The Same. A Churchyard; in it a Monument belonging to the CAPULETS.  | 
|    | 
Enter PARIS, and his Page, bearing flowers and a torch.  | 
|   Par.  Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof; | 
| Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. | 
| Under yond 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.  [Aside.] I am almost afraid to stand alone | 
| Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.  [Retires. | 
|   Par.  Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew, | 
| O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones; | 
| Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, | 
| Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans: | 
| The obsequies that I for thee will keep | 
| Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.  [The Page 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, awhile.  [Retires. | 
|    | 
Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, 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, be gone: | 
| 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. | 
|   Rom.  So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that: | 
| Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow. | 
|   Bal.  [Aside.] For all this same, I'll hide me here about: | 
| His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.  [Retires. | 
|   Rom.  Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, | 
| Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth, | 
| Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,  [Opens the tomb. | 
| 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.—  [Comes forward. | 
| Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague, | 
| Can vengeance be pursu'd 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, | 
| Put not another sin upon my head | 
| By urging me to fury: O! be gone: | 
| By heaven, I love thee better than myself. | 
| For I come hither arm'd against myself: | 
| Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say | 
| A madman's mercy bade thee run away. | 
|   Par.  I do defy thy conjurations, | 
| And apprehend thee for 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. | 
|   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? O! 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 lanthorn, 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 tomb. | 
| How oft when men are at the point of death | 
| Have they been merry! which their keepers call | 
| A lightning before death: O! how may I | 
| Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! | 
| Death, that hathsuck'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 LAURENCE, with a lanthorn, crow, and spade.  | 
|   Fri. L.  Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night | 
| Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there? | 
|   Bal.  Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well. | 
|   Fri. L.  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 Capel's monument. | 
|   Bal.  It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, | 
| One that you love. | 
|   Fri. L.        Who is it? | 
|   Bal.        Romeo. | 
|   Fri. L.  How long hath he been there? | 
|   Bal.        Full half an hour. | 
|   Fri. L.  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. L.  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. L.        [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 tomb. | 
| 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. | 
|   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. L.  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. | 
|   Jul.  Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.  [Exit FRIAR LAURENCE. | 
| What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand? | 
| Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. | 
| O churl! drunk all, and left 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.  [Kisses him. | 
| Thy lips are warm! | 
|   First Watch.  [Within.] Lead, boy: which way? | 
|   Jul.  Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!  [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. | 
|   First Watch.  The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard. | 
| Go, some of you; whoe'er you find, attach.  [Exeunt some of the Watch. | 
| Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain, | 
| And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, | 
| Who here hath lain these two days buried. | 
| Go, tell the prince, run to the Capulets, | 
| Raise up the Montagues, some others search:  [Exeunt others of the Watch. | 
| We see the ground whereon these woes do lie; | 
| But the true ground of all these piteous woes | 
| We cannot without circumstance descry. | 
|    | 
Re-enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR.  | 
|   Sec. Watch.  Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard. | 
|   First Watch.  Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither. | 
|    | 
Re-enter other of the Watch, with FRIAR LAURENCE.  | 
|   Third Watch.  Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and weeps; | 
| We took this mattock and this spade from him, | 
| As he was coming from this churchyard side. | 
|   First Watch.  A great suspicion: stay the friar too. | 
|    | 
Enter the PRINCE and Attendants.  | 
|   Prince.  What misadventure is so early up, | 
| That calls our person from our morning's rest? | 
|    | 
Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and Others.  | 
|   Cap.  What should it be, that they so shriek abroad? | 
|   Lady Cap.  The people in the street cry Romeo, | 
| Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run | 
| With open outcry toward our monument. | 
|   Prince.  What fear is this which startles in our ears? | 
|   First Watch.  Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain; | 
| And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, | 
| Warm and new kill'd. | 
|   Prince.  Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. | 
|   First Watch.  Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man; | 
| With instruments upon them, fit to open | 
