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O'Thursday let it be; – o'Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl:-
Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
We'll keep no great ado; — a friend, or two:-
For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held it carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much :
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
Par.My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.
Cap. Well, get you gone!—O'Thursday be it then!—
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.—
Farewell, my lord!—Light to my chamber, hol
Afore me, it is so very late, that we
May call it early by and by. —Good night! [Exeunt.
SCENE W. — Juliet's chamber.
Enter Romeo and Juliet.
Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops;
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:
It is some meteor, that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this might a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.
Iron. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care to stay, than will to go;-
Come, death, welcome! Juliet wills it so.-
How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.
Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away!
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
Some say, the lark makes sweet division;
This doth not so, for she divideth us :
Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
O, now I would they had chang'd voices too !
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence, with hunts-up to the day.
O, now be gone more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light?– more dark and dark
Jul. Nurse ?
Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your chamber:
The day is broke; be wary, look about! [Exit Nurse.
Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out!
Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I’ll descend!
Jul. Art thou gone so? my love! my lord my friend!
I must hear from thee every day i'the hour,
For in a minute there are many days!
O! by this count I shall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo.
Rom. Farewell ! I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again?
Itom. I doubt it not; aud all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
Jul... O God! I have an ill-divining soul:
Methinks, I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you:
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu"
Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call theefickle:
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him,
That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune!
For then I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.
La Cap. [JPithin..] Ho, daughter! are you up?
Jul. Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?
Is she not down so late, or up so early?
What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
Enter Lady CAPULET.
La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet?
. Jul. Madam, I am not well.
La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
An if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him live;
Therefore,have dome! Some grief shows much of love;
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss
La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend,
Which you weep for.
Jul. Feeling so the loss,
I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
La., Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for
As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.
Jul. What villain, madam?
La. Cap. That same villain, Romeo.
Jul. Willain and he are many miles asunder.
God pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
And yet, no man, like he, doth grieve my heart.
La. Cap. That is, because the traitor murderer lives.
Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands.
'Would, none but I might venge my cousin's death !
La.Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not!
Then weep no more! I’ll send to one in Mantua,-
Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, –
That shall bestow on him so sure a draught,
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.
Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him — dead—
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd:—
Madam, if you could but find out a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it;
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet.-O, how my heart abhors
To hear him nam’d, - and cannot come to him,
To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt
Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him :
La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find such
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl!
Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time:
What are they, I beseech your ladyship?
La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father,
One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,
That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for.
Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The county Paris, at Saint Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this haste; that I must wed
Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris. – These are news indeed!
La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him so
And see how he will take it at your hands.
Enter CAPULET and Nurse.
Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;
But for the sunset of my brother's son,
It rains downright. —
How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
Evermore showering? in one little body
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind:
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
Who, -raging with thy tears, and they with them,--|O, sweet my mother, cast me not away!
Without a sudden calm, will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body. —How now, wife?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?
thanks. I would, the fool were married to her grave :
Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife! My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
How ! will she mone? doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud 2 doth she not count her bless'd, Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have: Proud can I never be of what I hate; But thankful even for hate, that is meant love. Cap. ow now ! how now, chop-logic What is this Proud, -–and, I thank you, - and, I thank you not;And yet not proud. — Mistress minion, you, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next, To do with Paris to Saint Peter's church, Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion' out, boy baggage! You tallow-face La. Cap. Fye, sye! what, are you mad? Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word Cap. Hang thee,young baggage! disobedient wretch! I tell thee what, — get thee to church o'Thursday, Or never after look me in the face' Speak not, reply not, do not auswer me! My fingers itch. —Wife, we scarce thought us bless'd, That God had sent us but this only child; But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a curse in having her: Out on her, hilding ! Nurse. God in heaven bless her! You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. Cap. And why, my lady wisdom 2 hold your tongue, Good prudence smatter with your gossips, go Nurse. I speak no treason. Cap. O, God ye good den! Nurse. May not one speak 2 Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool! Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl, For here we need it not. La. Cap. You are too hot. cap. God's bread! it makes me mad! Day, night, late, early, At home, abroad, alone, in company, waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been
To have her match'd; and having now provided
A gentleman of princely parentage,
Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
Stuff'd (as they say) with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's heart could wish a man,—
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
To answer — I'll not wed, – I cannot lowe,
I am too young, — I pray you, pardon me!–
But, an you will not wed, I’ll pardon you.
Graze where you will, you shall not house withm:
Look to"t, think on't, I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near;lay hand on heart, advise!
An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i'the street,
For, by my soul, I’ll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good!
Trust to't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn. [Ent
Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?
Delay this marriage for a month, a week; Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument, where Tybalt lies.
