Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, News from Verona !-How now, Balthasar? Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper, And hire post-horses; and I will hence to-night. Bal. I do be seech you, sir, have patience. Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure. Rom. Tush, thou art deceiv'd. No matter get thee gone, And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight. [Exit BALTHASAR. O, mischief! thou art swift Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou may'st 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.-A Church-yard; 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 Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. Par. Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal-bed I strew: O woe, thy canopy is dust and stones,' 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 Bl. 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. Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth, [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,— [Advances. Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague. Rom. I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man, Fly hence and leave me ;-t -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 commiseration, 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 Page. Par. O, I am slain! [Falls.]-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 lanthern, 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: 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, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you [Dies. Enter, at the other end of the church-yard, Friar LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade. Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft tonight [there? Have my old feet stumbled at graves!-Who's Bal. 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 this light Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, Fri. 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; 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. 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? Is guilty of this lamentable chance !And steep'd in blood?-Ah, what an unkind hour !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 * Conductor. U Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep; O churl drink all; and left no friendly drop, I 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; [Stubs herself.] there rust, and let me die. [Falls on ROMEO's body and dies. END OF THE TRAGEDIES AND HISTORICAL PLAYS. BILLING, PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER, GUILDFORD, SURREY. |