no crotchets. I’ll re you, I’ll fa you. Do you note me?


FIRST MUSICIAN.

And 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 griefs 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?


FIRST MUSICIAN.

Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.


PETER.

Prates. What say you, Hugh Rebeck?


SECOND MUSICIAN.

I say ‘silver sound’ because musicians sound for silver.


PETER.

Prates 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.’


 [Exit.]
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.


 [Exeunt.]


ACT V
SCENE I. Mantua. A Street.
 Enter Romeo.
ROMEO.

If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep,

My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.

My bosom’s lord sits lightly in his throne;

And all this day an unaccustom’d spirit

Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead,—

Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think!—

And breath’d such life with kisses in my lips,

That I reviv’d, and was an emperor.

Ah me, how sweet is love itself possess’d,

When but love’s shadows are so rich in joy.


 Enter Balthasar.
News from Verona! How now, Balthasar?

Dost thou not bring me letters from the Friar?

How doth my lady? Is my father well?