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?

Man. Romeo.

Fri. How long hath he bin there?
Man.

Fri. Go with me to the Vault.
Man.

Full halfe an houre,

I dare not Sir:

My Master knowes not but I am gone hence,
And fearefully did menace me with death,

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
The stony entrance of this Sepulcher?

What meane these Masterlesse, and goarie Swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?
Romeo, oh pale: who else? what Paris too?
And steept in blood? Ah what an unkind houre
Is guiltie of this lamentable chance?

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,
Thy husband in thy bosome there lies dead :

And Paris too: come Ile dispose of thee,
Among a Sisterhood of holy Nunnes :

Stay not to question, for the watch is comming.
Come, go good Juliet, I dare no longer stay.

Jul. Go get thee hence, for I will not away.

What's here? A cup clos'd in my true loves hand?
Poyson I see hath bin his timelesse end

O churle, drinke all? and left no friendly drop,
To helpe me after, I will kisse thy lips,
Happlie some poyson yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restorative.

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,
Search about the Churchyard.

Go some of you, who ere you find attach.
Pittifull sight, here lies the Countie slaine,
And Juliet bleeding, warme and newly dead
Who here hath laine these two dayes buried.
Go tell the Prince, runne to the Capulets,
Raise up the Mountagues, some others search,
We see the ground whereon these woes do lye,
But the true ground of all these piteous woes,
We cannot without circumstance descry.

Exit.

Kils herselfe.

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?
Wife. O the people in the streete crie Romeo,
Some Juliet, and some Paris, and all runne
With open outcry toward our Monument.

Pri. What feare is this which startles in your eares?
Wat. Soveraigne, here lies the Countie Paris slaine,
And Romeo dead, and Juliet dead before,

Warme and new kil'd.

Prin. Search,

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!
This Dagger hath mistaine, for loe his house
Is empty on the backe of Mountague,
And is missheathed in my Daughters bosome.
Wife. O me, this sight of death, is as a Bell
That warnes my old age to a Sepulcher.

Enter Mountague.

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,
Till we can cleare these ambiguities,

And know their spring, their head, their true descent,
And then will I be generall of your woes,

And lead you even to death? meane time forbeare,
And let mischance be slave to patience,
Bring forth the parties of suspition.

Fri. I am the greatest, able to doe least,
Yet most suspected as the time and place
Doth make against me of this direfull murther:
And heere I stand both to impeach and purge
My selfe condemned, and my selfe excus'd.

Prin. Then say at once, what thou dost know in this?
Fri. I will be briefe, for my short 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's Romeos faithfull wife :

I married them; and their stolne marriage day
Was Tybalts Doomesday: whose untimely death
Banish'd the new-made Bridegroome from this Citie :
For whom (and not for Tybalt) Juliet pinde.
You, to remove that siege of Greefe from her,
Betroth'd, and would have married her perforce
To Countie Paris. Then comes she to me,
And (with wilde lookes) bid me devise some meanes
To rid her from this second Marriage,

Or in my Cell there would she kill her selfe.
Then gave I her (so Tutor'd by my Art)
A sleeping Potion, which so tooke effect

As I intended, for it wrought on her

The forme of death. Meane time, I writ to Romeo,
That he should hither come, as this dyre night,
To helpe to take her from her borrowed grave,
Being the time the Potions force should cease.
But he which bore my Letter, Frier John,
Was stay'd by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my Letter backe. Then all alone,
At the prefixed houre of her waking,
Came I to take her from her Kindreds vault,
Meaning to keepe her closely at my Cell,
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo.
But when I came (some Minute ere the time
Of her awaking) heere untimely lay

The Noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.
Shee wakes, and I intreated her come foorth,
And beare this worke of Heaven, with patience:
But then, a noyse did scarre me from the Tombe,
And she (too desperate) would not go with me,
But (as it seemes) did violence on her selfe.

All this I know, and to the Marriage her Nurse is privy :
And if ought in this miscarried by my fault,

Let my old life be sacrific'd, some houre before the time,
Unto the rigour of severest Law.

Prin. We still have knowne thee for a Holy man.
Where's Romeo's man? What can he say to this?
Boy. I brought my Master newes of Juliets death,
And then in poste he came from Mantua
To this same place, to this same Monument.
This Letter he early bid me give his Father,
And threatned me with death, going in the Vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.

Prin. Give me the Letter, I will look on it.
Where is the Counties Page that rais'd the Watch?
Sirra, what made your Master in this place?