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What is there? Now, fellow, |
Fellow. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. |
Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit Fellow.] Sirrah, fetch drier |
logs. |
Call Peter; he will show thee where they are. |
Fellow. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs |
And never trouble Peter for the matter. |
Cap. Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha! |
Thou shalt be loggerhead. [Exit Fellow.] Good faith, 'tis day. |
The County will be here with music straight, |
For so he said he would. Play music. |
I hear him near. |
Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say! |
Enter Nurse. |
Go waken Juliet; go and trim her up. |
I'll go and chat with Paris. Hie, make haste, |
Make haste! The bridegroom he is come already: |
Make haste, I say. |
[Exeunt.] |
Scene V. |
Juliet's chamber. |
[Enter Nurse.] |
Nurse. Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! Fast, I warrant her, she. |
Why, lamb! why, lady! Fie, you slug-abed! |
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, dress'd, and in your clothes, and down again? |
I must needs wake you. Lady! lady! lady! |
Alas, alas! Help, help! My lady's dead! |
O weraday that ever I was born! |
Some aqua-vitae, ho! My lord! my lady! |
Enter Mother. |
Mother. What noise is here? |
Nurse. O lamentable day! |
Mother. What is the matter? |
Nurse. Look, look! O heavy day! |
Mother. O me, O me! My child, my only life! |
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! |
Help, help! Call help. |
Enter Father. |
Father. For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come. |
Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd; she's dead! Alack the day! |
Mother. Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! |
Cap. 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! |
Mother. O woful time! |
Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, |
Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak. |
Enter Friar [Laurence] and the County [Paris], with Musicians. |
Friar. Come, 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 wife. See, there she lies, |
Flower as she was, deflowered 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. |
Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face, |
And doth it give me such a sight as this? |
Mother. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! |
Most miserable hour that e'er time saw |
In lasting labour of his pilgrimage! |
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, |
But one thing to rejoice and solace in, |
And cruel Death hath catch'd it from my sight! |
Nurse. O woe? O woful, woful, woful day! |
Most lamentable day, most woful 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 woful day! O woful day! |
Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! |
Most detestable Death, by thee beguil'd, |
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! |
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