault our law calls death, but the mild Prince  
(Taking thy part) hath rushed aside the law,  
And turned that black word death to banishment:  
This is mere mercy, and thou seest it not.  Rom: 
'tis torture and not mercy, heaven is here  
Where juliet lives: and every cat and dog,  
And little mouse, every unworthy thing  
live here in heaven, and may look on her,  
But Romeo may not. More validity,  
More honourable state, more courtship lives  
In carrion flies, than Romeo: they may seize  
On the white wonder of fair Iuliets skin,  
And steal immortal kisses from her lips;  
But Romeo may not, he is banished.  
Flies may do this, but I from this must fly.  
Oh Father hadst thou no strong poison mixed,  
No sharp ground knife, no present mean of death,  
Though near so mean, but banishment  
To torture me withal: ah, banished.  
O Friar, the damned use that word in hell:  
Howling attends it. How hadst thou the heart,  
Being a Divine, a ghostly Confessor,  
A sin absolver, and my friend professed,  
To mangle me with that word, Banishment?  Fr: 
Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.  Rom: 
O, thou wilt talk again of Banishment.  Fr: 
I'll give thee armour to bear off this word,  
Adversities sweet milk, philosophy,  
To comfort thee though thou be banished.  Rom: 
Yet Banished? hang up philosophy,  
Unless philosophy can make a juliet,  
Displant a Town, reverse a Prince's doom,  
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more.  Fr: 
O, now I see that madmen have no ears.  Rom: 
How should they, when that wise men have no eyes.  Fr: 
Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.  Rom: 
Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel.  
Wert thou as young as I, juliet thy Love,  
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered.  
Doting like me, and like me banished,  
Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair.  
And fall upon the ground as I do now,  
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.  Nurse knocks. Fr: 
Romeo arise, stand up thou wilt be taken,  
I hear one knock, arise and get thee gone.  Nu: 
Ho Friar.  Fr: 
God's will what wilfulness is this?  She knocks again. Nurse: 
Ho Friar open the door,  Fr: 
By and by I come. Who is there?  Nurse: 
One from Lady juliet.  Fr: 
Then come near.  Nurse: 
Oh holy Friar, tell me oh holy Friar,  
Where is my Lady's Lord? where's Romeo?  Fr: 
There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.  Nurse: 
Oh he is even in my Mistress case.  
Just in her case. Oh woeful sympathy,  
Piteous predicament, even so lies she,  
Weeping and blubbering, blubbering and weeping:  
Stand up, stand up, stand and you be a man.  
For Iuliets sake, for her sake rise and stand,  
Why should you fall into so deep an O.  He riseth. Romeo: 
Nurse.  Nurse: 
Ah sir, ah sir. Well death's the end of all.  Rom: 
Spakest thou of juliet, how is it with her?  
Doth she not think me an old murderer,  
Now I have stained the childhood of her joy,  
With blood removed but little from her own?  
Where is she? and how doth she? And what says  
My concealed Lady to our canceled love?  Nurse: 
Oh she saith nothing, but weeps and pules,  
And now falls on her bed, now on the ground,  
And Tybalt cries, and then on Romeo calls.  Rom: 
As if that name shot from the deadly level of a gun  
Did murder her, as that names cursed hand  
Murdered her kinsman. Ah tell me holy Friar  
In what vile part of this Anatomy  
Doth my name lie? Tell me that I may sack  
The hateful mansion?  He offers to stab himself, and Nurse snatches the dagger away. Nurse: 
Ah?  Fr: 
Hold, stay thy hand: art thou a man? thy form  
Cries out thou art, but thy wild acts denote  
The unreasonable furies of a beast.  
Unseemly woman in a seeming man,  
Or ill beseeming beast in seeming both.  
Thou hast amazed me. By my holy order,  
I thought thy disposition better tempered,  
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?  
And slay thy Lady too, that lives in thee?  
Rouse up thy spirits, thy Lady juliet lives,  
For whose sweet sake thou wert but lately dead:  
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,  
But thou slewest Tybalt, there art thou happy too.  
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back,  
Happiness Courts thee in his best array:  
But like a misbehaude and sullen wench  
Thou fro w●st upon thy Fate that smilles on thee.  
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.  
Go get thee to thy love as was decreed:  
Ascend her Chamber Window, hence and comfort her,  
But look thou stay not till the watch be set:  
For than thou canst not pass to Mantua.  
Nurse provide all things in a readiness,  
Comfort thy Mistress, haste the house to bed,  
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto.  Nurse: 
Good Lord what a thing learning is▪  
I could have stayed here all this night  
To hear good counsel. Well Sir,  
I'll tell my Lady that you will come.  Rom: 
Do so and bid my sweet prepare to child,  
Farewell good Nurse.  Nurse offers to go in and turns again. Nurse: 
Hear is a Ring Sir, that she bade me give you,  Rom: 
How well my comfort is revived by this.  Exit Nurse. Fr: 
Sojourn in Mantua, I'll find out your man,  
And he shall signify from time to time:  
Every good hap that doth befall thee here.  
Farewell.  Rom: 
But that a joy, past joy cries out on me,  
It were a grief so brief to part with thee.  Enter old Capolet and his Wife, with County Paris. cap. 
