Romeo and Juliet
Page 18
I’ll go and chat with Paris. Hie, make haste,
Make haste! The bridegroom he is come already:
Make haste, I say. [Exit.]
[Scene 5. Juliet’s chamber.]
Nurse.° Mistress! What, mistress! Juliet! Fast,° I war-
rant her, she.
Why, lamb! Why, lady! Fie, you slugabed.°
Why, love, I say! Madam; Sweetheart! Why, bride!
What, not a word? You take your pennyworths°
now;
Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,
The County Paris hath set up his rest°
That you shall rest but little. God forgive me!
Marry, and amen. How sound is she asleep!
I needs must wake her. Madam, madam, madam!
Ay, let the County take you in your bed;
He’ll fright you up, i’ faith. Will it not be?
[Draws aside the curtains.]
What, dressed, and in your clothes, and down°
again?
I must needs wake you. Lady! Lady! Lady!
Alas, alas! Help, help! My lady’s dead!
4.5.1 Nurse (at the conclusion of the last scene the nurse presumably did not go offstage but remained on the forestage, and after Capulet’s departure she now walks to the rear to open the curtains, revealing Juliet) 1 Fast fast asleep 2 slugabed sleepyhead 4 pennyworths small portions (i.e., short naps) 6 set up his rest firmly resolved (with bawdy suggestion of having a lance in readiness) 12 down gone back to bed
O weraday° that ever I was born!
Some aqua vitae,° ho! My lord! My lady!
[Enter Mother.]
Lady Capulet. What noise is here?
Nurse. O lamentable day!
Lady Capulet. What is the matter?
Nurse. Look, look! O heavy day!
Lady Capulet. O me, O me! My child, my only life!
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!
Help, help! Call help.
Enter Father.
Capulet. For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is
come.
Nurse. She’s dead, deceased; she’s dead, alack the day!
Lady Capulet. Alack the day, she’s dead, she’s dead,
she’s dead!
Capulet. Ha! Let me see her. Out alas! She’s cold,
Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;
Life and these lips have long been separated.
Death lies on her like an untimely frost.
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
Nurse. O lamentable day!
Lady Capulet. O woeful time!
Capulet. Death, that hath ta’en her hence to make me
wail,
Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak.
Enter Friar [Lawrence] and the County [Paris,
with Musicians].
Friar. Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
Capulet. Ready to go, but never to return.
15 weraday welladay, alas 16 aqua vitae spirits
O son, the night before thy wedding day
Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies,
Flower as she was, deflowerèd by him.
Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir;
My daughter he hath wedded. I will die
And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death’s.
Paris. Have I thought, love, to see this morning’s face,
And doth it give me such a sight as this?
Lady Capulet. Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful
day!
Most miserable hour that e’er time saw
In lasting labor of his pilgrimage!
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
And cruel Death hath catched it from my sight.
Nurse. O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!
Most lamentable day, most woeful day
That ever ever I did yet behold!
O day, O day, O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this.
O woeful day! O woeful day!
Paris. Beguiled, divorcèd, wrongèd, spited, slain!
Most detestable Death, by thee beguiled,
By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown.
O love! O life!—not life, but love in death!
Capulet. Despised, distressèd, hated, martyred, killed!
Uncomfortable° time, why cam’st thou now
To murder, murder our solemnity?
O child, O child! My soul, and not my child!
Dead art thou—alack, my child is dead,
And with my child my joys are burièd!
Friar. Peace, ho, for shame! Confusion’s cure lives not
In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid—now heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid.
60 Uncomfortable discomforting
Your part in her you could not keep from death,
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was her promotion,
For ’twas your heaven she should be advanced;
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, in this love, you love your child so ill
That you run mad, seeing that she is well.°
She’s not well married that lives married long,
But she’s best married that dies married young.
Dry up your tears and stick your rosemary°
On this fair corse, and, as the custom is,
And in her best array bear her to church;
For though fond nature° bids us all lament,
Yet nature’s tears are reason’s merriment.
