Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight.
Romeo.
There is thy gold; worse poison to men'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 Lawrence's Cell.
(Enter Friar John.)
Friar John.
Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!
(Enter Friar Lawrence.)
Friar Lawrence.
This same should be the voice of Friar John.
Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
Friar 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.
Friar Lawrence.
Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?
Friar John.
I could not send it,--here it is again,--
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.
Friar Lawrence.
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.
Friar John.
Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.
(Exit.)
Friar Lawrence.
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;
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come;--
Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb!
(Exit.)
Scene III. A churchyard; in it a Monument belonging to the
Capulets.
(Enter Paris, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch.)
Paris.
Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof;--
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yond yew tree 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.)
Paris.
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.)
Romeo.
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.
Balthasar.
I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
Romeo.
So shalt thou show me friendship.--Take thou that:
Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow.
Balthasar.
For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout:
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.
(Retires.)
Romeo.
Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd 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!
Paris.
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 pursu'd further than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee;
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.
Romeo.
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 bid thee run away.
Paris.
I do defy thy conjurations,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.
Romeo.
Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!
(They fight.)
Page.
O lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.
(Exit.)
Paris.
O, I am slain! (Falls.) If thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
(Dies.)
Romeo.
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, slaught'red 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: O, how may I
Call this a lightning?--O 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 Lawrence, with
a lantern, crow, and spade.)
Friar.
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?
Balthasar.
Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.
Friar.
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.
Balthasar.
It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,
One that you love.
Friar.
Who is it?
Balthasar.
Romeo.
Friar.
How long hath he been there?
Balthasar.
Full half an hour.
Friar.
Go with me to the vault.
Balthasar.
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.
Friar.
Stay then; I'll go alone:--fear comes upon me;
O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.
Balthasar.
As I did sleep under this yew tree here,
I dreamt my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him.
Friar.
Romeo! (Advances.)
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.)
Juliet.
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.)
Friar.
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 within),--I dare no longer stay.
Juliet.
Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.--
(Exit Friar Lawrence.)
What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:--
O churl! drink 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!
1 Watch.
(Within.) Lead, boy:--which way?
Juliet.
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.
1 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 this 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.)
2 Watch.
Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard.
1 Watch.
Hold him in safety till the prince come hither.
(Re-enter others of the Watch with Friar Lawrence.)
3 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.
1 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.)
Capulet.
What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?
Lady Capulet.
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?
1 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.
1 Watch.
Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man,
With instruments upon them fit to open
These dead men's tombs.
Capulet.
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 it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom!
Lady Capulet.
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.
Montague.
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.
Montague.
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,
