Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.

Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!
You tallow face!

La. Cap. Fie, fie! what, are you mad?

Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! I tell thee what,-get thee to church o' Thursday, Or never after look me in the face:

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;

My fingers itch.-Wife, we scarce thought us bless'd,
That God had sent us but this only child;
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her:
Out on her, hilding!

Nurse. God in heaven bless her!

You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. Nurse. I speak no treason.

Cap. O, God ye good den!

Nurse. May not one speak?

Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool!

Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,

For here we need it not.

La. Cap. You are too hot.

Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad day, night,

[late, early,

At home, abroad, alone, in company,
Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been
To have her match'd: and having now provided
A gentleman of princely parentage,

Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
Stuff'd (as they say) with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's heart could wish a man,-
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
To answer "I'll not wed,"-"I cannot love,"-
"I am too young,"-"I pray you, pardon me;"-
But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you:
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me;
Look to't, think on 't, I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:
An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i' the streets,
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good:
Trust to 't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn.
Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?—
O, sweet my mother, cast me not away!
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.

[Exit.

La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word; Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.

[Exit.

Jul. O God!-0 nurse! how shall this be prevented?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
How shall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth?-Comfort me, counsel me.-
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself!-

What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse?

Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis. Romeo

Is banish'd; and all the world to nothing,
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the county.
O, he's a lovely gentleman!

Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, Madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye,
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first: or if it did not,
Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
As living here and you no use of him.
Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
Nurse. From my soul too;

Or else beshrew them both.

Jul. Amen!

Nurse. To what?

Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,

Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell, i
To make confession, and to be absolved.

Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [Exit.
Jul. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!

Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue

SCENE I.-FRIAR LAURENCE'S Cell.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS.

Fri. On Thursday, Sir? the time is very short.
Par. My father Capulet will have it so;

And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.

Fri. You say you do not know the lady's mind:
Uneven is the course, I like it not.

Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, Sir, her father 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.

Fri. [Aside.] I would I knew not why it should be Look, Sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. [slow'd

Enter JULIET.

Par. Happily met, my lady and my wife!

Jul. That may be, Sir, when I may be a wife.

Par. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday next. Jul. What must be, shall be.

Fri. That's a certain text.

Par. Come you to make confession to this father? Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you. Par. Do not deny to him that you love me. Jul. I will confess to you that I love him. Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me. Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears. Jul. The tears have got small victory by that; For it was bad enough before their spite.

Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that reJul. That is no slander, Sir, that is a truth;

[port.

And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. Jul. 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?

Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.-My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

Par. God shield, I should disturb devotion!Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you:

Till then, adieu! and keep this holy kiss. [Exit PARIS. Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;

It strains me past the compass of my wits:

I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this county.

Jul. 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.
God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo 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.
Fri. Hold, daughter: 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 county Paris,
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 cop'st with death himself to scape from it;

And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.
Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men'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 man 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.

Fri. Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow;
To-morrow night look that thou lie alone,
Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:
Take thou this phial, being then in bed,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off:

When presently through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize
Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep
His natural progress, but surcease to beat:
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st;
The roses in thy lips and cheeks 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 remain full two-and-forty hours,
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
Now when the bridegroom 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 kindred of the Capulets lie.
In the meantime, against thou shalt awake,
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift;
And hither shall he come: and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.

And this shall free thee from this present shame;
If no unconstant toy, nor womanish fear,

Abate thy valour in the acting it.

Jul. Give me, O give me! tell me not of fear. Fri. Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed

To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.

Jul. Love, give me strength! and strength shall help afford.

Farewell, dear father!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-A Room in CAPULET'S House. Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, Nurse, and Servants. Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ.— [Exit 1 Servant. Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.

2 Serv. You shall have none ill, Sir; for I'll try if they can lick their fingers.

Cap. How canst thou try them so?

2 Serv. Marry, Sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me.

Cap. Go, begone.-

[Exit 2 Servant. We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence? Nurse. Ay, forsooth.

Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her: A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.

Enter JULIET.

Nurse. See where she comes from shrift with merry look. [gadding? Cap. How now, my headstrong? where have you been Jul. 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.

