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 flain; if thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

Rom. In faith, I will let me perufe this face-
Mercutio's kinfman! Noble Comtè Paris!
What faid my man, when my betoffed foul
Did not attend him as we rode ? I think,
He told me, Paris fhould have married Juliet.
Said he not fo? or did I dream it fo?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To think it was fo? 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, flaughter'd youth;
For here lies Juliet ; and her beauty makes
This vault a feafting prefence full of light.
Death, lie 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
Call this a lightning!-Oh my love, my wife!
Death, that hath fuckt the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's enfign 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 fheet?
Oh, what more favour can I do to thee,
Than with that hand, that cut thy youth in twain,
To funder his, that was thy enemy?
Forgive me, coufin.-Ah dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet fo fair? fhall I believe
That unfubftantial death is amorous,
And that the lean abhorred monfter keeps
Thee here in dark, to be his paramour ?
For fear of that, I ftill will stay with thee;

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And never from this palace of dim night (16)
Depart again: Here, here will I remain,

With worms that are thy chamber-maids; oh here
Will I fet up my everlasting reft;

And shake the yoke of inaufpicious stars

From this world-weary'd flesh. Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, oh you
The doors of breath, feal with a righteous kils
A datelefs bargain to engroffing death!
Come, bitter conduct! come unfav'ry guide!
Thou defp'rate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks my fea-fick, weary, bark:
Here's to my love! oh, true apothecary!

[Drinks the poifon. Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kifs I die. [Dies.

(16) And never from this Palace of dim Night

Depart again. (Come, lie thou in my Arms;
Here's to thy Health. O true Apothecary!

Thy Drugs are quick)] Mr. Pope's, and fome other of the worfer Editions, acknowledge abfurdly the Lines which I have put into Parenthesis here; and which I have expunged from the Text, for this Reafon : Romeo is made to confefs the Effect of the Poifon, before ever he has tafted it. I fuppofe, it hardly was fo favoury that the Patient fhould chufe to make two Draughts of it. And, eight Lines after thefe, we find him taking the Poifon in his Hands and making an Apoftrophe to it; inviting it to perform its Office at once; and then, and not till then, does he clap it to his Lips, or can with any Probability fpeak of its inftant Force and Effects. fides, Shakespeare would hardly have made Romeo drink to the Health of his dead Miftrefs. Tho' the first Quarto in 1599, and the two old Folio's acknowledge this abfurd Stuff, I find it left out in feveral latter Quarto to Impreffions. I ought to take notice, that tho' Mr. Pope has thought fit to flick to the old Copies in this Addition, yet he is no fair Tranfcriber; for he has funk upon us an Hemiftich of moft profound Abfurdity, which poffeffes all thofe Copies.

-Come, lie thou in my Arms;

Here's to thy Health, where-e'er thou tumbleft in.
O true Apothecary! &c.


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Enter Friar Lawrence with lanthorn, crow, and Spade.

Fri. St. Francis be my fpeed! how oft to-night Have my old feet ftumbled at graves ? `who's there?

Enter Balthafar.

Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well. Fri. Blifs be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light To grubs and eyelefs fculls? as I difcern, It burneth in the Capulets' monument.

Balth. It doth fo, holy Sir,

And there's my mafter, 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 mafter knows not, but I am gone hence;
And fearfully did menace me with death,

If I did ftay to look on his intents.

Fri. Stay then, I'll go alone; fear comes upon me;

O, much I fear fome ill unlucky thing.

Balth. As I did fleep under this yew-tree here, I dreamt, my mafter and another fought,

And that my mafter flew him.

Fri. Romeo!

Alack, alack, what blood is this, which ftains
The ftony entrance of this fepulchre ?

What mean thefe mafterlefs and goary fwords,
To lie difcolour'd by this place of peace?
Romeo! oh pale! who elfe? what Paris too?
And steep'd in blood? ah, what an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable chance?

The lady ftirs.

Jul. [awaking.] Oh comfortable Friar, where is my


I do remember well, where I should be;

And there I am; but where is Romeo?

Fri. I hear fome noife! Lady, come from that neft Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;

A greater power, than we can contradict,
Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away;
Thy husband in thy bofom there lies dead,
And Paris too- Come, I'll difpofe of thee
Among a fifterhood of holy Nuns:

Stay not to question, for the Watch is coming.
Come, go, good Juliet; I dare no longer ftay. [Exit.
Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.
What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand?
Poifon, I fee, hath been his timeless end.
Oh churl, drink all, and leave no friendly drop
To help me after? I will kifs thy lips:
Haply, fome poifon 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, noife?

Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!

[Finding a dagger.

This is thy fheath, there ruft 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, fome of you, whom e'er you find, attach.
Pitiful fight! here lies the Comtè flain,
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; fome others, fearch-
We fee the ground whereon thefe woes do lie:
But the true ground of all thefe piteous woes
We cannot without circumftance defcry.


Enter fome of the Watch, with Balthafar.

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

1 Watch. Hold him in fafety, 'till the Prince comes hither.

Enter another Watchman, with Friar Lawrence.

3 Watch. Here is a Friar that trembles, fighs and weeps: We took this mattock and this fpade from hin, As he was coming from this church-yard fide. I Watch. A great fufpicion: ftay the Friar too.

Enter the Prince, and Attendants.

Prince. What misadventure is fo early up, That calls our perfon from our morning's reft ?

Enter Capulet and Lady Capulet.

Cap. What should it be, that they fo fhriek abroad? La. Cap. The people in the street cry, Romeo ; Some, Juliet; and fome, Paris; and all run With open out-cry tow'rd our monument.

Prince. What fear is this, which startles in your ears? Watch. Sovereign, here lies the Comtè Paris flain, And Romeo dead, and Juliet (dead before)

Warm and new kill'd.

Prince. Search, seek, and know, how this foul murder


Watch. Here is a Friar, and flaughter'd Romeo's man, With inftruments upon them, fit to open

Thefe dead men's tombs.

Cap. Oh,heav'n! oh, wife! look how our daughter bleeds!
This dagger hath mifta'en; for, lo! the fheath
Lies empty on the back of Montague,

The point mif- fheathed in my daughter's bofom.
La. Cap. Oh me, this fight of death is as a bell,
That warns my old age to a fepulchre.


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