_Iul_: Farewell, God knowes when wee shall meete againe. Ah, I doo take a fearfull thing in hand. What if this Potion should not worke at all. Must I of force be married to the Countie? This shall forbid it. Knife, lye thou there. 15 What if the Frier should giue me this drinke To poyson mee, for feare I should disclose Our former marriage? Ah, I wrong him much, He is a holy and religious Man: I will not entertaine so bad a thought. 20 What if I should be stifled in the Toomb? Awake an houre before the appointed time: Ah then I feare I shall be lunaticke, And playing with my dead forefathers bones, Dash out my franticke braines. Me thinkes I see 25 My Cosin _Tybalt_ weltring in his bloud, Seeking for _Romeo_: stay _Tybalt_ stay. _Romeo_ I come, this doe I drinke to thee. _She fals vpon her bed within the Curtaines._ [Sidenote: [SC. XIX.]] _Enter Nurse with hearbs, Mother._ _Moth_: Thats well said Nurse, set all in redines, The Countie will be heere immediatly. _Enter Oldeman._ _Cap_: Make hast, make hast, for it is almost day, The Curfewe bell hath rung, t'is foure a clocke, Looke to your bakt meates good _Angelica_. _Nur_: Goe get you to bed you cotqueane. I faith you will be sicke anone. _Cap_: I warrant thee Nurse I haue ere now watcht all night, and haue taken no harme at all. _Moth_: I you haue beene a mouse hunt in your time. 10 _Enter Seruingman with Logs & Coales._ _Cap_: A Ielous hood, a Ielous hood: How now sirra? What haue you there? _Ser_: Forsooth Logs. _Cap_: Goe, goe choose dryer. Will will tell thee where thou shalt fetch them. 15 _Ser_: Nay I warrant let me alone, I haue a heade I troe to choose a Log. _Exit._ _Cap_: Well goe thy way, thou shalt be logger head. Come, come, make hast call vp your daughter, The Countie will be heere with musicke straight. 20 Gods me hees come, Nurse call vp my daughter. _Nur_: Goe, get you gone. What lambe, what Lady birde? fast I warrant. What _Iuliet_? well, let the County take you in your bed: yee sleepe for a weeke now, but the next night, the Countie _Paris_ hath set vp his rest that you shal rest 25 but little. What lambe I say, fast still: what Lady, Loue, whatbride, what _Iuliet_? Gods me how sound she sleeps? Nay then I see I must wake you indeed. Whats heere, laide on your bed, drest in your cloathes and down, ah me, alack the day, some Aqua vitæ hoe. 30 _Enter Mother._ _Moth_: How now whats the matter?