Cap. Send for the county; go tell him of this;
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
And gave him what becomèd love I might,
Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.

Cap. Why, I am glad on 't; this is well,-stand up:
This is as 't should be.-Let me see the county;
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.—
Now, afore God, this reverend holy friar,

All our whole city is much bound to him.
Jul. 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?

La. Cap. No, not till Thursday; there is time enough. Cap. Go, nurse, go with her:-we'll to church to [Exeunt JULIET and Nurse. La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision; 'Tis now near night.

morrow.

Cap. Tush! I will stir about,

And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her;

I'll not to bed to-night;-let me alone;

I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho!-
They are all forth: well, I will walk myself
To county Paris, to prepare him up

Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light,

Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. [Ezcunt. SCENE III-JULIET's Chamber.

Enter JULIET and Nurse.

Jul. 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

La. Cap. What, are you busy? do you need my help? Jul. 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.

La. Cap. Good night!

Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. [Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse. Jul. 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, phial.-

What if this mixture do not work at all?
Must I of force be married to the county?—
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:

I will not entertain so bad a thought.—
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 réceptacle,
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 fest'ring 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.

SCENE IV.-CAPULET'S Hall.
Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse.

La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices,

nurse.

Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. Enter CAPULET.

Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:- [crow'd, Look to the baked meats, good Angelica:

Spare not for cost.

Nurse. Go, go, you cot-quean, go;

Get you to bed; 'faith, you'll be sick to-morrow
For this night's watching.

Cap. No, not a whit; what! I have watch'd ere now All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.

La. Cap Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your But I will watch you from such watching now. [time; [Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse. Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood!-Now, fellow, What's there?

Enter Servants, with spits, logs, and baskets.

1 Serv. Things for the cook, Sir; but I know not what.

Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit 1 Serv.]--Sirrah,

fetch drier logs;

SCENE V.-JULIET's Chamber; JULIET on the bed.
Enter Nurse.

Nurse. Mistress!-what, mistress!-Juliet!-fast, I warrant her, she:

Why, lamb-why, lady!-fie, you slug-a-bed!---
Why, ove, I say!-Madam!-sweet-heart!-why, bride!
What not a word?-you take your pennyworths now;
Sleepfor a week: for the next night, I warrant,
The ounty Paris hath set up his rest,
That you shall rest but little.-God forgive me,
(Mary and amen!) how sound is she asleep!

I neals must wake her:-Madam, Madam, Madam!

Ay, et the county take you in your bed;
He'l fright you up, i' faith.-Will it not be?

What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again!
I mist needs wake you:-Lady! lady! lady!-

Alas! alas!-Help! help! my lady's dead!

O, well-a-day, that ever I was born!-

Sone aqua vita, ho!-my lord my lady!

Enter LADY CAPULET.

La. Cap. What noise is here?

Vurse. O lamentable day!

La. Cap. What is the matter?

Nurse. Look, look! O heavy day!

La. Cap. O me, O me!-my child, my only life,
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!-
Help, help!-call help.

Enter CAPULET.

Cap. For shame! bring Juliet forth; her lord is come. Nurse. She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day! [dead.

La. Cap. Alack the day! she's dead, she's dead, she's Cap. Ha! let me see her:-Out, alas! she's cold; Her blood is settled; and her joints are stiff;

Life and these lips have long been separated:

Death lies on her, like an untimely frost

Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Accursed time! unfortunate old man!

Nurse. O lamentable day!

La Cap. O woful time!

Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?

La. Cap. Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! Most miserable hour that e'er time saw

In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!

But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,

And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight.
Nurse. O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day! most woful day
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!

O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:
O woful day, O woful day!

Par. Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most détestable death, by thee beguiled,
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!-

O love! O life!-not life, but love in death!
Cap. Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!-
Uncomfortable time! why cam'st thou now

To murder, murder our solemnity?

O child! O child!-my soul, and not my child!-
Dead art thou, dead!-alack! my child is dead;
And with my child my joys are buried!

Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not
In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid:

Your part in her you could not keep from death;
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was her promotion;
For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced :
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced,
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, in this love, you love your child so ill,
That you run mad, seeing that she is well:
She's not well married that lives married long;
But she's best married that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,
In all her best array bear her to church:
For though fond nature bids us all lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.

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.
Fri. 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 lower upon you, for some ill;
Move them no more, by crossing their high will.
[Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIS, and FRIAR.
I 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 Nurse.
1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
Enter PETER.

Pet. Musicians, O musicians, "Heart's ease, heart's ease;" 0, an you will have me live, play "Heart's

Pet. I will then give it you soundly.

2 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. Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, I'll fa you; do you note me?

1 Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us.

2 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

Pet. 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 grief the heart doth wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
Then music, with her silver sound-"

Why "silver sound?" why "music with her silver
What say you, Simon Catling?
[sound?"

1 Mus. Marry, Sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. Pet. Pretty!-What say you, Hugh Rebeck?

2 Mus. I say "silver sound," because musicians sound for silver.

Pet. Pretty too!-What say you, James Soundpost? 3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say.

Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer: I will say for you. It is "music with her silver sound," because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding:

"Then music, with her silver sound,

With speedy help doth lend redress."
[Exit, singing.

1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same! 2 Mus. Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE L-MANTUA. A Street.

Enter ROMEO.

Rom. 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 breathed such life with kisses in my lips,
That I revived, and was an emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy?
Enter BALTHAZAR.

News from Verona!-How now, Balthazar?
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father well?
How fares my Juliet? That I ask again;
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.

Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body sleeps in Capels' monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives;
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
And presently took post to tell it you:-
O pardon me for bringing these ill news,
Since you did leave it for my office, Sir.

Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!—
Thou know'st my lodging; get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.

Bal. Pardon me, Sir, I will not leave you thus: Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure.

Rom. Tush, thou art deceived;

Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do;
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?

Bal. No, my good lord.

Rom. No matter: get thee gone,

And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.
[Exit BALTHAZAR.
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
Let's see for means:-O mischief, thou art swift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
I do remember an apothecary,-

And hereabouts he dwells,-whom late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuff'd, and other skins

Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves

A beggarly account of empty boxes,

Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said-
An if a man did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
O, this same thought did but forerun my need;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house:
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.-
What, ho! apothecary!

A dram of poison; such soon-speeding gear
As will disperse itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead;
And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
As violently as hasty powder fired

Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law Is death to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,
And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery,

The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law:
The world affords no law to make thee rich
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.
Ap. My poverty, but not my will, conserts.
Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will,
And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight.

Rom. There is thy gold; worse poison tomen's souls,
Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell:
I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.
Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh.-
Come, cordial, and not poison, go with me

To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-FRIAR LAURENCE'S Cel.

Enter FRIAR JOHN.

John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE.

Lau. This same should be the voice of friar JohnWelcome from Mantua: what says Romeo?

Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
John. Going to find a barefoot brother out,
One of our order, to associate me,
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the town,
Suspecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;
So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.
Lau. Who bare my letter then to Romeo?
John. I could not send it,-here it is again,-
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.

Lau. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice, but full of charge,
Of dear import; and the neglecting it
May do much danger. Friar John, go hence;
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.

John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. Lau. Now must I to the monument alone; Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake; She will beshrew me much, that Romeo Hath had no notice of these accidents:

And keep her at my cell till Romeo come;

But I will write again to Mantua,

Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb! [Eat.

SCENE III-A Churchyard; in it a Monument belong ing to the CAPULETS.

Enter PARIS, and his Page, bearing flowers and a tork.
Par. Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. [aloof;-
Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves)
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone

Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure. [Retires
Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy bridal bed :
Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain
The perfect model of eternity;

Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,
Accept this latest favour at my hands;
That living honour'd thee, and, being dead,
With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb!

[The Boy whistles
The boy gives warning something doth approach.
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
To cross my obsequies, and true love's rite?
What, with a torch!-muffle me, night, a while.

[Retires.

