Enter PETER.

Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, Heart's ease, heart's

ease;

O, an you will have me live, play-heart's ease. 370 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.

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.

Mus. What will you give us ?

Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek: I

will give you the minstrel.

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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?

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 drybeat 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 musick with her silver sound,

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Why, silver sound? why, musick with her silver sound?

What

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,

400

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 musick with her silver sound, because such fellows as you have no gold for sounding :

Then musick with her silver sound,

With speedy help doth lend redress. [Exit, singing. 1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same? 410 2 Mus. Hạng him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE I.

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 on 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);

And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips,
That I reviv'd, and was an emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possest,

When but love's shadows are so rich in joy ?

Enter BALTHASAR.

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.
Balth. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body sleeps in Capulet's monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives;
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.

Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper, And hire post horses; I will hence to-night.

10

20

Balth. Pardon me, sir, I dare not leave you thus:
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure.

Rom. Tush, thou art deceiv'd;
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do :

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Hast Hast thou no letters to me from the friar ?

Balth. No, my good lord.

Rom. No matter: Get thee gone,

And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.

[Exit BALTHASAR.

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to night.
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 he dwells, whom late I noted
In tatter'd 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 stuff'd, and other skins
Of ill-shap'd 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 scatter'd, to make up a shew.
Noting this penury, to myself I said-
An 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 fore-run 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!

40

50

Enter

Enter Apothecary.

Ap. Who calls so loud?

60

Rom. Come hither, man. - I see, that thou art

poor;

Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding geer
As will disperse itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead;
And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath

As violently, as hasty powder fir'd

Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's

law

Is death, to any he that utters them.

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Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,

1

And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery;
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.
Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents.
Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
Ap. 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..
Rom. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's
souls,

Doing more murders in this loathsome world,

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Than