The Same. JULIET'S Chamber. |
|
Enter JULIET and Nurse. |
Jul. Ay, those attires are best; but, gentle nurse, |
I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night; |
For I have need of many orisons |
To move the heavens to smile upon my state, |
Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin. |
|
Enter LADY CAPULET. |
Lady Cap. What! are you busy, ho? need you my help? |
Jul. No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries |
As are behoveful for our state to-morrow: |
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 all |
In this so sudden business. |
Lady Cap. Good-night: |
Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. [Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse. |
Jul. Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. |
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, |
That almost freezes up the heat of life: |
I'll call them back again to comfort me: |
Nurse! What should she do here? |
My dismal scene I needs must act alone. |
Come, vial. |
What if this mixture do not work at all? |
Shall I be married then to-morrow morning? |
No, no; this shall forbid it: lie thou there. [Laying down a dagger. |
What if it be a poison, which the friar |
Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, |
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd |
Because he married me before to Romeo? |
I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not, |
For he hath still been tried a holy man. |
I will not entertain so bad a thought. |
How if, when I am laid into the tomb, |
I wake before the time that Romeo |
Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! |
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, |
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, |
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? |
Or, if I live, is it not very like, |
The horrible conceit of death and night, |
Together with the terror of the place, |
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, |
Where, for these many hundred years, the bones |
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd; |
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, |
Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, |
At some hours in the night spirits resort: |
Alack, alack! is it not like that I, |
So early waking, what with loathsome smells, |
And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth, |
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad: |
O! if I wake, shall I not be distraught, |
Environed with all these hideous fears, |
And madly play with my forefathers' joints, |
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? |
And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone, |
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? |
O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost |
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body |
Upon a rapier's point. Stay, Tybalt, stay! |
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee. [She falls upon her bed within the curtains. |
Design © 1995-2007 ZeFLIP.com All rights reserved.