Enter ROMEO and BALTHAZAR, with a torch, mattock, &c.
Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching iron.
Hold, take this letter; early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
Give me the light: upon thy life I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I descend into this bed of death,

Is partly to behold my lady's face:

But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger
A precious ring,-a ring that I must use

In dear employment; therefore hence, begone:—
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further shall intend to do,

By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,

And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs;
The time and my intents are savage-wild;
More fierce, and more inexorable far,
Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

Bal. I will be gone, Sir, and not trouble you. [that:
Rom. So shalt thou shew me friendship.--Take thou
Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow.
Bal. [Aside.] For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout;
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Retires.
Rom. Thou détestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,

[Breaking open the door of the monument.
And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!
Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague,
That murder'd my love's cousin ;-with which grief,
It is supposed the fair creature died,-

And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.—

[Advances.

Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague!
Can vengeance be pursued further than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.

Rom. I must, indeed; and therefore came I hither.-
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man,
Fly hence, and leave me ;-think upon these gone;
Let them affright thee.-I beseech thee, youth,
Heap not another sin upon my head,

By urging me to fury:-0, begone!

By heaven, I love thee better than myself:
For I come hither arm'd against myself:
Stay not, begone;-live, and hereafter say-
A madman's mercy bade thee run away.
Par. I do defy thy conjurations,
And do attach thee as a felon here.

Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy. [They fight. Page. O Lord! they fight: I will go call the watch. [Exit Page. Par. [Falls.] O, I am slain!-If thou be merciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies.

Rom. In faith, I will.-Let me peruse this face:Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris!What said my man, when my betossed soul Did not attend him as we rode? I think

He told me, Paris should have married Juliet:
Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To think it was so?-0, give me thy hand,
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave,-

A grave? O, no; a lantern, slaughter'd youth;
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence full of light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.

[Laying PARIS in the monument.
How oft when men are at the point of death
Have they been merry! which their keepers call
A lightning before death: 0, how may I
Call this a lightning?-0, my love! my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.-
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
O, what more favour can I do to thee,

Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,
To sunder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin!-Ah, dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe
That unsubstantial Death is amorous;
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?

For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again; here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chambermaids; O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh.-Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss

A dateless bargain to engrossing death!-
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love! [Drinks.] O, true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.
[Dies.
Enter, at the other end of the Churchyard, FRIAR LAU-
RENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade.
Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night
Have my old feet stumbled at graves!--Who's there?
Who is it that consorts so late the dead?

Bal. [Advancing.] Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, What torch is yond' that vainly lends his light To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern, It burneth in the Capels' monument.

Bal. It doth so, holy Sir; and there's my master, One that you love.

Fri. Who is it?

Bal. Romeo.

Fri. How long hath he been there?

Bal. Full half an hour.

Fri. Go with me to the vault.

Bal. I dare not, Sir:

My master knows not but I am gone hence;
And fearfully did menace me with death,
If I did stay to look on his intents.

Fri. Stay, then: I'll go alone.-Fear comes upon me:

O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing!
Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,

I dreamt my master and another fought,

And that my master slew him.

Fri. [Advances.] Romeo!

Alack, alack, what blood is this which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre?-
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?

[Enters the monument.
Romeo! O, pale!-Who else? what, Paris, too?
And steep'd in blood?-Ah, what an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable chance!
The lady stirs.

[JULIET wakes and stirs. Jul. O, comfortable friar! where is my lord?I do remember well where I should be,

And there I am:-Where is my Romeo? [Noise within. Fri. I hear some noise.-Lady, come from that nest Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;

A greater Power than we can contradict

Hath thwarted our intents;-come, come, away:

Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;

And Paris too;-come, I'll dispose of thee
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:

Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
Come, go, good Juliet, [Noise again.]-I dare no longer
stay.
[Exit.

Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:O churl! drink all; and leave no friendly drop, To help me after?-I will kiss thy lips; Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them, To make me die with a restorative. Thy lips are warm!

ger!

[Kisses him.

1 Walch. [Within.] Lead, boy!-Which way? Jul. Yea, noise?-then I'll be brief.-O happy dag[Snatching ROMEO's dagger. This is thy sheath; [Stabs herself.] there rest, and let me die. [Falls on ROMEO's body, and dies. Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS. Page. This is the place; there, where the torch doth

burn.