« PreviousContinue »
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?
Full half an hour.
Fri. How long hath he been there?
Fri. Go with me to the vault.
I dare not, sir.
My master knows not but I am gone hence;
If I did stay to look on his intents.
Fri. Stay, then, I'll go alone.-Fear comes upon me; O, much I fear some ill, unlucky thing.
Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
I dreamed my master and another fought,2
And that my master slew him.
Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
[Enters the monument. Romeo! O, pale!-Who else? what, Paris too?
1 This accident was reckoned ominous.
2 This was one of the touches of nature that would have escaped the hand of any painter less attentive to it than Shakspeare. What happens to a person while he is under the manifest influence of fear, will seem to him, when he is recovered from it, like a dream.
And steeped in blood! Ah, what an unkind hour
The lady stirs.
[JULIET wakes, and stirs. Jul. O comfortable friar! where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be,
And there I am.-Where is my Romeo?
Fri. I hear some noise.-Lady, come from that nes. Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;
A greater power than we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away.
Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;
And Paris too; come, I'll dispose of thee
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.
Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them,
Thy lips are warm!
I Watch. [Within.] Lead, boy.-Which way?
[Snatching ROMEO's dagger. This is thy sheath. [Stabs herself.] There rust, and let me die.1 [Falls on ROMEO's body, and dies.
Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS.
Page. This is the place; there, where the torch doth
1 Watch. The ground is bloody; search about the church-yard:
1 Thus the quarto of 1599. That of 1597 reads:-
Oh, happy dagger! thou shalt end my fear;
Go, some of you, whoe'er you find, attach.
Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
Enter some of the Watch, with BALTHAZAR.
2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the church-yard.
1 Watch. Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither.
Enter another watchman, with FRIAR LAUREnce.
3 Watch. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and weeps.
We took this mattock and this spade from him,
Enter the Prince and Attendants.
Prince. What misadventure is so early up, That calls our person from our morning's rest?
Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and others.
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 outcry, toward our monument.
Prince. What fear is this, which startles in our ears? 1 Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris slain;
And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,
Prince. Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.
1 Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughtered Romeo's
With instruments upon them, fit to open
Cap O Heavens!-O wife! look how our daughter bleeds!
This dagger hath mista'en,—for lo! his house
And is missheathed in my daughter's bosom.1
Enter MONTAGUE and others.
Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early up, To see thy son and heir more early down.
Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; Grief of my son's exile hath stopped her breath. What further woe conspires against mine age? Prince. Look, and thou shalt see.
Mon. O 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 lead you even to death. Mean time forbear,
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet most suspected, as the time and place
1 The words," for lo! his house is empty on the back of Montague," are to be considered parenthetical. It appears that the dagger was anciently worn behind the back.
2 After this line, the quarto of 1597 adds:
"And young Benvolio is deceased too."
Doth make against me, of this direful murder;
Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know in this.
Fri. I will be brief, for my short date of breath
Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;
The form of death; meantime I writ to Romeo,