My heart is full of woe: O, play me some merry dump, to comfort me. 2 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. 1 Mus. What will you give us? Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek: I will give you the minstrel. 1 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? 1 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 dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger :Answer me like men: When griping grief the heart doth wound, Then music, with her silver sound; Why, silver sound? why, music with her silver sound? 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. Pet. Pretty too!-What say you, James Sound-post? 3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say. Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer: I will say for you. Itis-music with her silver sound, because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding :Then music with her silver sound, With speedy help doth lend redress. [Exit, singing. 1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same? 2 Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt. Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, (Strange dream! that gives a dead man leave to think); News from Verona!-How now, Balthazar? Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill; Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!— Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will 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: Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? Bal. No, my good lord. Rom. No matter: get thee gone, And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight. [Exit Balthazar. And hereabouts he dwells,-whom late I noted Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, And this same needy man must sell it me. Ap.. Enter 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 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 Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness, The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law: Rom. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls, To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee. [Exeunt. SCENE 11. FRIAR LAURENCE'S Cell. Enter FRIAR JOHN. John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! 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, Here in this city visiting the sick, Aud finding him, the searchers of the town, Lau. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood, John. Brother, I'll go and bring't thee. And keep her at my cell till Romeo come: [Exit. Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! [Exit. |