Enter PETER. Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, Heart's Ease, Heart's Ease; O, an you will have me live, play Heart's Ease. First Mus. Why Heart's Ease? Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays-My Heart is full of Woe. O play me some merry dump, to comfort me. Second. Mus. Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. Pet. You will not then? Mus. No. Pet. I will then give it you soundly. First Mus. What will you give us? Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek: I will give you the minstrel. First Mus. Then will I give you the serving-creature. Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, I'll fa you; Do you note me? First Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. Second Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit. Pet. Then have at you with my wit; I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger :-Answer me like men: When griping griefs the heart doth wound," And doleful dumps the mind oppress, Then music, with her silver sound. Why, 'silver sound?' why 'music with her silver sound?' First Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. Second Mus. I say—‘silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver. Pet. Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost? Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer: I will say for you. It is as you have music with her silver sound,' because such fellows seldom gold for sounding : Then music with her silver sound, With speedy help doth lend redress. [Exit. First Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same! Second Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here: tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt. Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep,1 (Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think!); Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, Enter BALTHASAR. News from Verona !-How now, Balthasar? How doth my lady? Is my father well? Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!— Bal. I do beseech you, sir, have patience. Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure. Rom. Tush, thou art deceiv'd : Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do : Bal. No, my good lord. Rom. No matter: get thee gone [Exit BALTHASAR. Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. y 2 And hereabouts he dwells-which late I noted Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses, Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him. 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; 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. 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,3 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. |