Things have fallen out Sir so unluckily,  
That we have had no time to move my daughter.  
Look ye Sir, she loved her kinsman dearly,  
And so did I. Well, we were borne to die,  
Wife where's your daughter, is she in her chamber?  
I think she means not to come down to night.  Par: 
These times of woe afford no time to woo,  
Madam farewell, commend me to your daughter.  Paris offers to go in, and Capolet calls him again. cap. 
Sir Paris? I'll make a desperate tender of my child.  
I think she will be ruled in all respects by me:  
But soft what day is this?  Par: 
Monday my Lord.  cap. 
Oh then Wednesday is too soon,  
On Thursday let it be: you shall be married.  
we'll make no great a do, a friend or two, or so:  
For look ye Sir, Tybalt being slain so lately,  
It will be thought we held him carelessly:  
If we should revel much, therefore we will have  
Some half a dozen friends and make no more ado.  
But what say you to Thursday.  Par: 
My Lord I wish that Thursday were to morrow.  cap. 
Wife go you to your daughter, ere you go to bed.  
Acquaint her with the County Paris love,  
Far well my Lord till Thursday next.  
Wife get you to your daughter. Light to my Chamber.  
Afore me it is so very very late,  
That we may call it early by and by.  Exeunt. Enter Romeo and juliet at the window. Iul: 
Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day▪  
It was the Nightingale and not the Lark  
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear:  
Nightly she sings on yond Pomegranate tree,  
Believe me love, it was the Nightingale.  Rom: 
It was the Lark, the Herald of the Morn,  
And not the Nightingale. See Love what envious strikes  
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder East.  
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund Day  
Stands tiptoes on the misty mountain tops.  
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.  Iul: 
Yond light is not day light, I know it I:  
It is some Meteor that the Sun exhales,  
To be this night to thee a Torchbearer,  
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.  
Then stay a while, thou shalt not go soon.  Rom: 
Let me stay here, let me be ta'en, and die:  
If thou wilt have it so, I am content.  
I'll say yond grey is not the Morning's Eye,  
It is the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow.  
I'll say it is the Nightingale that beats  
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads,  
And not the Lark the Messenger of Morn.  
Come death and welcome, juliet wills it so.  
What says my Love? let's talk, 'tis not yet day.  Iul: 
It is, it is, be gone, fly hence away.  
It is the Lark that sings so out of tune,  
Straining harsh Discords and unpleasing Sharpes.  
Some say, the Lark makes sweet Division:  
This doth not so: for this divideth us.  
Some say the Lark and loathed Toad change eyes,  
I would that now they had changed voices too:  
Since arm from arm her voice doth us affray,  
Hunting thee hence with Huntsup to the day.  
So now be gone, more light and light it grows.  Rom: 
More light and light, more dark and dark our woes.  
Farewell my Love, one kiss and I'll descend.  He goeth down. Iul: 
Art thou gone so, my Lord, my Love, my Friend?  
I must hear from thee every day in the hour:  
For in an hour there are many minutes,  
Minutes are days, so will I number them:  
Oh, by this count I shall be much in years,  
Ere I see thee again.  Rom: 
Farewell, I will omit no opportunity  
That may convey my greetings love to thee.  Iul: 
Oh, thinkest thou we shall ever meet again.  Rom: 
No doubt, no doubt, and all this woe shall serve  
For sweet discourses in the time to come.  Iul: 
Oh God, I have an ill divining soul.  
Me thinks I see thee now thou art below  
Like one dead in the bottom of a Tomb:  
Either mine eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.  Rom: 
And trust me Love, in my eye so do you,  
Dry sorrow drinks out blood: adieu, adieu.  Exit. Enter Nurse hastily. Nurse: 
Madame beware, take heed the day is broke,  
Your Mother's coming to your Chamber, make all sure.  She goeth down from the window. Enter Iuliets Mother, Nurse. Moth: 
Where are you Daughter?  Nurse: 
What Lady, Lamb, what juliet?  Iul: 
How now, who calls?  Nurse: 
It is your Mother.  Moth: 
Why how now juliet?  Iul: 
Madam, I am not well.  Moth: 
What evermore weeping for your Cousin's death:  
I think thou'lt wash him from his grave with tears.  Iul: 
I cannot choose, having so great a loss.  Moth: 
I cannot blame thee.  
But it grieves thee more that Villain lives.  Iul: 
What Villain Madam?  Moth: 
That Villain Romeo.  Iul: 
Villain and he are many miles a sunder.  Moth: 
Content thee Girl, if I could find a man  
I soon would send to Maniva where he is,  
That should bestow on him so sure a draft,  
As he should soon bear Tybalt company.  Iul: 
Find you the means, and I'll find such a man:  
For whilst he lives, my heart shall near be light  
Till I behold him, dead is my poor heart.  
Thus for a Kinsman vexed?  Moth: 
Well let that pass. I come to bring thee joyful news?  Iul: 
And joy comes well in such a needful time.  Moth: 
Well then, thou hast a careful Father girl,  
And one who pitying thy needful state,  
Hath found thee out a happy day of joy.  Iul: 
What day is that I pray you?  Moth: 
Marry my Child,  
The gallant, young and youthful Gentleman,  
The County Paris at Saint Peter's Church,  
Early next Thursday morning must provide,  
To make you there a glad and joyful Bride.  Iul: 
Now by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too,  
He shall not there make me a joyful Bride.  
