Farewel, buy food, and get thee into flesh.
Come, cordial, and not poifon; go with me
To Juliet's grave, for there muft I ufe thee. [Exeunt.
Changes to the Monaftery at Verona.
VOLY Francifcan Friar! brother! ho!
Enter Friar Lawrence to him.
Law. This fame fhould be the voice of Friar John.Welcome from Mantua; what fay's Romeo? Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. John. Going to find a bare-foot brother out, One of our Order, to affociate me,
Here in this city vifiting the fick
And finding him, the Searchers of the town,
Sufpecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious peftilence did reign,
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;
So that my speed to Mantua there was staid.
Law. Who bore my letter then to Romeo?
John. I could not fend it; here it is again;
Nor get a Meffenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.
Law. Unhappy fortune! by my Brotherhood,
The letter was not nice, but full of charge
Of dear import; and the neglecting it
May do much danger. Friar John, go hence,
Get me an iron Crow, and bring it straight
Law. Now muft I to the Monument alone,
Within these three hours will fair Juliet wake;
She will befhrew me much, that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents.
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell 'till Romeo come.
Poor living coarfe, clos'd in a dead man's tomb!·
Changes to a Churchyard; in it, a Monument belonging to the Capulets.
Enter Paris, and his Page, with a light.
Par. GIVE me thy torch, boy; hence and stand
put it out, for I would not be feen.
Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
Laying thy ear close to the hollow ground,
So fhall no foot upon the church-yard tread,
Being loofe, unfirm, with digging up of Graves,
But thou shalt hear it whistle then to me,
As fignal that thou hear'ft fomething approach.
Give me thofe flow'rs. Do as I bid thee. Go.
Page. I am almoft afraid to ftand alone
Here in the church-yard, yet I will adventure. [Exit.
Par. Sweet flow'r! with flow'rs thy bridle bed I
[Strewing flowers. Fair Juliet, that with angels daft remain,
Sweet flow'r, with flow'rs thy bridal bed I firew:
Owoe! thy canopy is duft and ftones,
Which with fweet water nightly I will dew,
Or wanting that, with tears diftill'd by moans.
The obfequies which I for thee will keep,
Nightly fhall be to ftrew thy grave, and weep.
VOL. VIII.
Accept this lateft favour at my hand;
That living honour'd thee, and, being dead,
With fun❜ral obfequies adorn thy tomb.
[The boy whistles. -The boy gives warning, fomething doth approach.
What curfed foot wanders this way to-night.
To cross my Obfequies, and true love's rite?
What, with a torch? Muffle me, night, a while.
Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching iron.
Hold, take this letter, early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my Lord and father.
Give me the light. Upon thy life, I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'ft or feeft, ftand all aloof,
And do not interrupt me in my courfe.
Why I defcend into this bed of death,
Is partly to behold my lady's face;
But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger
A precious ring, a ring that I muft ufey
In dear employment. Therefore hence. Be gone:
But if thou, jealous, doft return to pry
On what I further fhall intend to do,darbara A
100 y 12
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
And ftrew this hungry church-yard with thy limbs,
The time and my intents are favage, wild,
More fierce and more inexorable far
Than empty tygers, or the roaring fea.
dear employment.] That were fuppofed to have great
¿e, action of importance. Gems powers and virtues.
Balth. I will be gone, Sir, and not trouble you.
Rom. So fhalt thou fhew me Friendship.
Live and be profp'rous, and farewel, good fellow.
Balth. For all this fame, I'll hide me hereabout. His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Exit Balth. Rom. Thou deteftable maw, thou womb of death, Gorg'd with the deareft morfel of the earth, Thus I inforce thy rotten jaws to open,
[Breaking up the Monument,
And in defpight I'll cram thee with more food.
Par. This is that banifh'd haughty Montague,
That murder'd my love's coufin; with which grief,
It is fuppofed, the fair Creature dy'd,
And here is come to do fome villainous fhame
To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him.
Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague,
Can vengeance be purfu'd further than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee;
Obey, and go with me, for thou must die.
Rom. I muft, indeed, and therefore came I hither.
Good gentle youth, tempt not a defp'rate man;
Fly hence and leave me. Think upon thefe gone,
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
Pull not another fin upon my head,
By urging me to fury. O be gone!
By heav'n, I love thee better than myself,
For I come hither arm'd against myself.
Stay not, be gone. Live, and hereafter fay,
A madman's Mercy bade thee run away.
Par. I do defy thy commiferation,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.
Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee,
[They fight, Paris falls,
Page. Oh Lord, they fight! I will go call the
Par. Oh, I am flain; if thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
I 2
Rom. In faith, I will. Let me perufe this face
Mercutio's kinfman; Noble County Paris!
What faid my man, when my betoffed foul
Did not attend him as we rode ? I think,
He told me, Paris fhould have married Juliet.
Said he not fo? or did I dream it fo?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To think it was fo? Oh give me thy hand,
One writ with me in four Misfortune's book,
I'll bury thee in a triumphant Grave.
A Grave? O, no; a Lanthorn, flaughter'd Youth
For here lies Juliet; and her beauty makes
This vault a feafting + Prefence full of Light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.
[Laying Paris in the Monument.
How oft, when Men are at the point of death,
Have they been merry? which their Keepers call
A Lightning before Death. O, how may I
Call this a Lightning!-Oh my love, my wife!
Death, that hath fuckt the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty,
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's enfign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Tybalt, ly'st thou there in thy bloody sheet?
Oh, what more favour can I do to thee,
Than with that hand, that cut thy youth in twain,
To funder his, that was thy enemy?
Forgive me, coufin.. -Ah dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet fo fair? fhall I believe
That unfubftantial death is amorous,
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark, to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I still will ftay with thee;
Prefence] A prefence
is a publick room.
50. ha may I
Call this a lightning!] I think
we fhould read,
-O, now nav I
Call this a lightning ! ·
|