How shall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth?— comfort me, counselmo-
Alack, alack, that heaven should practisestral”
Upon so soft a subject as myself!- -
What says: thou? hast thou not a word of o'
Some comfort, nurse!
Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo
Is banished; and all the world to nothing,
That he dares ne'er come back to challengo"
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth
I think it best you married with the county.
Par. My father Capulet will have it so; And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste. Fri. You say, you do not know the lady's mind: Uneven is the course, I like it not. Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, And therefore have I little talk'd of love; For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous, That she doth give her sorrow so much sway; And in his wisdom, hastes our marriage, To stop the inundation of her tears; Which, too much minded by herself alone, May be put from her by society: Now do you know the reason of this haste. Fri. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. [Aside. Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. Enter Juliet. Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife! Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. Par. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday next. Jul. What must be shall be. Fri. That’s a certain text. Par. Come you to make confession to this father? Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you. Par. Do not deny to him, that you love me. Jul. I will confess to you, that I love him. Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me. Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke hehind your back, than to your face. Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Jul. The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough, before their spite. Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report. Jul. That is mo slander, sir, that is a truth; And what I spake, I spake it to my face. Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own. — Are you at leisure, holy father, now; Or shall I come to you at evening mass 2 Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.— My lord, we must entreat the time alone. Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion!— Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you; Till then, adieu' and keep this holy kiss. [Exit PARIs. Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me! Past hope, past cure, past help! Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; It strains me past the compass of my wits: I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this county. Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife I’ll help it presently. God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal’d, Shall be the label to another deed, Or my true heart with treacherous revolt Turn to another, this shall slay them both: Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time, Give me some present counsel; or, behold, 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife Shall play the umpire; arbitrating that, Which the commission of thy years and art Could to no issue of true honour bring. Be not so long to speak; I long to die, If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. Pri. Hold, daughter! I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution,
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry county Paris,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself;
Then is it likely, thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That cop'st with death himself to scape from it;
And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.
Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk,
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless sculls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
Things that,to hear them told, have made me tremble;
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.
Fri. Hold, then, go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris! Wednesday is to-morrow;
To-morrow night look that thou lie alone,
Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber :
Take thou this phial, being then in bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off:
When, presently, through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize
Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep
His natural progress, but surcease to beat:
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall,
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
Each part, depriv'd of supple government,
Shall stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death:
And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now when the bridegroom in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then (as the manner of our country is,)
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier,
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift;
And hither shall he come; and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very might
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame;
If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.
Jul. Give me, O give me! tell me not of fear!
Fri. Hold! get you gone, be strong and prospe-
In this resolve! I'll send a friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.
Jul. Love, give me strength ! and strength shall
help afford :
Farewell, dear father! [Exeunt.
his own fingers; therefore he, that cannot lick his
fingers, goes not with me.
Cap. Go, begone!— [Erit Servant.
We shall be much unfurnish’d for this time. —
What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence?
Nurse. Ay, forsooth.
co, Well, he may chance to do some good on
A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. :
Nurse. See, where she comes from shrift with merry
Cap. How now, my headstrong? where have you
Jul. Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin
of disobedient opposition
To you, and your behests; and am enjoin'd
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
And beg your pardon. – Pardon, I beseech you!
Henceforward I am ever rul’d by you.
Cap. Send for the county; go tell him of this;
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence cell;
And gave him what becomed love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.
Cap. Why, I am glad on’t; this is well,—stand up!
This is as 't should be. — Let me see the county;
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither!—
Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar,
All our whole city is much bound to him.
Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?
La. Cap. No, not till Thursday; there is time
cap. Go, nurse, go with her! — we'll to church to-
morrow. [Exeunt Juliet and Nurse.
La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision;
'Tis now mear might.
cap. Tush! I will stir about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife!
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her!
I'll not to bed to-night! – let me alone!
I'll play the housewife for this once. —What, hol-
They are all forth ! Well, I will walk myself
To county Paris, to prepare him up
Against to-morrow: my heart is wond’rous light,
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.
SCENE III. —JULIET's chamber.
Enter JULIET and Nurse.
Jul. Ay, those attires are best! – But, gentle nurse,
I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night; -
For shave need of many orisons
To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.
Enter Lady CApulet.
La. Cap. What, are you busy? do you need my
Jul. N. madam' we have cull'd such necessaries,
As are behoved for our state to-morrow :
so please you, let me now be left alone,
And let the nurse this might sit up with you;
For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,
In this so sudden business.
La. Cap. Good night !
Get thee to bed, and rest! for thou hast need!
[Ea'eunt Lady Capulet and Nurse.
