Scene III.
Juliet's Chamber
Enter Juliet and Nurse
Juliet. 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 Capulet. What, are you busy, ho? need you my help?
Juliet. 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 Capulet. Good night;
Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need. [Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse.
Juliet. 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.
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 throws herself on the bed.