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fay for you. It is-mufick with her filver found, because fuch fellows as you have feldom gold for founding :

J.

Then mufick with her filver found,

With Speedy help doth lend redress.

[Exit, finging.

Muf. What a peftilent knave is this fame?

2. Muf. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.

[Exeunt.

ACT

ACT V. SCENE I.

Mantua. A Street.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep,
My dreams prefage fome joyful news at hand :
My bofom's lord fits lightly in 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 fuch life with kiffes in my lips,
That I reviv'd, and was an emperor.

Ah me! how fweet is love itself poffefs'd,
When but love's fhadows are so rich in joy?

Enter BALTHASAR,

News from Verona!-How now, Balthafar?
Doft 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 the be well.

Bal. Then he is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body fleeps in Capels' monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives;
1 faw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
And prefently took post to tell it you :
O pardon me for bringing these ill news,
Since you did leave it for my office, fir.

Rom. Is it even fo? then I defy you, ftars!

Thou

Thou know'ft my lodging: get me ink and paper,
And hire poft-horfes; I will hence to-night.

Bal, Pardon me, fir, I will not leave you thus:
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some mifadventure.

Rom.

Tufh, thou art deceiv'd;

Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do:
Haft thou no letters to me from the friar?

Bal. No, my good lord.

Rom. No matter: Get thee gone, And hire thofe horfes; I'll be with thee ftraight.

[Exit BALTHASAR,

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to night.
Let's fee for means:-O, mifchief! 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 fimples; meager were his looks,
Sharp mifery had worn him to the bones:
And in his needy fhop a tortoife hung,
An alligator ftuff'd, and other skins
Of ill-fhap'd fishes; and about his fhelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,

Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty feeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myfe:f I faid-
An if a man did need a poifon now,
Whofe fale is prefent death in Mantua,
Here lives a caiti:f wretch would fell it him.
O, this fame thought did but fore-run my need;
And this fame needy man must fell it me.
As I remember, this fhould be the house :

Being

Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.-
What, ho! apothecary!

Ap.

Enter Apothecary.

Who calls fo loud?

Rom. Come hither, man.-I fee, that thou art poor; Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have A dram of poifon; fuch foon-fpeeding geer As will difperfe 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 hafty 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.

Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,
And fear'ft to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppreffion ftarveth in thy eyes,
Upon thy back hangs ragged mifery,

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, confents.
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 defpatch you straight.

Rom. There is thy gold; worse poifon to men's fouls, Doing more murders in this loath fome world,

Than these poor compounds that thou may`st not sell :
I fell thee poifon, thou haft fold me none.
Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh.—
Come, cordial, and not poifon; go with me
To Juliet's grave, for there muft I use thee.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE II,

Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter Friar JOHN.

John. Holy Francifcan friar! brother, ho!

Enter Friar LAURENCE.

Lau. This fame fhould be the voice of friar John.Welcome from Mantua: What fays Romeo?

Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.

John. Going to find a bare-foot brother out,
One of our order, to affociate me,
Here in this city visiting the fick,

And finding him, the fearchers of the town,
Suspecting, that we both were in a house
Where the infectious peftilence did reign,
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth
So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.
Lau. Who bare my letter then to Romeo?
John. I could not fend it,-here it is again,-
Nor get a meffenger 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.

John. Brother, I'll go and bring 't thee.
Lau. Now must I to the monument alone;
Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake
She will befhrew me much, that Romeo

[Exit.

Hath

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