Jul. Farewell ! — God knows, when we shall meet
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
That almost freezes up the heat of life:
I'll call them back again to comfort me;—
Nurse ! — What should she do here?
|My dismal scene I needs must act alone.—
Come, phial : —
What if this mixture do not work at all?
Must I of force be married to the county?—
No, no – this shall forbid it ! —lie thou there!-
(Iaying downa dogg.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
| Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead;
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonouri,
| Because he married me before to Romeo?
! I fear, it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,
|For he hath still been tried a holy man:
I will not entertain so bad a thought.-
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,
To whose foul mouth no healthsome airbreaki
And there die strangled eremy Romeo come!
Or, if I live, is it not very like,
The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place,"
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where, for these many hundred years, the bo
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in eith
Lies fest’ring in his shroud; where, as the so
At some hours in the night spirits resort;"
Alack, alack' is it not like, that I, *
So early waking, -what with loathsomeo
And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of to
That living mortals, hearing them, run nor
O ! if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Environed with all these hideous fears'.
And madly play with my forefathers' joint,’ o
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his o
And, in this rage, with some great inno"
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains:
O look! methinks, I see my cousin's sho!
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body,
Upon a rapier's point:-Stay, Tybalt.*
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee! ...,
[She throws herself upon the to
Sirrah, fetch drier logs! Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.
Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw In lasting labour of his pilgrimage
2 Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs, But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
And never trouble Peter for the matter. [Exit.
Cap. 'Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson ha,
Thou shalt be logger-head! — Good faith, 'tis day:
The county will be here with music straight,
For so he said he would. I hear him near: —
Nurse ! – Wife! — what, ho! — what, nurse, I say!
Go, waken Juliet, go, and trim her up !
I’ll go and chat with Paris. – Hie, make haste,
Make hastel the bridegroom he is come already:
Make haste, I say! [Exeunt.
SCENE W. — Juliet's chamber; Juliet on the bed.
Nurse. Mistress " — what, mistress! — Juliet ! —
fast, I warrant her, she —
Why, lamb – why, lady!—fye, you slug-a-bed!—
Why, love, I say!—madam – sweet-heart! – why,
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,
(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;
He'll fright you up, i'faith ! – Will it not be?
What, drest! and in your clothes! and down again!
I must needs wake you. —Lady! lady! lady!
Alas! alas! – Help! help my lady’s dead! —
O, well-a-day, that ever I was born 1–
Some aqua-vitae, ho! — my lord my lady!
Enter Lady CApuler.
La. Cap. What noise is here?
Nurse. O lamentable day!
La. Cap. What is the matter?
Nurse. Look, look O heavy day!
La. Cap. O me, O me!— my child, my only life,
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!—
Help, help! — call help!
Cap. For shame, bring Juliet forth! her lord is come!
Nurse. She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead! alack the
La. Cap. Alack the day! she's dead, she's dead,
she’s dead! -
Cap. 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.
Accursed time ! unfortunate old man!
Nurse. O lamentable day!
La. Cap. O woful time!
Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me
Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.
Enter Friar LAURENCE and PARIs, with Musicians.
Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
Cap. Ready to go, but never to return :
0 son, the night before thy wedding day
Hath death lain with thy bride!— See, there she lies,
Flower as she was, deflowered by him.
Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir;
My daughter he hath wedded ! I will die,
And leave him all! life leaving, all is death's
Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face,
And doth it give me such a sight as this?
But one thing to rejoice and solace in, And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight! Nurse. O woel O woful, woful, woful day ! Most lamentable day! most woful day, That ever, ever, I did yo. behold ! O day! O day! O day! O hateful day ! Never was seen so black a day as this! O woful day, O woful day! Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! Most détestable death, by thee beguil'd, By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! – O love! O life! — not life, but love in death 1 Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!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, dead!—alack! my child is dead! And with my child, my joys are buried! Fri. 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: 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 advanc'd : And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd, 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. Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary On this fair corse; and, as the custom is, In all her best array bear her to church : For though fond nature bids us all lament, Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. Cap. All things, that we ordained 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 ; Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, And all things change them to the contrary. Fri. Sir, go you in, – and, madam, go with him!And go, sir Paris every one prepare To follow this fair corse unto her grave: The heavens do low'r upon you, for some ill; Move them no more, by crossing their high will. [Ereunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar. 1 Mus, 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be one. *... Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up! For, well you know, this is a pitiful case! [Exit Nurse. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. Enter Peter. Pet. Musicians, O musicians, Heart's ease, heart's ease 1 0, an you will have melive, play – heart's ease! 1 Mus. Why heart's case ? Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays – My heart is full of woe: O, play me some merry dump, to comfort me. 2 Mius. Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. Pet. You will not then? 2 Mus. No. Pet. I will then give it you soundly.
1 Mus. What will you give us?