Imatges de pàgina
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Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign 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 fuliet,
Why art thou yet so fair ? shall 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 will stay with thee;
And never from this palace of dim Night (30)
Depart again : Here, here will I remain,
With worms that are thy chamber-maids ; oh here
Will I set up my everlasting reft ;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-weary'd flen. Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your latt embrace ! and lips, oh you
The doors of breath, feal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
Come, bitter conduct ! come, vnsav'ry guide!
'Thou desp’rate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks my fea-sick, weary bark:
Here's to my love! oh, true apothecary!

Drinks the poison. Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. [Dies.

(30) And never from this palace of dim Night
Depart again. (Come, lie thou in my arms;
Here's to thy healih. O true apothecary !

Thy drugs are quick.)] Mr. Pope's, and some other of the worser, editions acknowledge absurdly the lines which I have put into parenthesis here; and which I have expung'd from the text, for this seaion : Romeo is made to confess the effect of the poison, before ever he has tafted it. I suppose, it hardly was so favoury that the patient should chuse to make two draughts of it. And, eight lines after thefe, we find him taking the poison in his hand, and making an apostrop.be to it ; inviting it to perform its office at once; and then, and not till then, does he clap it to his lips, or can with any probability speak of

tant force effects. Besides, Shakespeare would hardly have made Romeo drink to the healıb of his dead mitress,

Enter Friar Lawrence with lanthorn, crow, and spade.

Fri. St. Francis be my speed! how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled at graves ? who's there?

Enter Balthasar.
Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,
What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light
To grubs and eyeless sculls ? as I discern,
It burneth in the Capulets' monument.

Balth. It doth so, holy Sir,
And there's my master, one you dearly love.

Fri. Who is it?
Balth, Romeo.
Fri. How long hath he been there?
Balth. Full half an hour.
Fri. Go with me to the vault.

Balth. I dare not, Sir.
My master knows not, but I am gone hence ;
And fearfully did menace me with death,
If I did stay to look on his intents.

Fri. Stay then, I'll go alone; fear comes upon me; O, much fear some ill unlucky thing.

Balth. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
I dreamt, my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him.

Fri, Romeo!
Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this fepulchre ?
What means these masterless and

goary

swords,
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace ?
Romeo! oh pale! who else? what Paris too?
And steep'd in blood ? ah, what an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable chance ?
The lady ftirs.

[lord? Jul. [awaking.) Oh comfortable Friar, where is my i do remember well where I should be ; And there I am ; but where is Romeo ?

Fri. I hear fome noise ! Lady, come from that neft

Of

Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;
A greater Power, than we can contradict,
Hath thwarted our intents ; come, come away ;
Thy husband in thy bofom there lies dead,
And Paris too — Come, I'll dispose of thee
Among a sisterhood of holy Nuns :
Stay not to question, for the Watch is coming.
Come, go, good Juliet; I dare no longer stay. [Exit.

Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.
What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand ?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.
Oh churl, drink all, and leave 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.
Thy lips are warm.

Enter Boy and Watch.
Watch. Lead, boy, which way?
Jul. Yea, noise ?
Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!

[Finding a dagger, This is thy sheath, there rust and let me die.

[Kills herself. Boy. This is the place; there, wherethe torch doth burn. Waich. The ground is bloody. Search about the

church-yard ;
Go, some of you, whom e'er you find, attach.
Pitiful fight! here lies the County Nain,
And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead,
Who here hath lain these two days buried.
Go tell the Prince, run to the Capulets,
Raise 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.

Enter fome of the Watch, with Balthasar. 2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man, ve found him in the church-yard.

1 Watch.

up

1 Watch. Hold him in safety, till the Prince comes hither.

Enter another Watchman, with Friar Lawrence. 3

Wateh. Here is a Friar that trembles, fighs and weeps: We took this mattock and this spade from him, As he was coming from this church-yard fide. 1 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 and Lady Capulet. Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?

La. Cap. The people in the street cry, Romeo ; Some, Juliet ; and some, Paris; and all run With open out-cry tow'rd our monument.

Prince, What fear is this, which startles in your ears ?

Watch. Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain, And Romeo dead, and Juliet (dead before) Warm and new kill'd.

[comes. Prince. Search, seek, and know, how this foul murder

Watch. Here is a triar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man, With instruments upon them, fit to open Thefe dead men's tombs.

[bleeds! Cap. Oh, heav'n! oh, wife! look how our daughter This dagger hath mista'en ; for, lo! the fheath Lies empty

on the back of Montague, The point mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom.

La. Cap. Oh me, this fight of death is as a bell, That warns my

old

age to a fepulchre.

Enter Montague.
Prince. Come, Montague, for thou art early up,
To see thy son and heir now early down.

Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;
Grief of my son's exile hath stopt her breath:
What further woe conspires against my age ?
Prince. Look, and thou shalt see,

Mor. Oh, thou untaught! what manners is in this, To press before thy father to a grave ?

Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for 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 ev'n to death. Mean time forbear,
And let mischance be save to patience,
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

Fri. 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 excus’d.

Prince. Then fay at once what thou dost know in this.

Fri. I will be brief, for my Mort date of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet ;
And she, there dead, that Rom-o's faithful wife :
I married them; and their stolen marriage-day
Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death
Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city ;
For whom, and not for yba't, fuliet pined.
*You, to remove that siege of grief from her,
Betroth'd and would have married her perforce
To County Paris. Then comes the to me,
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some means
To rid her from this second marriage ;
Or, in my cell, there would the 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. Mean time I writ 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 awaking,
VOL. VIII.

E

Came

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