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Cap. Stay, let me fee, all pale and wan. Accurfed time, vnfortunate olde man.

Enter Fryer and Paris.

Par. What is the bride ready to goe to church?
Cap. Ready to goe, but neuer to returne.
O fonne the night before thy wedding day,
Hath death laine with thy bride, flower as fhe is,
Deflowerd by him, fee, where she lyes,

Death is my fonne in law, to him I giue all that I haue.
Par. Haue I thought long to fee this mornings face,
And doth it now prefent fuch prodegies?

Accurft, vnhappy, miserable man,

Forlorne, forfaken, deftitute I am :

Borne to the world to be a flaue in it.
Distrest, remediles, and vnfortunate.

O heauens, O nature, wherefore did you make me,
To liue fo vile, fo wretched as I fhall.

Cap. O heere she lies that was our hope, our ioy,
And being dead, dead forrow nips vs all.

All at once cry out and wring their hands.

All cry. And all our ioy, and all our hope is dead, Dead, loft, undone, abfented, wholly fled.

Cap. Cruel, vniuft, impartiall destinies, Why to this day haue you preferu'd my life? To fee my hope, my ftay, my ioy, my life, Depriude of fence, of life, of all by death, Cruell, vniuft, impartiall deftinies.

Cap. O fad fac'd forrow map of mifery, Why this fad time haue I defird to fee. This day, this vniuft, this impartiall day Wherein I hop'd to fee my comfort full, To be depriude by fuddaine deftinie.

Math.

Moth. O woe, alacke, distrest, why should I liue?
To fee this day, this miferable day.

Alacke the time that euer I was borne.
To be partaker of this deftinie.

Alacke the day, alacke and welladay,

Fr. O peace for fhame, if not for charity.
Your daughter liues in peace and happines,
And it is vaine to wifh it otherwise.

Come sticke your rosemary in this dead coarse,
And as the custome of our country is,

In all her beft and sumptuous ornaments,
Conuay her where her ancestors lie tomb'd.

Cap. Let it be fo, come wofull forrow mates,

Let vs together taste this bitter fate.

They all but the nurse goe foorth, cafting rosemary on her and fbutting the curtens.

Enter Mufitions.

Nur. Put vp, put vp, this is a wofull cafe.

Exit.

1. I by my troth mistreffe is it, it had need be mended.

Enter feruingman.

Ser. Alack alack what fhal I doe, come fidlers play me fome

mery dumpe.

1. A fir, this is no time to play.

Ser. You will not then?

1. No marry will wee.

Ser. Then will I giue it you, and foundly to.

1. What will you giue vs ?

Ser. The fidler, Ile re you, Ile fa you, Ile fol you. 1. If you re vs and fa vs, we will note you. Ser. I will put vp my iron dagger, and beate you wodden wit. Come on Simon found pot, Ile pose you.

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with

my

.1. Lets

1. Lets heare.

Ser. When griping griefe the heart doth wound,
And dolefull dumps the minde oppresse :
Then mufique with her filuer found,
Why filuer found? Why filuer found?

1. I thinke because musicke hath a sweet found.
Ser. Pretie, what fay you Mathew minikine
2. I thinke because mufitions found for filuer
Ser. Prettie too come, what fay you?
3. I fay nothing.

Ser. I thinke fo, Ile speake for you because you are the finger. I faye filuer found, because fuch fellowes as you haue fildome golde for founding. Farewell fidlers, farewell. Exit. 1. Farewell and be hangd: come lets goe.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. If I may truft the flattering eye of fleepe,
My dreame prefagde fome good euent to come,
My bofome lord fits chearfull in his throne,
And I am comforted with pleasing dreames.
Methought I was this night alreadie dead:

Exeunt.

(Strange dreames that giue a dead man leaue to thinke) And that my ladie Iuliet came to me,

And breathd fuch life with kiffes in my lips,

That I reuiude and was an emperour.

Enter Balthafar his man booted.

Newes from Verona. How now Balthafar,
How doth my ladie? Is my father well?
How fares my Juliet ? that I afke againe :
If she be well, then nothing can be ill.

Balt. Then nothing can be ill, for she is well,
Her bodie fleepes in Capels monument,

And

And her immortall parts with angels dwell.

Pardon me fir, that am the messenger of fuch bad tidings.
Rom. Is it euen fo? then I defie my ftarres.

Goe get me incke and paper, hyre post horse,
I will not stay in Mantua to night.

Balt. Pardon me fir, I will not leave you thus,
Your lookes are dangerous and full of feare:
I dare not, nor I will not leaue you yet.

Rom. Doo as I bid thee, get me incke and paper,
And hyre those horfe: ftay not I fay.

Well Iuliet, I will lye with thee to night.
Lets fee for meanes. As I doo remember
Here dwells a pothecarie whom oft I noted
As I paft by, whofe needie shop is stufft
With beggerly accounts of emptie boxes:
And in the fame an Aligarta hangs,

Olde endes of packthred, and cakes of roses,
Are thinly strewed to make vp a show.
Him as I noted, thus with my felfe I thought:
And if a man should need a poyfon now,
(Whose present fale is death in Mantua)

Here he might buy it. This thought of mine

Exit Balthafar.

Did but forerunne my need: and here about he dwels.

Being holiday the beggers fhop is shut.

What ho apothecarie, come forth I fay.

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Giue me a dram of fome fuch speeding geere,

As will difpatch the wearie takers life,

As fuddenly as powder being fierd

From forth a cannons mouth.

Apo. Such drugs I haue I muft- of force confeffe,
But yet the law is death to those that fell them.
Rom. Art thou fo bare and full of pouertie,
And dooft thou feare to violate the law?
The law is not thy frend, nor the lawes frend,
And therefore make no confcience of the law:
Vpon thy backe hangs ragged miferie,

And starued famine dwelleth in thy cheekes.
Apo. My pouertie but not my will confents.
Rom. I pay thy pouertie, but not thy will.

Apo. Hold take you this, and put it in anie liquid thing
you will, and it will ferue had you the liues of twenty men.
Rom. Hold, take this gold, worfe poyson to mens foules
Than this which thou haft giuen me. Goe hye thee hence,
Goe buy the cloathes, and get thee into flesh.
Come cordiall and not poyson, goe with mee
To Juliets graue: for there mvit I vfe thee.

Enter Frier Iohn.

John. What frier Laurence, brother, ho?

Laur. This fame fhould be the voyce of frier Iohn.
What newes from Mantua, what will Romeo come?
Ichn. Going to feeke a barefoote brother out,
One of our order to affociate mee,

Here in this cittie vifiting the fick,

Whereas the infectious peftilence remaind.:
And being by the fearchers of the towne
Found and examinde, we were both shut vp,
Laur. Who bare my letters then to Romeo?
Iohn. I haue them ftill, and here they are.
Laur. Now by my holy order,

The letters were not nice, but of great weight.

Exeunt.

Goe

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