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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, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
0, what more favour can I do to thee,
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,
To sunder his that was thine 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 will still stay with theé ;
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again ; here, here will I remain
With wormš that are thy chambermaids ; 0, herë
Will I set up my everlasting rest;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied Aesh. -Eyes, look your

last!
Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death! -
Come, bitter conduct', come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark !
Here's to my love !-[Drinks.] 0, true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

[Dies.

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Enter at the other end of the Churchyard, 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?

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Conductor.

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 sculls ? as I discern, It burneth in the Capels' monument. Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my mas

ter, One that you love. Fri.

Who is it?
Bal.

Romeo.
Fri. How long hath he been there?
Bal.

Full half an hour.
Fri. Go with me to the vault.
Bal.

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.

Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
I dreamt my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him.
Fri.

Romeo ? [Advances.
Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre ?
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?

[Enters the Monument. Romeo! O, 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.

[JULIET wakes and stirs. Jul. O, comfortable friar! where is my lord ?

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I do remember well where I should be,
And there I am:- Where is my Romeo ?

[Noise within. 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 lies dead;
And Paris too; come, I'll dispose of thee
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns :
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
Come, go, good Juliet, - [Noise again.] I dare
stay no longer.

[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 :
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,
To make me die with a restorative. [Kisses him.
Thy lips are warm !

i Watch. [Within.] Lead, boy :- Which way?
Jul. Yea, noise ?-then I'll be brief.- happy

dagger! [Snatching Romeo's Dagger. This is thy sheath ; [Stabs herself.] there rust, and

let me die.

[Falls on Romeo's Body, and dies.

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Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS.
Page. This is the place; there, where the torch

doth burn.
1 Watch. The ground is bloody; Search about

the churchyard : Go, some of you, who e'er you find, attach.

[Exeunt some. 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;

[Exeunt other Watchmen. We see the ground whereon these woes do lie; But the true ground of all these piteous woes, We cannot without circumstance descry.

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Enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR.
2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man, we found him in

the churchyard.
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,
As he was coming from this churchyard side.

1 Watch. A great suspicion; Stay the friar too.

Enter the Prince and Attendants.

Prince. What misadventure is so early up, That calls our person from our morning's rest?

1

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;

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And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,
Warm and new kill'd.
Prince. Search, seek, and know how this foul

murder comes.
1 Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's

man;
With instruments upon them, fit to open
These dead men's tombs.
Cap. O, heavens ! O, wife! look how our

daughter bleeds!
This dagger hath mista’en, for lo! his house?
Is empty on the back of Montague,
And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom.

La. Cap. O me! this sight of death is as a bell,
That warns my

old

age to a sepulchre.

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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 exíle hath stopp'd 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 then will I be general of your woes,
And lead you even to death : Mean time forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet most suspected, as the time and place

2 3. c. The scabbard.

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