Par.
Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof.
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen;
Under yon yew-tree lay thee all along,
Placing thy 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 flow'rs. Do as I bid thee; go.

Page.
I am almost afraid to stand alone,
Here in the church-yard, yet I will adventure. [Exit.

Par.
Sweet flow'r! with flow'rs thy bridal bed I strew; [Strewing flowers,
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,
Accept this latest favour at my hand,
That living, honour'd thee, and, being dead,
With funeral obsequies adorn thy tomb. [The boy whistles.
—The boy gives warning, something does approach—

What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
To cross my obsequies, and true love's rite?
What, with a torch! Muffle me, night, a while. [Paris retires. Enter Romeo and Balthasar, with a Light.

Rom.
Give me the wrenching iron.
Hold, take this letter; early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my lord and father,
Put out the torch, and, on 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, begone;
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 tigers, or the roaring sea.

Bal.
I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

Rom.
So shalt thou win my favour. Take thou that,
Live and be prosp'rous, and farewel, good fellow.

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

Rom.
Thou maw detestable, 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. [Shewing himself.]
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:
By heav'n, I love thee better than myself;
For I come hither, arm'd against myself.

Par.
I do defy thy pity and thy counsel,
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, and lay me with my Juliet. [Dies.

Rom.
In faith, I will: let me peruse this face—
Mercutio's kinsman! Noble County Paris!
Give me thy hand—
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book,
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave, [Breaks open the Monument.
For here lies Juliet—Oh my love, my wife,
Death, that hath suck'd 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.
Oh Juliet, why art thou yet so fair—here, here,
Will I set up my everlasting rest;
And shake the yoke, of inauspicious stars,
From this world-weary flesh:
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsav'ry guide,
Thou desp'rate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks my sea-sick weary bark:
No more—here's to my love!—eyes, look your last; [Drinking the Poison.
Arms, take your last embrace: and lips, do you
The doors of breath seal with a righteous kiss—
Soft—she breathes, and stirs? [Juliet wakes.

Jul.
Where am I? Defend me!* ^note

Rom.
She speaks, she lives: and we shall still be bless'd!
My kind propitious stars o'erpay me now,
For all my sorrows past—rise, rise, my Juliet,
And from this cave of death, this house of horror,
Quick let me snatch thee to thy Romeo's arms,
There breathe a vital spirit in thy lips,
And call thee back to life and love. [Takes her Hand.

Jul.
Bless me! how cold it is! Who's there?

Rom.
Thy husband,
'Tis thy Romeo, Juliet; rais'd from despair
To joys unutt'rable! Quit, quit this place,
And let us fly together— [Brings her from the Tomb.

Jul.
Why do you force me so—I'll ne'er consent—
My strength may fail me, but my will's unmov'd—
I'll not wed Paris—Romeo is my husband—

Rom.
Her senses are unsettl'd—Heav'n restore 'em!
Romeo is thy husband; I am that Romeo,
Nor all the opposing powers of earth or man,
Shall break our bonds, or tear thee from my heart.

Jul.
I know that voice—its magick sweetness wakes
My tranced soul—I now remember well
Each circumstance—Oh my lord, my husband— [Going to embrace him.
Dost thou avoid me, Romeo? Let me touch
Thy hand, and taste the cordial of thy lips—
You fright me—speak—oh let me hear some voice,
Besides my own, in this drear vault of death,
Or I shall faint—Support me—

Rom.
Oh, I cannot,
I have no strength, but want thy feeble aid;
Cruel poison!

Jul.
Poison! What means my lord? Thy trembling voice!
Pale lips! and swimming eyes! Death's in thy face!

Rom.
It is, indeed—I struggle with him now—
The transports that I felt, to hear thee speak,
And see thy op'ning eyes, stopt for a moment
His impetuous course, and all my mind
Was happiness and thee: but now the poison

Rushes thro' my veins—I've not time to tell—* ^note
Fate brought me to this place—to take a last,
Last farewel of my love, and with thee die.

Jul.
Die! Was the friar false?

