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And steep'd in blood?—Ah, what an unkind hour
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. [Ereunt 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;- [Ereunt 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.
1 Watch." 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.
Cup. 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; 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. Cap. O, heavens!—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. La. Cap. O me! this sight of death is as a bell, That warns my old age to a sepulchre.
Enter Mo NTAGUE 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: Mean time forbear, And let mischance be slave to patience.— Bring forth the parties of suspicion. Fri. 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. 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 dooms-day, whose untimely death