Are these the news you had to tell me of?  
Marry here are news indeed. Madam I will not marry yet.  
And when I do, it shallbe rather Romeo whom I hate,  
Than County Paris that I cannot love.  Enter old Capolet. Moth: 
Here comes your Father, you may tell him so.  Capo: 
Why how now, evermore showering?  
In one little body thou resemblest a sea, a bark, a storm:  
For this thy body which I term a bark,  
Still floating in thy everfalling tears,  
And tossed with sighs arising from thy heart:  
Will without succour shipwreck presently.  
But hear you Wife, what have you sounded her, what says she to it?  Moth: 
I have, but she will none she thanks ye:  
Would God that she were married to her grave.  Capo: 
What will she not, doth she not thank us, doth she not wax proud?  Iul: 
Not proud ye have, but thankful that ye have:  
Proud can I never be of that I hate,  
But thankful even for hate that is meant love.  Capo: 
Proud and I thank you, and I thank you not,  
And yet not proud. What's here, chop logic.  
Proud me no prouds, nor thank me no thanks,  
But fettle your fine joints on Thursday next  
To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church,  
Or I will drag you on a hurdle thither.  
Out you green sickness baggage, out you tallow face.  In 
Good father hear me speak?  She kneels down. cap. 
I tell thee what, either resolve on thursday next  
To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church:  
Or henceforth never look me in the face.  
Speak not, reply not, for my singer's itch.  
Why wife, we thought that we were scarcely blest  
That God had sent us but this only child:  
But now I see this one is one too much,  
And that we have a cross in having her.  Nurse: 
Marry God in heaven bless her my Lord,  
You are too blame to rate her so.  Cap. 
And why my Lady wisdom? hold your tongue,  
Good prudence smatter with your gossips, go.  Nurse: 
Why my Lord I speak no treason.  cap. 
Oh god god-den.  
Utter your gravity over a gossip's bowl,  
For here we need it not.  Mo: 
My Lord ye are too hot.  cap. 
God's blessed mother wife it mads me;  
Day, night, early, late, at home, abroad,  
Alone, in company, waking or sleeping,  
Still my care hath been to see her matched.  
And having now found out a Gentleman,  
Of Princely parentage, youthful, and nobly trained.  
Stuffed as they say with honourable parts.  
Proportioned as one's heart could wish a man:  
And then to have a wretched whining fool,  
A puling mammet in her fortunes tender,  
To say I cannot love, I am too young, I pray you pardon me?  
But if you cannot wed I'll pardon you.  
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me.  
Look to it, think on't, I do not use to jest.  
I tell ye what, Thursday is near,  
Lay hand on heart, advise, bethink yourself,  
If you be mine, I'll give you to my friend:  
If not, hang, drown, starve, beg,  
die in the streets: for by my Soul  
I'll never more acknowledge thee,  
Nor what I have shall ever do thee good,  
Think on't, look to't, I do not use to jest.  Exit. Iul: 
Is there no pity hanging in the clouds,  
That looks into the bottom of my woes?  
I do beseech you Madam, cast me not away,  
Defer this marriage for a day or two,  
Or if you cannot, make my marriage bed  
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.  Moth: 
Nay be assured I will not speak a word.  
Do what thou wilt for I have done with thee.  Exit. Iul: 
Ah Nurse what comfort? what counsel canst thou give me.  Nurse: 
Now trust me Madam, I know not what to say:  
Your Romeo he is banished, and all the world to nothing  
He never dares return to challenged you.  
Now I think good you marry with this County,  
Oh he is a gallant Gentleman, Romeo is but a dishclout  
In respect of him. I promise you  
I think you happy in this second match.  
As for your husband he is dead:  
Or 'twere as good he were, for you have no use of him.  Iul: 
Speakest thou this from thy heart?  Nurse: 
I and from my soul, or else beshrew them Both  Iul: 
Amen.  Nurse: 
What say you Madam?  Iul: 
Well, thou hast comforted me wondrous much,  
I pray thee go thy ways unto my mother  
Tell her I am gone having displeased my Father.  
To Friar Laurence Cell to confess me,  
And to be absolved▪  Nurse: 
I will, and this is wisely done.  She looks after Nurse. Iul: 
Ancient damnation, O most cursed fiend.  
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,  
Or to dispraise him with the self same tongue  
That thou hast praised him with above compare  
So many thousand times? Go Counsellor,  
Thou and my bosom henceforth shallbe twain.  
I'll to the Friar to know his remedy,  
If all fail else, I have the power to die.  Exit. Enter Friar and Paris. Fr: 
On Thursday say ye: the time is very short,  Par: 
My Father Capolet will have it so,  
And I am nothing slack to slow his haste.  Fr: 
You say you do not know the Lady's mind?  
uneven is the course, I like it not.  Par: 
Immoderately she weeps for Tybalts death,  
And therefore have I little talked of love,  
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears,  
Now Sir, her father thinks it dangerous:  
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway.  
