Juliets chamber. Enter Juliet and Nurse.
Ay, those attires are best: but, gentle nurse,
I pray thee, leave me to my self to-night,
For I have need of many orisons
To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
Which, well thou knowst, is cross, and full of sin.
Enter Lady Capulet.
What, are you busy, ho? need you my help?
No, madam; we have culld 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.
Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.
Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse.
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:
Ill call them back again to comfort me:
Nurse! What should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone.
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 her dagger.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath ministerd to have me dead,
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonourd,
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.
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeem me? theres 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 packed:
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 kinsmans bone,
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?
O, look! methinks I see my cousins ghost
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
Upon a rapiers point: stay, Tybalt, stay!
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.