a a Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you [Dies. Enter, at the other End of the Churchyard, Friar LAURENCE, with a Lantern, Crow, and Spade. Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled atgraves ?3_Who's there? Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead #4 Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows 1 you well. Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, , Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, you love. Fri. Who is it? Romeo. Full half an hour. I dare not, sir : 2 ' A dateless bargain to engrossing death!] Engrossing seems. to be used here in its clerical sense. . Come, bitter conduct,] Conduct for conductor. 3 Have my old feet stumbled at graves?] This accident was reckoned ominous. Who is it, &c.] To consort, is to keep company with. 5 If I did stay to look on his intents. alone :Fear comes upon me ; 0, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here, Romeo ? — [Advances. [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 ? I [Noise within. Fri. I hear some noise.—Lady, come from that nest а s I dreamt my master and another fought,] This is one of the touches of nature that would have escaped the hand of any painter less attentive to it than Shakspeare. What happens to a person while he is under the manifest influence of fear, will seem to him, when he is recovered from it, like a dream. Homer, Book 8th, represents Rhesus dying fast asleep, and as it were beholding his enemy in a dream plunging a sword into his bosom, Eustathius and Dacier both applaud this image as very natural; for a man in such a condition, says Mr. Pope, awakes no further than to see confusedly what environs him, and to think it not a reality, but a visioa. a And Paris too; come, I'll dispose of thee [Erit. [Kisses him. Thy lips are warm ! i Watch. [lVithin.] Lead, hoy :-Which way? Jul. Yea, noise :- then I'll be brief.- happy dagger! (Snatching Romeo's Dagger. This is thy sheath ; [Stabs herself.] there rust, 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, who e'er you find, attach. [Exeunt some. 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 other Watchmen. We see the ground whereon these woes do lie; But the true ground of all these piteous woes, We cannot without circumstance descry. Enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR, 2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man, we found him in the churchyard. iWatch. Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither. Enter another Watchman, with Friar LAURENCE. 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. Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad: La. 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? 1 Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris slain ; And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, murder comes. 1 Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man ; K our Cap. O, heavens !-0, wife! look how daughter bleeds ! La. 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 exíle 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, Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least, . This dagger hath mista'en, for, lo! kis house And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom.] Shakspeare quaintly represents the dagger as having mistaken its place, and “ it mis-sheathed," i. e. “ mis-sheathed itself” in the bosom of Juliet. It appears that the dagger was anciently worn behind the back. |