Act V. | |
Scene I. Mantua. A Street. | |
| [Enter Romeo.] |
Romeo. | |
| If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, |
| My dreams presage some joyful news at hand; |
| My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne; |
| And all this day an unaccustom'd 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 breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, |
| That I reviv'd, and was an emperor. |
| Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, |
| When but love's shadows are so rich in joy! |
| [Enter Balthasar.] |
| News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar? |
| Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? |
| 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. |
Balthasar. | |
| Then she is well, and nothing can be ill: |
| 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: |
| O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, |
| Since you did leave it for my office, sir. |
Romeo. | |
| Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!-- |
| Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper, |
| And hire post-horses. I will hence to-night. |
Balthasar. | |
| I do beseech you, sir, have patience: |
| Your looks are pale and wild, and do import |
| Some misadventure. |
Romeo. | |
| Tush, thou art deceiv'd: |
| Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do. |
| Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? |
Balthasar. | |
| No, my good lord. |
Romeo. | |
| No matter: get thee gone, |
| And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight. |
| [Exit Balthasar.] |
| Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. |
| Let's see for means;--O mischief, thou art swift |
| To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! |
| I do remember an apothecary,-- |
| And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted |
| In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, |
| Culling of simples; meagre were his looks, |
| Sharp misery had worn him to the bones; |
| And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, |
| An alligator stuff'd, and other skins |
| Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves |
| A beggarly account of empty boxes, |
| Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, |
| Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses, |
| Were thinly scatter'd, 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. |
| O, 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 holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.-- |
| What, ho! apothecary! |
| [Enter Apothecary.] |
Apothecary. | |
| Who calls so loud? |
Romeo. | |
| Come hither, man.--I see that thou art poor; |
| Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have |
| A dram of poison; such soon-speeding gear |
| As will disperse itself through all the veins |
| That the life-weary taker mall 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. |
Apothecary. | |
| Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law |
| Is death to any he that utters them. |
Romeo. | |
| Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness |
| And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, |
| Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, |
| Contempt 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. |
Romeo. | |
| 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 despatch you straight. |
Romeo. | |
| There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls, |
| Doing more murders 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.-- |
| Come, cordial and not poison, go with me |
| To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee. |
| [Exeunt.] |