Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain ! By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! O love! O life!-not life, but love in death! Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd !— Uncomfortable time! why cam'st thou now To murder murder our solemnity? O child! O child!-my soul, and not my child !--- Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not In these confusions. Heaven and yourself Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all, And all the better is it for the maid: Your part in her you could not keep from death; That you run mad, seeing that she is well: Cap. All things, that we ordained festival, Turn from their office to black funeral: Our instruments, to melancholy bells; Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast; Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change; Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, And all things change them to the contrary. Fri. Sir, go you in,-and, madam, go with him;And go, sir Paris;-every one prepare To follow this fair corse unto her grave: The heavens do low'r upon you, for some ill; Move them no more, by crossing their high will. [Exeunt CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, Paris, and Friar. 1 Mus. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone. Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up; For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. [Exit Nurse. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. Enter PETER. Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, Heart's case, heart's case; O, an you will have me live, play-heart's ease. 1 Mus. Why heart's ease? Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself playsMy heart is full of woe: O, play me some merry dump, to comfort me. 2 Mus. Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. Pet. You will not then? Mus. No. Pet. I will then give it you soundly. 1 Mus. What will you give us? Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek: I will give you the minstrel. 1 Mus. Then will I give you the serving-creature. Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, I'll fa you; Do you note me? 1 Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 2 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit. Pet. Then have at you with my wit; I will dry-beat you with an iron-wit, and put up my iron dagger :Answer me like men: When griping grief the heart doth wound, Why, silver sound? why, music with her silver sound? What say you, Simon Catling? 1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck? 2 Mus. I say-silver sound, because musicians sound for silver. Pet. Pretty too!-What say you, James Soundpost? 3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say. Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer: I will say for you. It is-music with her silver sound, because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding: Then music, with her silver sound, With speedy help doth lend redress. [Exit, singing. 1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same? 2 Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I.-Mantua. A Street. Enter ROMEO. Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand : My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne; And, all this day, an unaccustom'd 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,) Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, Enter BALTHASAR. News from Verona !-How now, Balthasar? Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill; |