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Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,
And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery,
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law : -
The world affords no law to make thee rich;
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.
Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents.
Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will,
And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight.
Róm. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's
Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not
I well thee poison, thou hast sold me none.
Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh. -
Come, cordial, and not poison; go with me
for there must I use thee.
John. Holy Frånciscan friar! brother, ho!
Lau. This same should be the voice of friar
Welcome from Mantua : What says
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
John. Going to find a barefoot brother out,
One of our order to associate me,
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the town,
Suspecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;
my speed to Mantua there was stay'd. Lau. Who bare my letter then to Romeo?
John. I could not send it, - here it is again,
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection,
Lau. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nices, but full of charge,
Of dear import; and the neglecting it
May do much danger: Friar John, go hence;
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
John. Brother, I'll go and bring 't thee. [Exit.
Lau. Now must I to the monument alone;
Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake;
She will beshrew me much that Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents :
But I will write again to Mantua,
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come ;
Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb !
A Church-Yard ; in it, a Monument belonging to
Enter Paris, and his Page, bearing Flowers, and
a Torch. Par. Give me thy torch, boy: Hence, and stand
sie. On a triviał or idle subject.
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the churchyard 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 flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.
[Retires. Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy bridal
Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain
The perfect model of eternity;
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,
Accept this latest favour at my hands ;
That living honour'd thee, and, being dead,
With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb!
[The Boy whistles.
The boy gives warning, something doth approach.
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
To cross my obsequies, and true-love's rites?
What, with a torch!- muffle me, night, a while.
[Retires. Enter Romeo and BALTHASAR, with a Torch,
Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching
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 see'st 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 churchyard 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 show me friendship. – Take
Live, and be prosperous ; and farewell, good fellow.
Bal. For all this same, I 'll hide me hereabout;
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Retires.
Rom. Thou détestable 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 Door of the Monument. And, in despite, I 'll cram thee with more food !
Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague,
love's cousin ;
- with which
It is supposed the fair creature died,
And here is come to do some villainous 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
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man,
Fly hence, and leave me; think
Let them affright thee. - I beseech thee, youth,
Heap not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury :-0, be gone!
6 1. e. A matter of importance.
By heaven, I love thee better than myself:
For I come hither arm'd against myself :
Stay not, be gone ; – live, and hereafter say -
A madman's mercy både thee run away.
Par. I do defy thy conjurations",
And do attach thee as a felon here.
Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee,
[They fight. Page. O heaven! they fight, I will go call the watch.
[Exit Page. Par. O, I am slain! [Falls.] — If thou be mer
ciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies. Rom. In faith, I will: - - Let me peruse this
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 ?-0, give me thy hand,
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave, -
A grave? O, no; a lantern, slaughter'd youth,
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence ® fulì 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: 0, how may I
Call this a lightning?- 0, my love ! my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty :
'I refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do, i. e. depart.
8 Présence chamber,