And in his wisdom hasts our marriage,  
To stop the inundation of her tears▪  
Which too much minded by herself alone  
May be put from her by society.  
Now do ye know the reason of this haste.  Fr: 
I would I knew not why it should be slowd.  Enter Paris. 
Hear comes the Lady to my cell,  Par: 
Welcome my love, my Lady and my wife:  In: 
That may be sir, when I may be a wife,  Par: 
That may be, must be love, on thursday next.  In 
What must be shallbe.  Fr: 
That's a certain text.  Par: 
What come ye to confession to this Friar.  In 
To tell you that were to confess to you.  Par: 
Do not deny to him that you love me.  Iul: 
I will confess to you that I love him,  Par: 
So I am sure you will that you love me.  In 
And if I do, it willbe of more price,  
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.  Par: 
Poor soul thy face is much abused with tears.  In 
The tears have got small victory by that,  
For it was bad enough before their spite.  Par: 
Thou wrong'st it more than tears by that report.  In 
That is no wrong sir, that is a truth:  
And what I spoke I spoke it to my face.  Par: 
Thy face is mine and thou hast slandered it.  In 
It may be so, for it is not mine own.  
Are you at leisure holy Father now:  
Or shall I come to you at evening Mass?  Fr: 
My leisure serves me pensive daughter now.  
My Lord we must entreat the time alone.  Par: 
God shield I should disturb devotion,  
juliet farewell, and keep this holy kiss.  Exit Paris▪ In 
Go shut the door and when thou hast done so,  
Come weep with me that am past cure, past help,  Fr: 
Ah juliet I already know thy grief,  
I hear thou must and nothing may prorogue it,  
On Thursday next be married to the County.  Iul: 
Tell me not Friar that thou hearst of it,  
Unless thou tellme me how we may prevent it.  
Give me some sudden counsel: else behold  
Twixt my extremes and me, this bloody Knife  
Shall play the Vmpeere, arbitrating that  
Which the Commission of thy years and art  
Can to no issue of true honour bring.  
Speak not, be brief: for I desire to die,  
If what thou speak'st, speak not of remedy.  Fr: 
Stay juliet, I do spy a kind of hope,  
Which craves as desperate an execution,  
As that is desperate we would prevent.  
If rather than to marry County Paris  
Thou hast the strength or will to slay thyself,  
'tis not unlike that thou wilt undertake  
A thing like death to chide away this shame,  
That coapst with death itself to fly from blame.  
And if thou dost, I'll give thee remedy.  Iul: 
Oh bid me leap (rather than marry Paris)  
From off the battlements of yonder tower:  
Or chain me to some steepy mountains top,  
Where roaring Bears and savage Lions are:  
Or shut me nightly in a Charnell-house,  
With reekie shanks, and yellow chapless skulls:  
Or lay me in tomb with one new dead:  
Things that to hear them named have made me tremble;  
And I will do it without fear or doubt,  
To keep myself a faithful unstained Wife  
To my dear Lord, my dearest Romeo.  Fr: 
Hold juliet, hie thee home, get thee to bed,  
Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy Chamber:  
And when thou art alone, take thou this Viol,  
And this distilled Liquor drink thou off:  
When presently through all thy veins shall run  
A dull and heavy slumber, which shall seize  
Each vital spirit: for no Pulse shall keep  
His natural progress, but surcease to beat:  
No sign of breath shall testify thou liv'sst.  
And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death,  
Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours.  
And when thou art laid in thy Kindred's Vault,  
He send in haste to Mantua to thy Lord,  
And he shall come and take thee from thy grave.  Iul: 
Friar I go, be sure thou send for my dear Romeo.  Exeunt. Enter old Capolet, his Wife, Nurse, and Servingman. Capo: 
Where are you sirrah?  Ser: 
Hear forsooth.  Capo: 
Go, provide me twenty cunning Cooks.  Ser: 
I warrant you Sir, let me alone for that, I'll know them by licking their fingers.  Capo: 
How canst thou know them so?  Ser: 
Ah Sir, 'tis an ill Cook cannot lick his own fingers.  Capo: 
Well get you gone.  Exit Servingman, 
But where's this Headstrong?  Moth: 
she's gone (my Lord) to Friar Laurence Cell  
To be confessed.  Capo: 
Ah, he may hap to do some good of her,  
A headstrong selfewild harlotry it is.  Enter juliet. Moth: 
See here she cometh from Confession,  Capo: 
How now my Headstrong, where have you been gadding?  Iul: 
Where I have learned to repent the sin  
Of froward wilful opposition  
'Gainst you and your behests, and am enjoind  
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,  
And crave remission of so foul a fact.  She kneels down. Moth: 
Why that's well said.  Capo: 
Now before God this holy reverent Friar  
All our whole City is much bound unto.  