Rom.
I know not that—
I thought thee dead: distracted at the fight,
(Fatal speed) drank poison, kiss'd thy cold lips,
And sound, within thy arms, a precious grave—
But in that moment—Oh—

Jul.
And did I wake for this!

Rom.
My powers are blasted,
'Twixt death and love I'm torn—I am distracted!
But death's strongest—and I must leave thee, Juliet!
Oh cruel, cursed fate! in sight of Heav'n—

Jul.
Thou rav'st—lean on my breast—

Rom.
Fathers have flinty hearts, no tears can melt 'em.
Nature pleads in vain—Children must be wretched—

Jul.
Oh, my breaking heart—

Rom.
She is my wife—our hearts are twin'd together—
Capulet, forbear—Paris, loose your hold—
Pull not our heart-strings thus—they crack—they break—
Oh, Juliet! Juliet! [Dies.

Jul.
Stay, stay, for me, Romeo—
A moment stay; fate marries us in death,
And we are one—No power shall part us. [Faints on Romeo's body. 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?
Alack, alack! what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre!

Jul.
Who's there?

Fri.
Ah, Juliet awake, and Romeo dead!
And Paris too—Oh, what unkind hour

Is guilty of this lamentable chance!

Jul.
Here he is still, and I will hold him fast,
They shall not tear him from me—

Fri.
Patience, lady—

Jul.
Who is that? O, thou cursed friar! Patience!
Talk'st thou of patience, to a wretch like me!

Fri.
O fatal error! Rise, thou fair distrest,
And fly this scene of death!

Jul.
Come thou not near me,
Or this dagger shall quit my Romeo's death! [Draws a Dagger.

Fri.
I wonder not, thy griefs have made thee desp'rate.
What noise without? Sweet Juliet, let us fly—
A greater power than we can contradict,
Hath thwarted our intents—Come, haste away,
I will dispose thee, most unhappy lady,
Amongst a sisterhood of holy nuns:
Stay not to question—for the watch is coming,
Come, go, good Juliet,—I dare not longer stay. [Exit.

Jul.
Go, get thee hence, I will not away—
What's here! a phial—Romeo's timeless end.
O 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— [Kisses him. Watch, and Page within.

Watch.
Lead, boy, which way?—

Jul.
Noise again!
Then I'll be brief—O, happy dagger!
This is thy sheath, there rest, and let me die. [Kills herself.

Boy.
This is the place—my liege. Enter Prince, &c.

Prin.
What misadventure is so early up,
That calls our person from its morning's rest. Enter Capulet.

Cap.
What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?
The people in the street, cry Romeo;
Some Juliet; and some, Paris; and all run,
With open outcry towards our monument.

Prin.
What fear is this, which startles in your ears?

Watch.
Sovereign, here lies the County Paris, slain,
And Romeo dead—Juliet thought dead before,
Is warm, and newly killed.—

Cap.
Oh me, this sight of death, is as a bell,
That warns my old age to a sepulchre. Enter Montague.

Prin.
Come, Montague, for thou art early up,
To see thy son and heir, now early fall'n—

Mont.
Alas, my liege, my wife is dead, to-night,
Grief of my son's exile, hath stopp'd her breath.
What farther woe conspires against my age?

Prin.
Look there—and see—

Mont.
Oh, thou untaught what manners is, in this,
To press before thy father to a grave!

Prin.
Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
Till we can clear these ambiguities,
And know their spring, and head—mean time forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

Fri.
I am the greatest.

Prin.
Then say, at once, what thou dost know of this.

Fri.
Let us retire from this dread scene of death,* ^note
And I'll unfold the whole. If ought in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrific'd, some hour before its time,
Unto the rigor of severest law.

Prin.
We still have known thee for a holy man.
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!
See what a scourge is laid upon your hate.
Let Romeo's man, and let the boy attend us:
We'll hence, and farther scan these sad disasters.
Well may you mourn, my lords, (now wise too late)
These tragic issues of your mutual hate:
From private feuds, what dire misfortunes flow;
Whate'er the cause, the sure effect is Woe.† ^note End of the Fifth Act.

The Merchant of Venice.

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