Another small break between acts before act IV begins
Cast for these Scenes:
Friar Laurence: Royal Guard
Prince Blueblood: Prince Blueblood
Jewellette: Applebloom
Apple: Big Macintosh
Lady Apple: Applejack
First Servant: Dinky Doo
Second Servant: Rocky Road
ACT IV
SCENE I. Friar Laurence's cell.
Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and BLUEBLOOD
FRIAR LAURENCE
On Thorseday, sir? the time is very short.
BLUEBLOOD
My sire-in-law would have it so;
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
FRIAR LAURENCE
You say you do not know the filly's mind:
Uneven is the course, I like it not.
BLUEBLOOD
Immoderately she weeps for Tybuck's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
For Luna smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her sire counts it dangerous
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway,
And in his wisdom hastes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society:
Now do you know the reason of this haste.
FRIAR LAURENCE
[Aside] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.
Look, sir, here comes the filly towards my cell.
Enter JEWELLETTE
BLUEBLOOD
Happily met, my filly and my wife!
JEWELLETTE
That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
BLUEBLOOD
That may be must be, love, on Thorseday next.
JEWELLETTE
What must be shall be.
FRIAR LAURENCE
That's a certain text.
BLUEBLOOD
Come you to make confession to this father?
JEWELLETTE
To answer that, I should confess to you.
BLUEBLOOD
Do not deny to him that you love me.
JEWELLETTE
I will confess to you that I love him.
BLUEBLOOD
So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.
JEWELLETTE
If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your flank, than to your face.
BLUEBLOOD
Poor foal, thy face is much abused with tears.
JEWELLETTE
The tears have got small victory by that;
For it was bad enough before their spite.
BLUEBLOOD
Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.
JEWELLETTE
That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
BLUEBLOOD
Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.
JEWELLETTE
It may be so, for it is not mine own.
Are you at leisure, holy father, now;
Or shall I come to you at evening mass?
FRIAR LAURENCE
My leisure serves me, pensive mare, now.
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
BLUEBLOOD
Celest' shield I should disturb devotion!
Jewellette, on Thorseday early will I rouse ye:
Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss.
Exit
JEWELLETTE
O shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!
FRIAR LAURENCE
Ah, Jewellette, I already know thy grief;
It strains me past the compass of my wits:
I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thorseday next be married to this county.
JEWELLETTE
Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this,
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:
If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,
Do thou but call my resolution wise,
And with this knife I'll help it presently.
Celest' join'd my heart and Rodeo's, thou our hooves;
And ere this hoof, by thee to Rodeo seal'd,
Shall be the label to another deed,
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
Turn to another, this shall slay them both:
Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,
Give me some present counsel, or, behold,
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
Which the commission of thy years and art
Could to no issue of true honour bring.
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.
FRIAR LAURENCE
Hold, mare: I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution.
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
If, rather than to marry Prince Blueblood,
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to chide away this shame,
That copest with death himself to scape from it:
And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy.
JEWELLETTE
O, bid me leap, rather than marry him,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring Ursas;
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead pony's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave
And hide me with a dead pony in his shroud;
Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;
And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.
FRIAR LAURENCE
Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Blueblood: Whinnesday is to-morrow:
To-morrow night look that thou lie alone;
Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:
Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
When presently through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse
Shall keep his native progress, but surcease:
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;
The roses in thy lips and flank shall fade
To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall,
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
Each part, deprived of supple government,
Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death:
And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now, when the Prince in the morning comes
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then, as the manner of our country is,
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
Where all the kinspony of the Apples rest.
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Rodeo by my letters know our drift,
And hither shall he come: and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Rodeo bear thee hence to Pontua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame;
If no inconstant toy, nor marish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting it.
JEWELLETTE
Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!
FRIAR LAURENCE
Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous
In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed
To Pontua, with my letters to thy Rodeo.
JEWELLETTE
Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford.
Farewell, dear father!
Exeunt
SCENE II. Hall in Capulet's house.
Enter APPLE, LADY APPLE Nurse, and two Servingcolts
APPLE
So many guests invite as here are writ.
Exit First Servant
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.
Second Servant
You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they
can lick their hooves.
APPLE
How canst thou try them so?
Second Servant
Marry, sire, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his
own hooves: therefore he that cannot lick his
hooves goes not with me.
APPLE
Go, be gone.
Exit Second Servant
We shall be much unfurnished for this time.
What, is my filly gone to Friar Laurence?
Nurse
Ay, forsooth.
APPLE
Well, he may chance to do some good on her:
A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.
Nurse
See where she comes from shrift with merry look.
Enter JEWELLETTE
APPLE
How now, my hoofstrong! where have you been trotting?
JEWELLETTE
Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin
Of disobedient opposition
To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd
By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you!
Henceforward I am ever ruled by you.
APPLE
Send for the Prince; go tell him of this:
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
JEWELLETTE
I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
And gave him what becomed love I might,
Not step o'er the bounds of modesty.
APPLE
Why, I am glad on't; this is well: stand up:
This is as't should be. Let me see the Prince;
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.
Now, afore Celest'! this reverend holy friar,
Our whole city is much bound to him.
JEWELLETTE
Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
To help me sort such needful ornaments
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?
LADY APPLE
No, not till Thorseday; there is time enough.
APPLE
Go, nurse, go with her: we'll to church to-morrow.
Exeunt JEWELLETTE and Nurse
LADY APPLE
We shall be short in our provision:
'Tis now near night.
APPLE
Tush, I will stir about,
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:
Go thou to Jewellette, help to deck up her;
I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone;
I'll play the housedam for this once. What, ho!
They are all forth. Well, I will trot myself
To Prince Bluelood, to prepare him up
Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light,
Since this same wayward filly is so reclaim'd.
Exeunt