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Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know in this:
Fri. I will be brief, for my short date of breath
But, as it seems, did violence on her self.
Prince. We still have known thee for an holy man. Where's Romeo's man? what can he say to this?
Bal. I brought my mafter news of Juliet's death,
Page. He came with flowers to strew his Lady's grave,
Prince. This letter doth make good the Friar's words,
Cap. O brother Mountague, give me thy hand,
Moun. But I can give thee more,
That while Verona by that name is known,
Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lye;
Prince. A gloomy peace this morning with it brings,
The sun for forrow will not shew his head; Go hence to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished. For never was a story of more woe, Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. [Exeunt omnes.