ACT FOUR Scene One Friar Laurence: 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. Juliet: Tell me not, friar, that thou hast heard 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 experienced 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. Friar laurence: 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 it is likely thou wilt undertake A thing like death to chide away this shame, That copest with death himself to ?scape from it; And, if thou darest, I?ll give thee remedy. Juliet: 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 covered quite with dead men?s rattling bones, With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; 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. Friar Laurence: Hold, then, go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris: Wednesday is tomorrow; Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone, Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: Take thou this vial, being then in bed, And this distill?d liquor drink thou off: When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold drowsy humour; for no pulse Shall keep his native progress; but surcease; 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, deprived of subtle government Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt continue two and fourty 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 night 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. Juliet : Give me! Give me! O, tell me not of fear! Friar Laurence: Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous In this resolve; I?ll send a friar with speed To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. Juliet: Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father! Scene Two Capulet: See where she comes from shrift with merry look. How now, my headstrong! Where have you been gadding! Juliet: Where I have learned me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition To you and your behests, and am enjoin?d By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, To beg you pardon! Pardon, I beseech you! Henceforward I am ever ruled by you. Capulet: Send for the county; go tell him of this I?ll have this knot knit up tomorrow morning. I?ll not to bed tonight; let me alone; Well, I will walk myself To county Paris, to prepare him up Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim?d. Scene Three Nurse: (off) What, are you busy, ho! need you my help? Juliet: No, we have culled such necessaries As are behoveful for our state tomorrow: So please you; let me now be left alone, For I am sure you have your hands full all In this so sudden business. Nurse: Good night! Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need. Juliet: Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, That almost freezes up the heat of life: I?ll call her back again to comfort me. Nurse! What should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must act alone. Come vial. What if this mixture does not work at all? Shall I be married then tomorrow morning ? No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there (laying down a dagger) What if it be a poison, which the friar Subtly hast minister?d to have me dead Lest in this marriage he should be dishonoured, Because he married me before to Romeo ? I fear it is; and yet, me thinks, it should not, For he hath still been tried a holy man. 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 air breathes in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes ? 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 this many hundred years the bones Of all my buried ancestors are pack?d; Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, Lies festering in his shroud. O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, Environed with all these hideous fears? And madly play with my forefathers? joints? And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud ? O, look, me thinks I see my cousin?s ghost Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body Upon a rapier?s point; Stay, Tybalt, stay ! Romeo, I come ! this do I drink to thee. Scene Four Nurse: Mistress ! What, mistress ! Juliet ! Why lamb ! Why lady ! fie , you slug-a-bed ! Why love, I say ! Madam ! Sweetheart ! why, bride ! What, not a word ? You take your pennyworth?s 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 dressed and in your clothes ? and down again ! I needs must wake you. Lady ! Lady ! Lady ! Alas, alas ! Help, help ! My lady?s dead ! O, well, a day, that ever I was born ! Some aqua-vitae, ho ! My lord ! My lady ! Scene Five Romeo : If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: My bosom?s lord sits lightly in his throne And all this day an unaccustomed 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 breathed such life with kisses on my lips That I revived and was an emperor. Ah me, how sweet is love itself posessed When but love?s shadows are so rich in joy. (taking letter) News from Verona ! How doth my lady ? Is my father well? How fares my Juliet ? that I ask again; For nothing can be ill, if she be well. (reads) ?Her body sleeps in Capel?s monument, And her immortal part with angels lives. I saw her laid low in her kindred?s vault, And presently took post to tell it you.? Is it e?en so ? Then I defy you stars ! Scene Six Capulet : 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 untimley frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. Death, that hath ta?en her hence to make me wail, Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak. Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain ! Most detestable death, by thee beguiled By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown ! O child ! O child ! My soul and not my child ! Dead art thou ! Alack my child is dead; And with my child my joys are buried ! All things we ordain? 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. Acte V ©Daniel Soulier