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Then gave I her (so turor'd by my Art)
A feeping Potion, which fo took effe&
As I intended, for it wrought on her
The form of Death. Mean time I write to Romeo,
That he should hither come, as this dire Night,
To help to take her from her borrowed Grave,
Being the time the Potion's force should cease.
But he which bore my Letter, Friar John,
Was staid by Accident, and yesternight
Return'd my Letter back; then all alone,
At the prefixed Hour of her waking,
Came I to take her from her Kindreds Vault,
Meaning to keep her closely at my Cell,
'Till I conveniently could send to Romeo.
But when I came (fome Minute e'er the time
Of her waking) here untimely lay
The Noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.
She wakes, and I intreat her to come forth,
And bear this work of Heav'n with Patience:
But then a Noise did scare me from the Tomb,
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
But, as it seems, did Violence on her felf.
All this I know, and to the Marriage her Nurse is privy:
If ought in this miscarried by my fault,
Let my old Life be sacrific'd, fome Hour before the time,
Unto the Rigour of feverest Law.

Pri. We still have known thee for an Holy Man.
Where's Romeo's Man? What can he say to this

Peter. I brought my Master News of Juliet's Death,
And then in Poft he came from Mantua
To this fame Place, to this fame Monument.
This Letter he early bid me give his Father,
And threatned me with Death, going in the Vaule,
If i departed not, and left him there.

Pri. Give me the Letter, I will look on it.
Where is the County's Page that rais'd the Watch
Sirrah, what made your Master in this place?

Page. He came with Flowers to strew his Lady's Grave,
And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:
Anon comes one with light to ope the Tomb,


And by and by my Master drew on him,
And then I ran away to call the Watch.

Pri. This Letter doth make good the Friar's words,
Their Course of Love, the tidings of her Death:
And here he writes, that he did buy a Poison
Of a poor 'Pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this Vault to die, and lye with Juliet.
Where be these Enemies? Capulet, Mountague,
See what a Scourge is laid upon your Hate,
That Heav'n finds means to kill your Joys with Love;
And I, for winking at your Discords too,
Have lost a brace of Kinsmen: All are punish'd.

Cap. O Brother Mountague, give me thy Hand,
This is my Daughter's Jointure; for no more
Can I demand.

Moun. But I can give thee more,
For I will raise her Statue in pure Gold,
That while Verona by that Name is known,
There shall no Figure at that rate be set,
As that of true and faithful Juliet.

Cap. As rich thall Romed by his Lady lye,
Poor Sacrifices of our Enmity.

Pri. A gloomy Peace this Morning with it brings, The Sun for Sorrow will not shew his Head; Go hence to have more talk of these fad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished. For never was a Story of more Wo, Than this of Juliet, and her Romeo. Exeunt omnis.

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WO Housholds, both alike in Dignity,

(In fair Verona, where we lay our Scene) From antient Grudge, break to new Mutiny,

Where Civil Blood makes Civil Hands unclean: From forth the fatal Loins of these two Foes,

A pair of Star-crossd Lovers take their Life; Whose mis-adventur'd pitious Overthrows,

Do, with their Death, bury their Parents Strife. The fearful Pasage of their Death-mark'd Love,

And the Continuance of their Parents Rage, Which but their Childrens End nought could remove,

Is now the two Hours Traffick of our Stage. The which, if you with patient Ears attend, What bere shall miss, our Toil Mall frive to mend.

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