Go tell the County presently of this,  
For I will have this knot knit up to morrow.  Iul: 
Nurse, will you go with me to my Closet,  
To sort such things as shall be requisite  
Against to morrow.  Moth: 
I pray thee do, good Nurse go in with her  
Help her to sort Tires, Rebates, Chains,  
And I will come unto you presently,  Nurse: 
Come sweet heart, shall we go▪  Iul: 
I pray thee let us.  Exeunt Nurse and juliet, Moth: 
Me thinks on Thursday would be time enough.  Capo: 
I say I will have this dispatched to morrow,  
Go one and certify the Count thereof.  Moth: 
I pray my Lord, let it be Thursday.  Capo: 
I say to morrow while she's in the mood.  Moth: 
We shall be short in our provision.  Capo: 
Let me alone for that, go get you in,  
Now before God my heart is passing light,  
To see her thus conformed to our will.  Exeunt. Enter Nurse, juliet. Nurse: 
Come, come, what need you any thing else?  Iul: 
Nothing good Nurse, but leave me to myself:  
For I do mean to lie alone to night.  Nurse: 
Well there's a clean smock under your pillow, and so good night.  Exit. Enter Mother. Moth: 
What are you busy, do you need my help?  Iul: 
No Madam, I desire to lie alone,  
For I have many things to think upon.  Moth: 
Well then good night, be stirring juliet,  
The County will be early here to morrow.  Exit. Iul: 
Farewell, God knows when we shall meet again.  
Ah, I do take a fearful thing in hand.  
What if this Potion should not work at all,  
Must I of force be married to the County?  
This shall forbid it. Knife, lie thou there.  
What if the Friar should give me this drink  
To poison me, for fear I should disclose  
Our former marriage? Ah, I wrong him much,  
He is a holy and religious Man:  
I will not entertain so bad a thought,  
What if I should be stifled in the tomb?  
Awake an hour before the appointed time:  
Ah than I fear I shall be lunatic,  
And playing with my dead forefathers bones,  
Dash out my frantic brains. Me thinks I see  
My Cousin Tybalt weltering in his blood,  
Seeking for Romeo: stay Tybalt▪ stay.  
Romeo I come, this do I drink to thee.  She falls upon her bed within the Curtains. Enter Nurse with herbs, Mother. Moth: 
That's well said Nurse, set all in readiness,  
The County will be here immediately.  Enter Oldeman▪ Cap: 
Make haste, make haste, for it is almost day,  
The Curfe we bell hath rung, 'tis four a clock,  
Look to your baked meats good Angelica.  Nurse: 
Go get you to bed you cotquean. I faith you will be sick anon.  cap. 
I warrant thee Nurse I have ere now watched all night, and have taken no harm at all.  Moth: 
I you have been a mouse hunt in your time.  Enter Servingman with Logs & Coals. cap. 
A jealous hood, a jealous hood: How now sirrah?  
What have you there?  Ser: 
Forsooth Logs.  cap. 
Go, go choose drier▪ Will will tell thee where thou shalt▪ fetch them.  Ser: 
Nay I warrant let me alone, I have a head eno' to choose a Log.  Exit. cap. 
Well go thy way, thou shalt be logger head.  
Come, come, make haste call up your daughter,  
The County will be here with music strait.  
God's me he's come, Nurse call up my daughter.  Nur: 
Go, get you gone. What lamb, what Lady bird? fast I warrant. What juliet? well▪ let the County take you in your bed▪ ye sleep for a week now, but the next night, the County Paris hath set up his rest that you shall rest but little. What lamb I say, fast still: what Lady, Love, what bride, what juliet? God's me how sound she sleeps? Nay then I see I must wake you indeed. What's here, laid on your bed, dressed in your clothes and down, ah me, alack the day, some Aqua vitae ho.  Enter Mother. Moth: 
How now what's the matter?  Nurse: 
Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead.  Moth: 
Accursed, unhappy, miserable time.  Enter Oldeman. cap. 
Come, come, make haste, where's my daughter?  Moth: 
Ah she's dead, she's dead.  cap. 
Stay, let me see, all pale and wan.  
Accursed time, unfortunate old man.  Enter Friar and Paris. Par: 
What 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, flower as she is,  
Deflowered by him, see, where she lies,  
Death is my Soon in Law, to him I give all that I have,  Par: 
Have I thought long to see this morning's face,  
And doth it now present such prodigies?  
Accursed, unhappy, miserable man,  
Forlorn, forsaken, destitute I am:  
Borne to the world to be a slave in it.  
Distressed, remediless, and unfortunate.  
O heavens, O nature, wherefore did you make me,  
To live so vile, so wretched as I shall.  cap. 
O here she lies that was our hope, our joy,  
And being dead, dead sorrow nips us all.  Aflat at once cry out and wring their hands▪ All cry: 
And all our joy, and all our hope is dead,  
Dead, lost, undone, absented, wholly fled.  cap. 
Cruel, unjust, impartial destinies,  
Why to this day have you preserved my life?  
To see my hope, my stay, my joy, my life,  
Deprived of sense, of life, of all by death,  
Cruel, unjust, impartial destinies.  cap. 
O sad faced sorrow map of misery,  
Why this sad time have I desired to see.  
This day, this unjust, this impartial day  
Wherein I hoped to see my comfort full,  
To be deprived by sudden destiny.  Moth: 
O woe, alack, distressed, why should I live?  
To see this day, this miserable day.  
Alack the time that ever I was borne.  
To be partaker of this destiny.  
Alack the day, alack and welladay.  Fr: 
O peace for shame, if not for charity.  
Your daughter lives in peace and happiness,  
And it is vain to wish it otherwise.  
