Cap. All things that we ordained festival
Turn from their office to black funeral-
Our instruments to melancholy bells,
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse;
And all things change them to the contrary.
Friar. Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him;
And go, Sir Paris. Every one prepare
To follow this fair corse unto her grave.
The heavens do low'r upon you for some ill;
Move them no more by crossing their high will.
Exeunt. Manent Musicians [and Nurse].
1. Mus. Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone.
Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, put up!
For well you know this is a pitiful case. [Exit.]
1. Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
Enter Peter.
Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease,' 'Heart's ease'!
O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.'
1. Mus. Why 'Heart's ease'?
Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My heart is
full
of woe.' O, play me some merry dump to comfort me.
1. Mus. Not a dump we! 'Tis no time to play now.
Pet. You will not then?
1. Mus. No.
Pet. I will then give it you soundly.
1. Mus. What will you give us?
Pet. No money, on my faith, but the gleek. I will give you the
minstrel.
1. Mus. Then will I give you the serving-creature.
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