Rom.
Give me that mattock, and the wrenching iron.
Hold, take this letter, early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
Give me the light; upon thy life, I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I descend into this bed of death,
Is partly to behold my lady's face:
But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger
A precious ring, a ring that I must use
In dear employment; therefore, hence, be gone:
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
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;
The time and my intents are savage, wild,
More fierce and more inexorable far
Than empty tygers, or the roaring sea.

Balth.
I will be gone, Sir, and not trouble you.

Rom.
So shalt thou shew me Friendship.—Take thou that;
Live and be prosp'rous, and farewel, good fellow.

Balth.
For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout;
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Exit Balth.

Rom.
Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, [Breaking open the Monument.
And in despight I'll cram thee with more food.

Par.
This is that banisht haughty Montague,
That murther'd my love's cousin; (with which grief,
It is supposed, the fair Creature dy'd,)

And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.
Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague:
Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee;
Obey, and go with me, for thou must die.

Rom.
I must, indeed, and therefore came I hither.—
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desp'rate man;
Fly hence and leave me: think upon these gone,
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
Pull not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury. Oh be gone!
By heav'n, I love thee better than my self;
For I come hither arm'd against my self.
Stay not, begone; live, and hereafter say,
A madman's Mercy bade thee run away.

Par.
I do defie thy commiseration,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.

Rom.
Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy. [They fight, Paris falls.

Page.
Oh lord, they fight! I will go call the Watch.

Par.
Oh, I am slain; if thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies.

Rom.
In faith, I will: let me peruse this face—
Mercutio's kinsman! Noble County Paris!
What said my man, when my betossed soul
Did not attend him as we rode? I think,
He told me, Paris should have married Juliet.
Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To think it was so? Oh give me thy hand,
One writ with me in four Misfortune's book,
I'll bury thee in a triumphant Grave.
A Grave? O no; a Lanthorn, slaughter'd Youth;
For here lyes Juliet; and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting Presence full of Light.

Death, lye thou there, by a dead man interr'd:— [Laying Paris in the Monument.
How oft, when Men are at the point of Death,
Have they been merry? which their Keepers call
A Lightning before Death.—O, how may I
Call this a Lightning!—O my love, my wife!
Death, that hath suckt the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
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 sunder his, that was thy enemy?
Forgive me, cousin.—Ah dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous,
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark, to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;
And never from this Palace of dim night
Depart again: Here, here will I remain,
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; oh here
Will I set up my everlasting Rest;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-weary'd flesh. Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, oh you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
Come, bitter conduct! come, unsav'ry guide!
Thou desp'rate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks my sea-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.

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.

Balth.
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 I 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 sepulchre?
What mean these masterless and goary swords,
To lye 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 stirs.

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

Fri.
I hear some noise! Lady, come from that nest
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 lyes dead,
And Paris too—Come, I'll dispose of thee
Amongst 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, where the torch doth burn.

Watch.
The ground is bloody. Search about the church-yard;
Go, some of you, whom e'er you find, attach.
Pitiful sight! here lies the County slain,
And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead,
Who here hath lain these two days buried.

Go, tell the Prince, run to the Capulets,
Raise up the Montagues; 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. Enter some of the Watch, with Balthasar.

2 Watch.

Here's Romeo's man, we found him in the church-yard.

1 Watch.
Hold him in safety, 'till the Prince comes hither. Enter another Watchman with Friar Lawrence.

3 Watch.
Here is a Friar that trembles, sighs and weeps:
We took this mattock and this spade from him,
As he was coming from this church-yard side.

1 Watch.
A great suspicion: stay the Friar too.

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