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To grubs, and eyelesse Sculles? As I discerne,
It burneth in the Capels Monument.
Man. It doth so holy sir,
And there's my Master, one that you love.
Fri. Who is it?
Fri. How long hath he bin there?
Fri. Go with me to the Vault.
Full halfe an houre,
I dare not Sir:
My Master knowes not but I am gone hence,
If I did stay to looke on his entents.
Fri. Stay, then Ile go alone, feares comes upon me. O much I feare some ill unluckie thing.
Man. As I did sleepe under this young tree here, I dreamt my maister and another fought,
And that my Maister slew him.
Alacke, alacke, what blood is this which staines
What meane these Masterlesse, and goarie Swords
The Lady stirs.
Jul. O comfortable Frier, where's my Lord?
I do remember well where I should be:
And there I am, where is my Romeo?
Fri. I heare some noyse Lady, come from that nest
Of death, contagion, and unnaturall sleepe,
A greater power then we can contradict
Hath thwarted our entents, come, come away,
And Paris too: come Ile dispose of thee,
Stay not to question, for the watch is comming.
Jul. Go get thee hence, for I will not away.
What's here? A cup clos'd in my true loves hand?
O churle, drinke all? and left no friendly drop,
Thy lips are warme.
Enter Boy and Watch.
Watch. Lead Boy, which way?
Jul. Yea noise?
Then ile be briefe. O happy Dagger.
'Tis in thy sheath, there rust and let me die.
Boy. This is the place,
There where the Torch doth burne.
Watch. The ground is bloody,
Go some of you, who ere you find attach.
Con. Hold him in safety, till the Prince come hither.
Enter Frier, and another Watchman.
3. Wat. Here is a Frier that trembles, sighes, and weepes We tooke this Mattocke and this Spade from him, As he was comming from this Church-yard side. Con. A great suspition, stay the Frier too.
Enter the Prince.
Prin. What misadventure is so earely up, That calls our person from our mornings rest?
Enter Capulet and his Wife.
Cap. What should it be that they so shrike abroad?
Pri. What feare is this which startles in your eares?
Warme and new kil'd.
Seeke, and know how, this foule murder comes.
Wat. Here is a Frier, and Slaughter'd Romeos man, With Instruments upon them fit to open
O wife looke how our Daughter bleedes!
Pri. Come Mountague, for thou art early up To see thy Sonne and Heire, now early downe.
Moun. Alas my liege, my wife is dead to night, Griefe of my Sonnes exile hath stopt her breath : What further woe conspires against my age?
Prin. Looke: and thou shalt see.
Moun. O thou untaught, what manners in is this, To presse before thy Father to a grave?
Prin. Seale up the mouth of outrage for a while,
And know their spring, their head, their true descent,
And lead you even to death? meane time forbeare,
Fri. I am the greatest, able to doe least,
Prin. Then say at once, what thou dost know in this?
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo there dead, was husband to that Juliet,
And she there dead, that's Romeos faithfull wife :
I married them; and their stolne marriage day
Or in my Cell there would she kill her selfe.
As I intended, for it wrought on her
The forme of death. Meane time, I writ to Romeo,
The Noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.
All this I know, and to the Marriage her Nurse is privy :
Let my old life be sacrific'd, some houre before the time,
Prin. We still have knowne thee for a Holy man.
Prin. Give me the Letter, I will look on it.