The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Bal. Here's one a friend, and one that Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:
knows you well.
O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop
To help me after? I will kiss thy lips;
Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restorative.

Fri. L. Bliss be upon you! my friend,

Tell me, good

What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light
To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,
It burneth in the Capels' monument.

Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my

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.

Romeo!

Fri. L. [Advances. Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains The stony entrance of this sepulchre? 141 What mean these masterless and gory swords To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? [Enters the tomb. 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. Jul. O comfortable friar! where is my lord?

I do remember well where I should be,
And there I am. Where is my Romeo? 150
[Noise within.
Fri. L. I hear some noise. Lady, come

Thy lips are warm.

[Kisses him.

First 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 [Stabs herself]; there rust, and let me die.

170

[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.

First Watch. The ground is bloody; search

about the churchyard:

Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach.
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:
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
But the true ground of all these piteous woes
We cannot without circumstance descry. 181
Re-enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR.
Sec. Watch. Here's Romeo's man; we
found him in the churchyard.

First Watch. Hold him in safety, till the
prince come hither.

Re-enter others of the Watch, with FRIAR LAURENCE.

Third 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. First 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?

190

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?

First 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.

First Watch. Here is a friar, and slaugh-
tered Romeo's man;

With instruments upon them, fit to open 200
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 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;
210
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?

For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.
You, to remove that siege of grief from her.
Betroth'd and would have married her per-
force

To County Paris: then comes she to me,
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some

mean

241

To rid her from this second marriage,
Or in my cell there would she kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
A sleeping potion; which so took effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her
The form of death: meantime I writ to
Romeo,

That he should hither come as this dire night,
To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
Being the time the potion's force should cease.
But he which bore my letter, Friar John, 250
Was stay'd 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 kindred's vault;
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:
But when I came, some minute ere the time
Of her awaking, here untimely lay
The noble Paris and true Romeo dead.
She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heaven with patience;
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;

Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for And she, too desperate, would not go with 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: meantime for-
bear,
220

And let mischance be slave to patience.
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

Fri. L. 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 excused.
Prince. Then say at once what thou dost
know in this.

Fri. L. I will be brief, for my short date of breath

me,

But, as it seems, did violence on herself.
All this I know; and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrificed, some hour before his time,
Unto the rigour of severest law.

Prince. We still have known thee for a
holy man.

270 Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this?

Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's

death;

And by and by my master drew on him; And then I ran away to call the watch. Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's words,

289

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 lie with Juliet.
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Mon-
tague!

See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven 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 Montague, give me thy hand:

This is my daughter's jointure, for no more

See,

Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows. Poet. Ay, that's well known: But what particular rarity? what strange, Which manifold record not matches? Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant.

Pain. I know them both; th' other's a jeweller.

Mer. O, 'tis a worthy lord.
Jew.

Nay, that's most fix'd. Mer. A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were,

To an untirable and continuate goodness:
He passes.

Jew. I have a jewel here-
Mer. O, pray, let's see 't: for the Lord
Timon, sir?

Jen. If he will touch the estimate: but, for that

Poet. [Reciting to himself] 'When we for recompense have praised the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good.'

Mer.

'Tis a good form. [Looking at the jewel.

CAPHIS,

PHILOTUS,

TITUS,

servants to Timon's

LUCIUS,

creditors.

HORTENSIUS,

And others,

A Page. A Fool. Three Strangers.

PHRYNIA,

TIMANDRA,

mistresses to Alcibiades.

Cupid and Amazons in the mask. Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Banditti, and Attendants. SCENE: Athens, and the neighboring woods.

Jew. And rich: here is a water, look ye. Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication

To the great lord.

Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. 20 Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame Provokes itself and like the current flies Each bound it chafes. What have you there? Pain. A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?

Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir, Let's see your piece.

Pain.

'Tis a good piece.

Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and ex

Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet. I will unbolt to you. You see how all conditions, how all minds, As well of glib and slippery creatures as Of grave and austere quality, tender down Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune Upon his good and gracious nature hanging Subdues and properties to his love and tendance All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer

To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor himself: even he drops down The knee before him and returns in peace Most rich in Timon's nod.

Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,

Not one accompanying his declining foot. Pain. 'Tis common:

A thousand moral paintings I can show
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of
Fortune's

More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have

seen

The foot above the head. Trumpets sound. Enter LORD TIMON, addressing himself courteously to every suitor; a Messenger from VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other servants following. Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you? Mess. Ay, my good lord: five talents is his

His means most short, his creditors most strait: debt,

Your honourable letter he desires
To those have shut him up; which failing,
Periods his comfort.

Tim.

Noble Ventidius!

I am not of that feather to shake off

Well;

100

My friend when he must need me. I do know

him

Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and A gentleman that well deserves a help:

free him.

Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride,

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