Come stick your Rosemary in this dead coarse,  
And as the custom of our Country is,  
In all her best and sumptuous ornaments,  
Convey her where her Ancestors lie tombed,  Cap: 
Let it be so, come woeful sorrow mates,  
Let us together taste this bitter fate.  They all but the Nurse go forth, casting Rosemary on her and shutting the Curtains. Enter Musicians. Nurse: 
Put up, put up, this is a woeful case.  Exit. 1. 
I by my troth Mistress is it, it had need be mended.  Enter servingman. Ser: 
Alack alack what shall I do, come Fiddlers play me some merry dump.  1. 
A sir, this is no time to play.  Ser: 
You will not then?  1. 
No marry will we.  Ser: 
Then will I give it you, and sound to.  1. 
What will you give us?  Ser: 
The fiddler, I'll re you, I'll fa you, I'll sol you.  1. 
If you youre us and fa us, we will note you.  Ser: 
I will put up my Iron dagger, and beat you with my wooden wit. Come on Simon found Pot, I'll pose you,  1. 
Let's hear.  Ser: 
When gripping grief the heart doth wound,  
And doleful dumps the mind oppress:  
Then music with her silver sound,  
Why silver sound? Why silver sound?  1. 
I think because music hath a sweet sound.  Ser: 
Pretty, what say you Matthew minikines?  2. 
I think because Musicians sound for silver.  Ser: 
Pretty too: come, what say you?  3. 
I say nothing.  Ser: 
I think so, I'll speak for you because you are the Singer. I say Silver sound, because such Fellows as you have seldom Gold for sounding. Farewell Fiddlers, farewell.  Exit. 1. 
Farewell and be hanged: come let's go.  Exeunt. Enter Romeo. Rom: 
If I may trust the flattering Eye of Sleep,  
My Dream presagde some good event to come.  
My bosom Lord sits cheerful in his throne,  
And I am comforted with pleasing dreams.  
Me thought I was this night already dead:  
(Strange dreams that give a dead man leave to think)  
And that my Lady juliet came to me,  
And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,  
That I reviude and was an Emperor.  Enter Balthasar his man booted. 
News from Verona. How now Balthasar,  
How doth my Lady? Is my Father well?  
How fares my juliet? that I ask again:  
If she be well, than nothing can be ill.  Balt: 
Then nothing can be ill, for she is well,  
Her body sleeps in Capulets Monument,  
And her immortal parts with Angels dwell.  
Pardon me Sir▪ that am the Messenger of such bad tidings.  Rom: 
Is it even so? then I defy my Stars.  
Go get me ink and paper, hire post horse,  
I will not stay in Mantua to night.  Balt: 
Pardon me Sir▪ I will not leave you thus,  
Your looks are dangerous and full of fear:  
I dare not, nor I will not leave you yet.  Rom: 
Do as I bid thee, get me ink and paper,  
And hire those horse: stay not I say.  Exit Balthasar. 
Well juliet, I will lie with thee to night.  
Let's see for means. As I do remember  
Here dwells a Pothecary whom oft I noted  
As I passed by, whose needy shop is stuffed  
With beggarly accounts of empty boxes:  
And in the same an Aligarta hangs,  
Old ends of packthread, and cakes of Roses,  
Are thinly strewed to make up a show.  
Him as I noted, thus with myself I thought:  
And if a man should need a poison now,  
(Whose present sale is death in Mantua)  
Here he might buy it. This thought of mine  
Did but forerun my need: and here about he dwells.  
Being Holiday the beggars shop is shut.  
What ho Apothecary, come forth I say.  Enter Apothecary. Apo: 
Who calls, what would you sir?  Rom: 
Heeres twenty ducats,  
Give me a dram of some such speeding gear,  
As will dispatch the weary takers life,  
As suddenly as powder being fired  
From forth a Cannon's mouth.  Apo: 
Such drugs I have I must of force confess,  
But yet the law is death to those that sell them.  Rom: 
Art thou so bare and full of poverty▪  
And dost thou fear to violate the Law?  
The Law is not thy friend, nor the laws friend,  
And therefore make no conscience of the law:  
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery,  
And starved Famine dwelleth in thy cheeks.  Apo: 
My poverty but not my will consents,  Rom: 
I pay thy poverty, but not thy will.  Apo: 
Hold take you this, and put it in any liquid thing you will, and it will serve had you the lives of twenty men.  Rom: 
Hold, take this gold, worse poison to men's souls  
Than this which thou hast given me. Go high thee hence,  
Go buy the clothes, and get thee▪ into flesh.  
Come cordial and not poison, go with me  
To Iuliets Grave: for there must I use thee.  Exeunt. Enter Friar john. john: 
What Friar Laurence, Brother, ho?  Laur: 
This same should be the voice of Friar john.  
What news from Mantua, what will Romeo come?  john: 
Going to seek a barefoot Brother out,  
One of our order to associate me,  
Here in this City visiting the sick,  
Whereas the infectious pestilence remained:  
And being by the Searchers of the Town  
Found and examined, we were both shut up.  Laur: 
Who bore my letters then to Romeo?  john: 
I have them still, and here they are.  Laur: 
Now by my holy Order,  
The letters were not nice, but of great weight.  
