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Then gave I her (so turor'd by my Art)
Pri. We still have known thee for an Holy Man.
Peter. I brought my Master News of Juliet's Death,
Pri. Give me the Letter, I will look on it.
Page. He came with Flowers to strew his Lady's Grave,
And by and by my Master drew on him,
Pri. This Letter doth make good the Friar's words,
Cap. O Brother Mountague, give me thy Hand,
Moun. But I can give thee more,
Cap. As rich thall Romed by his Lady lye,
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.
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.