Internet Shakespeare Editions

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  • Title: Romeo and Juliet (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
  • ISBN: 1-55058-299-2

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Romeo and Juliet (Folio 1, 1623)

    72 The Tragedie of Romeo and Iuliet.

    2455This is as't should be, let me see the County:
    I marrie go I say, and fetch him hither.
    Now afore God, this reueren'd holy Frier,
    All our whole Cittie is much bound to him.
    Iul. Nurse will you goe with me into my Closet,
    2460To helpe me sort such needfull ornaments,
    As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow?
    Mo. No not till Thursday, there's time inough.
    Fa. Go Nurse, go with her,
    Weele to Church to morrow.
    2465 Exeunt Iuliet and Nurse.
    Mo. We shall be short in our prouision,
    'Tis now neere night.
    Fa. Tush, I will stirre about,
    And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife:
    2470Go thou to Iuliet, helpe to decke vp her,
    Ile not to bed to night, let me alone:
    Ile play the huswife for this once. What ho?
    They are all forth, well I will walke my selfe
    To Countie Paris, to prepare him vp
    2475Against to morrow, my heart is wondrous light,
    Since this same way-ward Gyrle is so reclaim'd.
    Exeunt Father and Mother.

    Enter Iuliet and Nurse.
    Iul. I those attires are best, but gentle Nurse
    2480I pray thee leaue me to my selfe to night:
    For I haue need of many Orysons,
    To moue the heauens to smile vpon my state,
    Which well thou know'st, is crosse and full of sin.
    Enter Mother.
    2485Mo. What are you busie ho? need you my help?
    Iul. No Madam, we haue cul'd such necessaries
    As are behoouefull for our state to morrow:
    So please you, let me now be left alone;
    And let the Nurse this night sit vp with you,
    2490For I am sure, you haue your hands full all,
    In this so sudden businesse.
    Mo. Goodnight.
    Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need. Exeunt.
    Iul. Farewell:
    2495God knowes when we shall meete againe.
    I haue a faint cold feare thrills through my veines,
    That almost freezes vp the heate of fire:
    Ile call them backe againe to comfort me.
    Nurse, what should she do here?
    2500My dismall Sceane, I needs must act alone:
    Come Viall, what if this mixture do not worke at all?
    Shall I be married then to morrow morning?
    No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there,
    What if it be a poyson which the Frier
    2505Subtilly hath ministred to haue me dead,
    Least in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
    Because he married me before to Romeo?
    I feare it is, and yet me thinkes it should not,
    For he hath still beene tried a holy man.
    2510How, if when I am laid into the Tombe,
    I wake before the time that Romeo
    Come to redeeme me? There's a fearefull point:
    Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault?
    To whose foule mouth no healthsome ayre breaths in,
    2515And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes.
    Or if I liue, is it not very like,
    The horrible conceit of death and night,
    Together with the terror of the place,
    As in a Vaulte, an ancient receptacle,
    2520Where for these many hundred yeeres the bones
    Of all my buried Auncestors are packt,
    Where bloody Tybalt, yet but greene in earth,
    Lies festring in his shrow'd, where as they say,
    At some houres in the night, Spirits resort:
    2525Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I
    So early waking, what with loathsome smels,
    And shrikes like Mandrakes torne out of the earth,
    That liuing mortalls hearing them, run mad.
    O if I walke, shall I not be distraught,
    2530Inuironed with all these hidious feares,
    And madly play with my forefathers ioynts?
    And plucke the mangled Tybalt from his shrow'd?
    And in this rage, with some great kinsmans bone,
    As (with a club) dash out my desperate braines.
    2535O looke, me thinks I see my Cozins Ghost,
    Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body
    Vpon my Rapiers point: stay Tybalt, stay;
    Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, here's drinke: I drinke to thee.

    Enter Lady of the house, and Nurse.

    2540Lady. Hold,
    Take these keies, and fetch more spices Nurse.
    Nur. They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastrie.
    Enter old Capulet.
    Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir,
    2545The second Cocke hath Crow'd,
    The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three a clocke:
    Looke to the bakte meates, good Angelica,
    Spare not for cost.
    Nur. Go you Cot-queane, go,
    2550Get you to bed, faith youle be sicke to morrow
    For this nights watching.
    Cap. No not a whit: what? I haue watcht ere now
    All night for lesse cause, and nere beene sicke.
    La. I you haue bin a Mouse-hunt in your time,
    2555But I will watch you from such watching now.
    Exit Lady and Nurse.
    Cap. A iealous hood, a iealous hood,
    Now fellow, what there?
    Enter three or foure with spits, and logs, and baskets.
    2560Fel. Things for the Cooke sir, but I know not what.
    Cap. Make hast, make hast, sirrah, fetch drier Logs.
    Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are.
    Fel. I haue a head sir, that will find out logs,
    And neuer trouble Peter for the matter.
    2565Cap. Masse and well said, a merrie horson, ha,
    Thou shalt be loggerhead; good Father, 'tis day.
    Play Musicke
    The Countie will be here with Musicke straight,
    For so he said he would, I heare him neere,
    2570Nurse, wife, what ho? what Nurse I say?
    Enter Nurse.
    Go waken Iuliet, go and trim her vp,
    Ile go and chat with Paris: hie, make hast,
    Make hast, the Bridegroome, he is come already:
    2575Make hast I say.
    Nur. Mistris, what Mistris? Iuliet? Fast I warrant her she.
    Why Lambe, why Lady? fie you sluggabed,
    Why Loue I say? Madam, sweet heart: why Bride?
    What not a word? You take your peniworths now.
    2580Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant
    The Countie Paris hath set vp his rest,
    That you shall rest but little, God forgiue me:
    Marrie and Amen: how sound is she a sleepe?