And with my child my joys are buried.FRIAR LAURENCE Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not In these confusions.Heaven and yourself Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all, And all the better is it for the maid:Your part in her you could not keep from death, But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was her promotion;
For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced:And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, in this love, you love your child so ill, That you run mad, seeing that she is well:She's not well married that lives married long;But she's best married that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary On this fair corse; and, as the custom is, In all her best array bear her to church:For though fond nature bids us an lament, Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.CAPULET All things that we ordained festival, Turn from their office to black funeral;Our instruments to melancholy bells, Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast, Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change, Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, And all things change them to the contrary.FRIAR LAURENCE Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him;And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare To follow this fair corse unto her grave:The heavens do lour upon you for some ill;Move them no more by crossing their high will.
Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIS, and FRIAR LAURENCE First Musician Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.Nurse Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up;For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.
First Musician Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
Enter PETER PETER Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.' First Musician Why 'Heart's ease?' PETER O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump, to comfort me.First Musician Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now.PETER You will not, then? First Musician No.PETER I will then give it you soundly.First Musician What will you give us? PETER No money, on my faith, but the gleek;I will give you the minstrel.First Musician Then I will give you the serving-creature.PETER 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 Musician An you re us and fa us, you note us.Second Musician Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.PETER 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 grief 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'? What say you, Simon Catling? Musician Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.PETER Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck? Second Musician I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver.PETER Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost? Third Musician Faith, I know not what to say.PETER O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer:I will say for you.It is 'music with her silver sound,'
because musicians have no gold for sounding:'Then music with her silver sound With speedy help doth lend redress.'
First Musician What a pestilent knave is this same! Second Musician Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here;tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.