JULIET: What if this mixture do
not work at all? Shall I be married then tomarrow morning?
GLORIA: What, daughter are you
busy? Need you my help?
JULIET: No, madam. We have called
such necessaries as our behoveful for our state tomarrow. so please
you, let me now be left alone, and let the nurse this night sit
up with you. for I am sure you have your hands full in all this
so sudden business.
GLORIA: Get thee to be and rest,
for thou has need.
JULIET: Farewell. God knows when
we shall meet again.
GLORIA: Goodnight.
JULIET: Romeo, I drink to thee.
FATHER LAWRENCE: As the custom
is, in all her best array, bear her to church.
ROMEO: And all this day an unaccustomed
spirit lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. I dreampt
my lady came and found me dead and breathed such life with kisses
in my lips that I revived and was an emperor. Ah me, how sweet
is love itself possesed when but love's shadow's are so rich in
joy. News from Verona. How now, Balthasar?! Dost thou not bring
me letters from the Priest? How doth my lady? Is my Father well?
How doth my lady Juliet? For nothing can be ill if she be well.
BALTHASAR: If she is well then
nothing can be ill. Her body rests in Capel's monument, and her
immortal part with the angel's lives. I saw her laid low. Pardon
me for bringing these ill news.
ROMEO: Then I defy you, stars!
JULIET! JULIET! I will hence tonight.
BALTHASAR: Have patience!
ROMEO: Leave Me!
BALTHASAR: Your looks are pale
and wild and do import some misadventure.
ROMEO: Tush, thou art decieved.
Hast thou no letters to me from the priest? No matter. Well, Juliet,
I will lie with thee tonight. I will hence tonight.
POLICE OFFICER: Romeo is within
Verona Wall's.
ROMEO: Let me have a dram of poision,
such soom speeding gear, as will disperce itself through all the
veins, that the life weary taker may fall dead
GUY WITH POISON: Such mortal drugs
I have, but Verona's law is death to any that utters them.
ROMEO: The world is not thy friend,
nor the worlds law. Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.
GUY WITH POISON: My poverty, but
not my will concents.
ROMEO: I pay thy poverty, And
not thy will.
GUY WITH POISON: Drink it off
and, if you had the strength of twenty men it would dispatch you
straight.
ROMEO: Here is my gold. Worse
poision to men's souls, than these poor compounds that thou mayest
not sell.
FATHER LAWRENCE: The letter was
of dear import.
CLERK: I could not send it nor
get a messenger to bring it thee.
FATHER LAWRENCE: The neglecting
it may do much damage.
ROMEO: Live and be prosperous;
and farewell good fellow.