Capulet. All things that we ordainèd festival
Turn from their office to black funeral—
Our instruments to melancholy bells,
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse;
And all things change them to the contrary.
Friar. Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him;
And go, Sir Paris. Everyone prepare
To follow this fair corse unto her grave.
The heavens do low’r° upon you for some ill;
Move them no more by crossing their high will.
Exeunt [casting rosemary on her and shutting the curtains].
Manet° [the Nurse with Musicians].
First Musician. Faith, we may put up our pipes and
be gone.
Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up!
For well you know this is a pitiful case.° [Exit.]
76 well i.e., in blessed condition, in heaven 79 rosemary an evergreen, signifying remembrance 82 fond nature foolish human nature 94 low’r frown 95 s.d. Manet remains (Latin) 99 case (1) situation (2) instrument case
First Musician. Ay, by my troth, the case may be
amended.
Enter [Peter].
Peter. Musicians, O, musicians, “Heart’s ease,”
“Heart’s ease”! O, and you will have me live, play
“Heart’s ease.”
First Musician. Why “Heart’s ease”?
Peter. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays
“My heart is full.” O, play me some merry dump°
to comfort me.
First Musician. Not a dump we! ’Tis no time to play
now.
Peter. You will not then?
First Musician. No.
Peter. I will then give it you soundly.
First Musician. What will you give us?
Peter. No money, on my faith, but the gleek.° I will give you° the minstrel.
First Musician. Then will I give you the serving-creature.
Peter. Then will I lay th
e serving-creature’s dagger
on your pate. I will carry° no crotchets.° I’ll re
you, I’ll fa° you. Do you note° me?
First Musician. And you re us and fa us, you note
us.°
Second Musician. Pray you put up your dagger, and
put out° your wit. Then have at you with my wit!
107 dump sad tune 115 gleek gibe 116 give you call you 120 carry endure 120 crotchets (1) whims (2) quarter notes 120-21 re . . . fa (musical notes, but used perhaps with puns on “ray,” or “bewray” [“befoul”], and “fay” [“polish”]; see H. Kökeritz, Shakespeare’s Pronunciation, pp. 105-06) 121 note understand 122-23 note us set us to music 125 put out set out, display
Peter. I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put
up my iron dagger. Answer me like men.
“When griping grief the heart doth wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
Then music with her silver sound”°—
Why “silver sound”? Why “music with her silver sound”? What say you, Simon Catling?°
First Musician. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet
sound.
Peter. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?°
Second Musician. I say “silver sound” because mu-
sicians sound for silver.
Peter. Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost?°
Third Musician. Faith, I know not what to say.
Peter. O, I cry you mercy,° you are the singer. I will
say for you. It is “music with her silver sound” be-
cause musicians have no gold for sounding.
“Then music with her silver sound
With speedy help doth lend redress.” Exit.
First Musician. What a pestilent knave is this same!
Second Musician. Hang him, Jack! Come, we’ll in here,
tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.
Exit [with others].
128-30 When . . . sound (the song is from Richard Edwards’ “In Commendation of Music,” in The Paradise of Dainty Devices, 1576) 132 Catling catgut, a lute string 135 Rebeck a three-stringed fiddle 138 Soundpost peg that gives internal support to a violin 140 cry you mercy beg your pardon
[ACT 5
Scene 1. Mantua. A street.]
Enter Romeo.
Romeo. If I may trust the flattering° truth of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.
My bosom’s lord° sits lightly in his throne,
And all this day an unaccustomed spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead
(Strange dream that gives a dead man leave to think!)
And breathed such life with kisses in my lips
That I revived and was an emperor.
Ah me! How sweet is love itself possessed,
When but love’s shadows° are so rich in joy!
Enter Romeo’s Man [Balthasar, booted].
News from Verona! How now, Balthasar?
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father well?
How fares my Juliet? That I ask again,
For nothing can be ill if she be well.
Man. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.
Her body sleeps in Capel’s monument,°
And her immortal part with angels lives.