| These dead men's tombs. | 
|   Cap.  O, heaven!—O wife! look how our daughter bleeds! | 
| This dagger hath mista'en!—for, lo, his house | 
| Is empty on the back of Montague— | 
| And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom. | 
|   Lady Cap.  O me! this sight of death is as a bell, | 
| That warns my old age to a sepulchre. | 
|   Cap.  O, heaven!—O wife! look how our daughter bleeds! | 
| This dagger hath mista'en!—for, lo, his house | 
| Is empty on the back of Montague— | 
| And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom. | 
|   Lady Cap.  O me! this sight of death is as a bell, | 
| That warns my old age to a sepulchre. | 
|    | 
Enter MONTAGUE and Others.  | 
|   Prince.  Come, Montague: for thou art early up, | 
| To see thy son and heir more early down. | 
|   Mon.  Alas! my liege, my wife is dead to-night; | 
| Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath. | 
| What further woe conspires against mine age? | 
|   Prince.  Look, and thou shalt see. | 
|   Mon.  O thou untaught! what manners is in this, | 
| To press before thy father to a grave? | 
|   Prince.  Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, | 
| Till we can clear these ambiguities, | 
| And know their spring, their head, their true descent; | 
| And then will I be general of your woes, | 
| And lead you even to death: meantime forbear, | 
| And let mischance be slave to patience. | 
| Bring forth the parties of suspicion. | 
|   Fri. L.  I am the greatest, able to do least, | 
| Yet most suspected, as the time and place | 
| Doth make against me, of this direful murder; | 
| And here I stand, both to impeach and purge | 
| Myself condemned and myself excus'd. | 
|   Prince.  Then say at once what thou dost know in this. | 
|   Fri. L.  I will be brief, for my short date of breath | 
| Is not so long as is a tedious tale. | 
| Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; | 
| And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife: | 
| I married them; and their stolen marriage-day | 
| Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death | 
| Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city; | 
| For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd. | 
| You, to remove that siege of grief from her, | 
| Betroth'd, and would have married her perforce, | 
| To County Paris: then comes she to me, | 
| And, with wild looks bid me devise some mean | 
| To rid her from this second marriage, | 
| Or in my cell there would she kill herself. | 
| Then gave I her,—so tutor'd by my art,— | 
| A sleeping potion; which so took effect | 
| As I intended, for it wrought on her | 
| The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo | 
| That he should hither come as this dire night, | 
| To help to take her from her borrow'd grave, | 
| Being the time the potion's force should cease. | 
| But he which bore my letter, Friar John, | 
| Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight | 
| Return'd my letter back. Then, all alone, | 
| At the prefixed hour of her waking, | 
| Came I to take her from her kindred's vault, | 
| Meaning to keep her closely at my cell, | 
| Till I conveniently could send to Romeo: | 
| But, when I came,—some minute ere the time | 
| Of her awakening,—here untimely lay | 
| The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. | 
| She wakes; and I entreated her come forth, | 
| And bear this work of heaven with patience; | 
| But then a noise did scare me from the tomb, | 
| And she, too desperate, would not go with me, | 
| But, as it seems, did violence on herself. | 
| All this I know; and to the marriage | 
| Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this | 
| Miscarried by my fault, let my old life | 
| Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time, | 
| Unto the rigour of severest law. | 
|   Prince.  We still have known thee for a holy man. | 
| Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this? | 
|   Bal.  I brought my master news of Juliet's death; | 
| And then in post he came from Mantua | 
| To this same place, to this same monument. | 
| This letter he early bid me give his father, | 
| And threaten'd me with death, going in the vault, | 
| If I departed not and left him there. | 
|   Prince.  Give me the letter; I will look on it. | 
| Where is the county's page that rais'd the watch? | 
| Sirrah, what made your master in this place? | 
|   Page.  He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave, | 
| And bid me stand aloof, and so I did; | 
| Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb; | 
| And by and by my master drew on him; | 
| And then I ran away to call the watch. | 
|   Prince.  This letter doth make good the friar's words, | 
| Their course of love, the tidings of her death: | 
| And here he writes that he did buy a poison | 
| Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal | 
| Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. | 
| Where be these enemies?—Capulet! Montague! | 
| See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, | 
| That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love; | 
| And I, for winking at your discords too, | 
| Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd. | 
|   Cap.  O brother Montague! give me thy hand: | 
| This is my daughter's jointure, for no more | 
| Can I demand. | 
|   Mon.        But I can give thee more; | 
| For I will raise her statue in pure gold; | 
| That while Verona by that name is known. | 
| There shall no figure at such rate be set | 
| As that of true and faithful Juliet. | 
|   Cap.  As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie; | 
| Poor sacrifices of our enmity! | 
|   Prince.  A glooming peace this morning with it brings; | 
| The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: | 
| Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things: | 
| Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: | 
| For never was a story of more woe | 
| Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.  [Exeunt. | 
Design © 1995-2007 ZeFLIP.com All rights reserved.