Act 4, Scene 5 Romeo and Juliet

NURSE, ⌜approaching the bed⌝ 
 Mistress! What, mistress! Juliet!—Fast, I warrant
 her, she—
 Why, lamb, why, lady! Fie, you slugabed!
 Why, love, I say! Madam! Sweetheart! Why, bride!—
5 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,
10 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,

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ACT 4. SC. 5

 He’ll fright you up, i’ faith.—Will it not be?
⌜She opens the bed’s curtains.⌝
 What, dressed, and in your clothes, and down
15 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 Lady Capulet.⌝

LADY CAPULET 
20 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,
25 Revive, look up, or I will die with thee.
 Help, help! Call help.

Enter ⌜Capulet.⌝

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 
30 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 
35 O lamentable day!

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ACT 4. SC. 5

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 LAWRENCE 
 Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
CAPULET 
40 Ready to go, but never to return.—
 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.
45 My daughter he hath wedded. I will die
 And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death’s.
PARIS 
 Have I thought ⌜long⌝ to see this morning’s face,
 And doth it give me such a sight as this?
LADY CAPULET 
 Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!
50 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 
55 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!
60 O woeful day, O woeful day!
PARIS 
 Beguiled, divorcèd, wrongèd, spited, slain!

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ACT 4. SC. 5

 Most detestable death, by thee beguiled,
 By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown!
 O love! O life! Not life, but love in death!
CAPULET 
65 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,
70 And with my child my joys are burièd.
FRIAR LAWRENCE 
 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.
75 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 you now, seeing she is advanced
80 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.
85 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 
90 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,

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ACT 4. SC. 5

95 Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
 And all things change them to the contrary.
FRIAR LAWRENCE 
 Sir, go you in, and, madam, go with him,
 And go, Sir Paris. Everyone prepare
 To follow this fair corse unto her grave.
100 The heavens do lour upon you for some ill.
 Move them no more by crossing their high will.
⌜All but the Nurse and the Musicians⌝ exit.
⌜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.
⌜FIRST MUSICIAN⌝ 
105 Ay, ⌜by⌝ my troth, the case may be amended.
⌜Nurse⌝ exits.

Enter ⌜Peter.⌝

PETER Musicians, O musicians, “Heart’s ease,”
 “Heart’s ease.” O, an you will have me live, play
 “Heart’s ease.”
⌜FIRST MUSICIAN⌝ Why “Heart’s ease?”
PETER 110O 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 115You 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
120 you the minstrel.
⌜FIRST MUSICIAN⌝ Then will I give you the
 serving-creature.

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ACT 4. SC. 5

PETER Then will I lay the serving-creature’s dagger on
 your pate. I will carry no crochets. I’ll re you, I’ll fa
125 you. Do you note me?
⌜FIRST MUSICIAN⌝ An you re us and fa us, you note us.
SECOND ⌜MUSICIAN⌝ Pray you, put up your dagger and
 put out your wit.
⌜PETER⌝ Then have at you with my wit. I will dry-beat
130 you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger.
 Answer me like men.
⌜Sings.⌝ When griping griefs the heart doth wound
 ⌜And doleful dumps the mind oppress,⌝
 Then music with her silver sound—
135 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 Prates.—What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
SECOND ⌜MUSICIAN⌝ 140I say “silver sound” because musicians
 sound for silver.
PETER Prates 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
145 for you. It is “music with her silver sound” because
 musicians have no gold for sounding:
⌜Sings.⌝ Then music with her silver sound
 With speedy help doth lend redress.
He exits.
⌜FIRST MUSICIAN⌝ What a pestilent knave is this same!
SECOND ⌜MUSICIAN⌝ 150Hang him, Jack. Come, we’ll in
 here, tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.
⌜They⌝ exit.

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