SCENE III. 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 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.

graves

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 rites?
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:

[Retires.

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.
Rom. Thou détestable 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!
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.
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.

[Advances.

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
Let them affright thee. - I beseech thee, youth,
Put not another sin upon my head,

By heaven, I love thee better than myself;
For I come hither arm'd against myself:

gone;

-

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. Paris falls.

Par. 0, I am slain! If thou be merciful,

Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

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 lantern, slaughter'd youth,
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence full of light.
Dead, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.

[Dies.

[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? 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 abhorrèd 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 chamber-maids; 0, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest;

And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars

From this world-wearied flesh. — Eyes, look
your
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 my sea-sick weary

bark!

Here's to my love! [Drinks.] - O true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. - Thus with a kiss I die.

last!

Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, Friar LAURENCE,

a lantern, crow, and spade.

[Dies.

Fri. L. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there?

with

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 Capels' monument.

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

Fri. L.

Bal.

Who is it?

Romeo.

Fri. L. How long hath he been there?

Bal.

Full half an hour.

Fri. L. Go with me to the vault.

I dare not, sir:

Bal.
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.

Fear comes upon me;

Fri. L. Stay, then; I'll go alone.
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.

Romeo!

Fri. L.
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?

Romeo! O, pale!

[Advances.

[Enters the monument.

Who else? what, Paris too?

And steep'd in blood? - Ah, what an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable chance!

The lady stirs.

Jul. O comfortable friar! where's my lord?

I do remember well where I should be,
And there I am: - where is my Romeo?

[Juliet wakes.

[Noise within.

Lady, come from that nest

Fri. L. I hear some noise.
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 L. 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 leave no friendly drop