Go get thee hence, and get me presently.  
A spade and mattock.  john: 
Well I will presently go fetch thee them.  Exit. Laur: 
Now must I to the Monument alone,  
Lest that the Lady should before I come  
Be wakde from sleep. I will high  
To free her from that Tomb of misery.  Exit. Enter County Paris and his Page with flowers and sweet water. Par: 
Put out the torch, and lie thee all along  
Under this Ew-tree, keeping thine ear close to the hollow ground.  
And if thou hear one tread within this Churchyard,  
Straight give me notice.  Boy: 
I will my Lord.  Paris strews the Tomb with flowers. Par: 
Sweet Flower, with flowers I strew thy Bridal bed:  
Sweet Tomb that in thy circuit dost contain,  
The perfect model of eternity:  
Fair juliet that with Angels dost remain,  
Accept this latest favour at my hands,  
That living honoured thee, and being dead  
With funeral praises do adorn thy Tomb.  
Boy whistles and calls. My Lord.  Enter Romeo and Balthasar, with a torch, a a mattock, and a crow of iron. Par: 
The boy gives warning, something doth approach.  
What cursed foot wanders this was to night,  
To stay my obsequies and true loves rites?  
What with a torch, muffle me night a while.  Rom: 
Give me this mattooke, and this wrenching Iron.  
And take these letters▪ early in the morning,  
See thou deliver them to my Lord and Father.  
So get thee gone and trouble me no more.  
Why I descend into this bed of death,  
Is partly to behold my ladys face.  
But chief to take from her dead finger,  
A precious ring which I must use  
In dear employment but if thou wilt stay,  
Further to pry in what I undertake,  
By heaven I'll tear thee joint by joint,  
And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs.  
The time and my intents are savage, wild.  Balt: 
Well, I'll be gone and not trouble you.  Rom: 
So shalt thou win my favour, take thou this,  
Commend me to my Father, farewell good fellow.  Balt: 
Yet for all this will I not part from hence.  Romeo opens the tomb. Rom: 
Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,  
Gorde with the dearest morsel of the earth.  
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open.  Par: 
This is that banished haughty Mountague,  
That murdered my loves cozen, I will apprehend him.  
Stop thy unhallowed toil vile Mountague.  
Can vengeance be pursued further than death?  
I do attach thee as a felon here.  
The Law condemns thee, therefore thou must die,  Rom: 
I must indeed, and therefore came I hither,  
Good youth begone, tempt not a desperate man.  
Heap not another sin upon my head  
By shedding of thy blood, I do protest  
I love thee better than I love myself:  
For I come hither armed against myself,  Par: 
I do defy thy conjurations:  
And do attach thee as a felon here.  Rom: 
What dost thou tempt me, then have at thee boy.  They fight. Boy: 
O Lord they fight, I will go call the watch.  Par: 
Ah I am slain, if thou be merciful  
Open the tomb, lay me with juliet.  Rom: 
I'faith I will, let me peruse this face,  
Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris?  
What said my man, when my betossed soul  
Did not regard him as we passed a long.  
Did he not say Paris should have married  
juliet? either he said so, or I dreamt it so.  
But I will satisfy thy last request,  
For thou hast prized thy love above thy life.  
Death lie thou there, by a dead man interred,  
How oft have many at the hour of death  
been blithe and pleasant? which their keepers call  
A lightning before death But how may I  
Call this a lightning. Ah dear juliet,  
How well thy beauty doth become this grave?  
O I believe that unsubstanciall death,  
Is amorous, and doth court my love.  
Therefore will I, O here, O ever here,  
Set up my everlasting rest  
With worms, that are thy chamber maids.  
Come desperate Pilot now at once run on  
The dashing rocks thy seasick weary barge.  
Heers to my love. O true Apothecary:  
Thy drugs are swift: thus with a kiss I die.  Falls. Enter Friar with a Lantern. 
How oft to night have these my aged feet  
Stumbled at graves as I did pass along.  
Whose there?  Man. 
A friend and one that knows you well.  Fr: 
Who is it that consorts so late the dead,  
What light is yond? if I be not deceived,  
Me thinks it burns in Capulets monument?  Man 
It doth so holy Sir, and there is one  
That loves you dearly.  Fr. 
Who is it?  Man: 
Romeo.  Fr: 
How long hath he been there?  Man: 
Full half an hour and more.  Fr: 
Go with me thither.  Man: 
I dare not sir, he knows not I am here:  
On pain of death he charged me to be gone,  
And not for to disturb him in his enterprise.  Fr: 
Then must I go: my mind presageth ill.  Friar stoops and looks on the blood and weapons. 
What blood is this that stains the entrance  
Of this marble stony monument?  
What means these maisterles and gory weapons▪  
Ah me I doubt, whose here? what Romeo dead?  
Who and Paris too? what unlucky hour  
Is accessary to so foul a sin?  juliet rises. 
The Lady stirs.  
Ah comfortable Friar.  
〈…〉 I should be▪  
And what we talked of: but yet I cannot see  
Him for whose sake I undertook this hazard▪  Fr: 
Lady come forth I hear some noise at hand,  
We shall be taken, Paris▪ he is slain,  
And Romeo dead: and if we here be ta'en  
We shall be thought to be as accessary.  
