ACT V.

SCENE I.-A Street in Mantua.

Enter ROMEO.

Romeo :

F 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 in my lips,

That I revived and was an emperor.

Ah me! how sweet is love itself possessed,
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.

Bal. 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.

Rom. Is it e'en 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.

Bal. I do beseech you, sir, have patience : Your looks are pale and wide, and do import Some misadventure.

Rom.

Tush, thou art deceived:

Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?
Bal. No, my good lord.
Rom.

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 'a dwells, which late I noted
In tattered 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 stuffed 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 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.
O, this same thought did but forerun my need.

As I remember, this should be the house:

Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.-
What, ho! apothecary!

Ap.

Enter Apothecary.

Who calls so loud?

Rom. 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 may fall dead.

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law

Is death to any he that utters them.

Rom. 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, Contempt and beggary hang 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. Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents. Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. Ap. 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. Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's

souls,

Doing more murder in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou may'st 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.