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And if a man did need a poison now,
Who calls so loud?
Rom. Come hither, man.-I see that thou art poor; Hold, there is forty ducats; let me have
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding gear
And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.
Ap. Such mortal drugs I have: but Mantua's law
Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law.
Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter FRIAR JOHN.
John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!
Enter FRIAR LAURENCE.
Lau. This same should be the voice of friar John. Welcome from Mantua; what says Romeo? Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. John. Going to find a barefoot brother out, One of our order to associate me,
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the town,
Lau. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come,
Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb! [Exit.
SCENE III. A Church-yard; in it a Monument belonging to the Capulets.
Enter PARIS, and his Page, bearing flowers and a torch.
Par. Give me my torch, boy. Hence, and stand aloof;— Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along, Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; So shall no foot upon the church-yard tread, (Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,) But thou shalt hear it; whistle then to me, As signal that thou hear'st something approach. Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the church-yard; yet I will adventure. [Retires. Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy bridal bed. Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain
The perfect model of eternity;
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,
That living honored thee, and, being dead,
With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb! [The boy whistles.
o cross my obsequies, and true-love's rites?
What, with a torch!-muffle me, night, a while. [Retires.
Give me the light. Upon thy life, I charge thee,
But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger
In dear employment; therefore hence, be gone;—
In what I further shall intend to do,
By Heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry church-yard with thy limbs.
More fierce, and more inexorable far,
Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.
Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship.-Take thou that; Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow. Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout; His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.
Rom. Thou détestable maw, thou womb of death,
[Breaking open the door of the monument.
And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him. [Advances.
Can vengeance be pursued further than death?
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.
Rom. I must, indeed; and therefore came I hither.Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;
Fly hence and leave me;-think upon these gone;
By urging me to fury.-O, be gone!
By Heaven, I love thee better than myself;
Stay not; begone;-live, and hereafter say-
And do attach thee as a felon here.
Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy.
Page. O Lord! they fight. I will go call the watch.
Par. O, I am slain! [Falls.]-If thou be merciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
Rom. In faith, I will.-Let me peruse this face;
[Laying PARIS in the monument.
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh.-Eyes, look your last!
Enter, at the other end of the church-yard, FRIAR LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade.
Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled at graves!-Who's there? Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead?
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 skulls? as I discern,
It burneth in the Capels' monument.
Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, One that you love.
Who is it?
Fri. How long hath he been there?
Fri. Go with me to the vault.
Full half an hour.
I dare not, sir.
My master knows not but I am gone hence;