I will provide for you in some close Nunery.  Iul: 
Ah leave me, leave me, I will not from hence.  Fr: 
I hear some noise, I dare not stay, come, come.  In 
Go get thee gone.  
What's here a cup closed in my lovers hands?  
Ah churl drink all, and leave no drop for me.  Enter watch. Watch: 
This way, this way.  Iul: 
I, noise? then must I be resolute.  
O happy dagger thou shalt end my fear,  
Rest in my bosom, thus I come to thee.  She stabs herself and falls. Enter watch. cap. 
Come look about, what weapons have we here▪  
See friends where juliet two days buried▪  
New bleeding wounded, search and see who's near.  
Attach and bring them to us presently.  Enter one with the Friar. 1. 
Captain heers a Friar with tools about him,  
Fit to open a tomb.  cap. 
A great suspicion, keep him safe▪  Enter one with Romeo's man.. 1. 
here's Romeos man..  Capt: 
Keep him to be examined.  Enter Prince with others. Prin: 
What early mischief calls us up so soon.  Capt: 
O noble Prince, see here  
Where juliet that hath lain intoombd two days,  
Warm and fresh bleeding, Romeo and County Paris  
Likewise newly slain.  Prin: 
Search seek about to find the murderers.  Enter old Capolet and his Wife. Capo: 
What rumors this that is so early up?  Moth: 
The people in the streets cry Romeo,  
And some on juliet: as if they alone  
Had been the cause of such a mutiny.  Capo: 
See Wife, this dagger hath mistook:  
For (lo) the back is empty of young Montague,  
And it is sheathed in our Daughter's breast.  Enter old Montague. Prin: 
Come Montague, for thou art early up,  
To see thy son and heir more early down.  Mount: 
Dread Sovereign, my Wife is dead to night,  
And young Benuolio is deceased too:  
What further mischief can there yet be found?  Prin: 
First come and see, then speak.  Mount: 
O thou untaught, what manners is in this  
To press before thy Father to a grave.  Prin: 
Come seal your mouths of outrage for a while,  
And let us seek to find the Authors out  
Of such a heinous and seld seen mischance.  
Bring forth the parties in suspicion.  Fr: 
I am the greatest able to do least.  
Most worthy Prince, hear me but speak the truth.  
And I'll inform you how these things fell out.  
juliet here slain was married to that Romeo,  
Without her Fathers or her Mother's grant:  
The Nurse was privy to the marriage.  
The baleful day of this unhappy marriage,  
Was Tybalts doomsday: for which Romeo  
Was banished from hence to Mantua.  
He gone, her Father sought by foul constraint  
To marry her to Paris: But her Soul  
(Loathing a second Contract) did refuse  
To give consent; and therefore did she urge me  
Either to find a means she might avoid  
What so her Father sought to force her too  
Or else all desperately she threatened  
Even in my presence to dispatch herself.  
Then did I give her, (tutored by mine art)  
A potion that should make her seem as dead:  
And told her that I would with all post speed  
Send hence to Mantua for her Romeo,  
That he might come and take her from the Tomb,  
But he that had my Letters (Friar john)  
Seeking a Brother to associate him,  
Whereas the sick infection remained,  
Was stayed by the Searchers of the Town▪  
But Romeo understanding by his man,  
That juliet was deceased, returned in post  
Unto Verona for to see his love.  
What after happened touching Paris death,  
Or Romeos is to me unknown at all.  
But when I came to take the Lady hence,  
I found them dead, and she awaked from sleep:  
Whom feign I would have taken from the tomb,  
Which she refused seeing Romeo dead.  
Anon I heard the watch and then I fled,  
What after happened I am ignorant of.  
And if in this ought have miscarried.  
By me, or by my means let my old life  
Be sacrified some hour before his time.  
To the most strickest rigour of the Law.  Prie: 
We still have known thee for a holy man,  
Where's Romeos' man, what can he say in this?  Balth: 
I brought my master word that she was dead,  
And then he posted strait from Mantua,  
Unto this Tomb. These Letters he delivered me,  
Charging me early give them to his Father.  Prin: 
Let's see the Letters, I will read them over.  
Where is the Counties Boy that called the Watch?  Boy: 
I brought my Master unto Iuliets grave,  
But one approaching, strait I called my Master.  
At last they fought, I ran to call the Watch.  
And this is all that I can say or know.  Prin: 
These letters do make good the friars words,  
Come Capolet, and come old Mountagewe.  
Where are these enemies? see what hate hath done▪  Cap: 
Come brother Montague give me thy hand,  
There is my daughter's dowry: for now no more  
Can I bestow on her, that's all I have.  Moun: 
But I will give them more, I will erect  
Her statue of pure gold:  
That while Verona by that name is known.  
There shall no statue of such price be set,  
As that of Romeos loved juliet.  cap. 
As rich shall Romeo by his Lady lie,  
Poor Sacrifices to our Enmity.  Prin: 
A gloomy peace this day doth with it bring.  
Come, let us hence,  
To have more talk of these sad things.  
Some shall be pardoned and some punished:  
For near was heard a Story of more woe,  
Than this of juliet and her Romeo.  
FINIS.