5.1.1 flattering illusory 3 bosom’s lord i.e., heart 11 shadows dreams 18 monument tomb
I saw her laid low in her kindred’s vault
And presently took post° to tell it you.
O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,
Since you did leave it for my office,° sir.
Romeo. Is it e’en so? Then I defy you, stars!
Thou knowest my lodging. Get me ink and paper
And hire post horses. I will hence tonight.
Man. I do beseech you, sir, have patience.
Your looks are pale and wild and do import°
Some misadventure.
Romeo. Tush, thou art deceived.
Leave me and do the thing I bid thee do.
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?
Man. No, my good lord.
Romeo. No matter. Get thee gone.
And hire those horses. I’ll be with thee straight.
Exit [Balthasar].
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee tonight.
Let’s see for means. O mischief, thou art swift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
I do remember an apothecary,
And hereabouts ’a dwells, which late I noted
In tatt’red weeds,° with overwhelming° brows,
Culling of simples.° Meager were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuffed, and other skins
Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account° of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses°
Were thinly scatterèd, to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said,
21 post post horses 23 office duty 28 import suggest 39 weeds clothes 39 overwhelming overhanging 40 Culling of simples collecting medicinal herbs 45 account number 47 cakes of roses pressed rose petals (for perfume)
“And if a man did need a poison now
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff° wretch would sell it him.”
O, this same thought did but forerun my need,
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house.
Being holiday, the beggar’s shop is shut.
What, ho! Apothecary!
[Enter Apothecary.]
Apothecary. Who calls so loud?
Romeo. Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor.
Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have
A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear°
As will disperse itself through all the veins
That the life-weary taker may fall dead,
And that the trunk° may be discharged of breath
As violently as hasty powder fired
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon’s womb.
Apothecary. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua’s
law
Is death to any he that utters° them.
Romeo. Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness
And fearest to die? Famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth° in thy eyes,
Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back:
The world is not thy friend, nor the world’s law;
The world affords no law to make thee rich;
Then be not poor, but break it and take this.
Apothecary. My poverty but not my will consents.
Romeo. I pay thy poverty and not thy will.
Apothecary. Put this in any liquid thing you will
And drink it off, and if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.
52 caitiff miserable 60 soon-speeding gear fast-working stuff 63 trunk body 67 utters dispenses 70 starveth stand starving
Romeo. There is thy gold—worse poison to men’s
souls,
Doing more murder in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not
sell.
I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.
Farewell. Buy food and get thyself in flesh.
Come, cordial° and not poison, go with me
To Juliet’s grave; for there must I use thee.
Exeunt.
[Scene 2. Friar Lawrence’s cell.]
Enter Friar John to Friar Lawrence.<
br />
John. Holy Franciscan father, brother, ho!
Enter [Friar] Lawrence.
Lawrence. This same should be the voice of Friar John.
Welcome from Mantua. What says Romeo?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
John. Going to find a barefoot brother out,
One of our order, to associate° me
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers° of the town,
Suspecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Sealed up the doors, and would not let us forth,
So that my speed to Mantua there was stayed.
Lawrence. Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?
John. I could not send it—here it is again—
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.
85 cordial restorative 5.2.6 associate accompany 8 searchers health officers
Lawrence. Unhappy fortune! By my brotherhood,°
The letter was not nice,° but full of charge,°
Of dear import; and the neglecting it
May do much danger. Friar John, go hence,
Get me an iron crow° and bring it straight
Unto my cell.
John. Brother, I’ll go and bring it thee. Exit.
Lawrence. Now must I to the monument alone.
Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake.
She will beshrew° me much that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents;°
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come—
Poor living corse, closed in a dead man’s tomb! Exit.
[Scene 3. A churchyard; in it a monument belonging to the Capulets.]
Enter Paris and his Page [with flowers and sweet water].
Paris. Give me thy torch, boy. Hence, and stand aloof.
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yond yew trees lay thee all along,°
Holding thy ear close to the hollow ground.
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves)
But thou shalt hear it. Whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hearest something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
Page. [Aside] I am almost afraid to stand alone