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Thou know'st my lodging; get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.
Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus. Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure.
Tush, thou art deceived;
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?
Bal. No, my good lord.
No matter; get thee gone,
And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.
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 tattered weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuffed, and other skins
Of ill-shaped 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 scattered to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said-
And 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 forerun 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.
Who calls so loud? 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 gear
As will disperse itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead ;
And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
As violently, as hasty powder fired
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.
Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,
And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheeks;
Need and oppression stareth in thy eyes;1
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 despatch you straight.
Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,
Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.
Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh.
Come, cordial, and not poison; go with me
To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee.
SCENE II. Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter FRIAR JOHN.
John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!
1 The quarto of 1597 reads:
"Upon thy back hangs ragged miserie,
And starved famine dwelleth in thy cheeks."
The quartos of 1599 and 1609 :
"Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes.”
Enter FRIAR Laurence.
Lau. This same should be the voice of friar John.-
Welcome from Mantua; what says Romeo?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
John. Going to find a barefoot brother out,
One of our order to associate me,1
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the town,
Suspecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Sealed up the doors, and would not let us forth;
So that my speed to Mantua there was stayed.
Lau. Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?
John. I could not send it,-here it is again,-
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.
Lau. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice, but full of charge,
Of dear import; and the neglecting it
May do much danger. Friar John, go hence;
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.
"Lest that the lady should before I come
Be wak'd from sleepe, I will hye
To free her from that tomb of miserie."
John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.
Lau. Now must I to the monument alone;
Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake.3
She will beshrew me much, that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents;
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come;
Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb! [Exit.
1 Each friar had always a companion assigned him by the superior, when he asked leave to go out.
2 i. e. was not wantonly written on a trivial or idle matter.
3 Instead of this line, and the concluding part of the speech, the first quarto reads only:
SCENE III. A Church-yard; in it a Monument belonging to the Capulets.
Enter PARIS, and his Page, bearing flowers and a torch.
Par. Give me my torch, boy. Hence, and stand aloof;
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the church-yard tread,
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,)
But thou shalt hear it; whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the church-yard; yet I will adventure. [Retires.
Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy bridal
Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain
The perfect model of eternity;
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,1
Accept this latest favor at my hands;
That living honored thee, and, being dead,
With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb!
[The boy whistles. The boy gives warning, something doth approach. What cursed foot wanders this way to-night, To cross my obsequies, and true-love's rites? What, with a torch!-muffle me, night, a while.
1 The folio has these lines :-
"Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew;
O wo! thy canopy is dust and stones,
Which with sweet water nightly I will dew;
Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans
The obsequies that I for thee will keep
Nightly shall be, to strew thy grave and weep.”
In the text, the seven lines are printed as they appear in the quarto of 1597.
Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a torch, mat-
Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching-iron.
Hold, take this letter; early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
Give me the light. Upon thy life, I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'st or see'st, stand all aloof,
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I descend into this bed of death,
Is, partly, to behold my lady's face;
But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger
A precious ring; a ring that I must use
In dear1 employment; therefore hence, be gone;
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further shall intend to do,
By Heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry church-yard with thy limbs.
The time and my intents are savage-wild;
More fierce, and more inexorable far,
Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.
Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship.-Take
Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow.
Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout;
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Retires.
Rom. Thou détestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
[Breaking open the door of the monument.
And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!
Par. This is that banished, haughty Montague,
That murdered my love's cousin ;-with which grief,
It is supposed the fair creature died,
And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him.
1 That is, in action of importance. The sense of the word dear has been explained.