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  • Title: Romeo and Juliet (Modern, Quarto 2)
  • Editor: Erin Sadlack
  • ISBN: 1-55058-299-2

    Copyright Erin Sadlack. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Erin Sadlack
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Romeo and Juliet (Modern, Quarto 2)

    [Scene 21/V.i]
    Enter Romeo.
    If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
    My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.
    2725My 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!--
    2730And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,
    That I revived and was an emperor.
    Ah me, how sweet is love itself possessed,
    When but love's shadow's are so rich in joy.
    Enter Romeo's man.
    2735News from Verona! How now, Balthasar?
    Dost thou not bring me letters from the Friar?
    How doth my lady? Is my father well?
    How doth my lady Juliet? That I ask again,
    For nothing can be ill if she be well.
    2740Balthasar
    Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.
    Her body sleeps in Capels' 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.
    2745O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,
    Since you did leave it for my office, sir.
    Is it e'en so? Then I deny you, stars!--
    [To Balthasar] Thou know'st my lodging; get me ink and paper,
    2750And hire post horses. I will hence tonight.
    Balthasar
    I do beseech you, sir, have patience.
    Your looks are pale and wild and do import
    Some misadventure.
    Tush, thou art deceived,
    2755Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
    Hast thou no letters to me from the Friar?
    Balthasar
    No, my good Lord.
    No matter. Get thee gone,
    2760And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.
    Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee tonight.
    Let's see for means. O mischief, thou art swift
    To enter in the thoughts of desperate men.
    I do remember an apothecary,
    2765And hereabouts 'a dwells, which late I noted,
    In tattered weeds with overwhelming brows,
    Culling of simples. Meager were his looks;
    Sharp misery had worn him to the bones,
    And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
    2770An alligator stuffed, and other skins
    Of ill-shaped fishes, and about his shelves
    A beggerly account of empty boxes,
    Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
    Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses
    2775Were thinly scattered to make up a show.
    Noting this penury, to myself I said,
    An if a man did need a poison now,
    Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
    Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
    2780O, this same thought did but forerun my need,
    And this same needy man must sell it me.
    As I remember, this should be the house,
    Being holy day, the beggar's shop is shut.
    What ho, Apothecary!
    [Enter Apothecary.]
    Apothecary
    Who calls so loud?
    Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor.
    Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have
    [Holds up money.]
    A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear,
    2790As will disperse itself through all the veins,
    That the life-weary taker may fall dead,
    And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
    As violently as hasty powder fired
    Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.
    2795Apothecary
    Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua's law
    Is death to any he that utters them.
    Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,
    And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheeks;
    Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes;
    2800Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back.
    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.
    Apothecary
    My poverty, but not my will, consents.
    I pay thy poverty and not thy will.
    Apothecary
    Put this in any liquid thing you will
    And drink it off, and if you had the strength
    Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.
    [Gives Romeo the poison.]
    There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,
    [Gives Apothecary the gold.]
    Doing more murder in this loathsome world
    Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
    I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.
    Farewell, buy food, and get thyself in flesh.
    2815Come, cordial and not poison, go with me
    To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee.