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SCENE changes to a Church-yard: In it, a
Monument belonging to the Capulets.
Enter Paris, and bis Page, with a light.
Par. LIVE me thy torch, boy; hence and stand
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen:
Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
Laying 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 ine,
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 Aow'r!, with Aow'rs thy bridal bed I ftrew:
(Strewing flowers. Fair Juliet, that with angels doft remain, Accept this latest favour at my hand; That living honour'd thee, and, being dead, With fun'ral obsequies adorn thy tomb.
[The boy whistles. - The boy gives warning, something doch 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.
Enter Romeo and Balthazar with a light. (29) Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching iron. Hold, take this letter, early in the morning
(29) Enter Romeo, and Peter with a Light.) But Peter was a Servant of the Capulets : besides, he brings the Mattock and Crow to wrench open Juliet's Grave, an Office hardly to be intrafted with a Servant of that family. We find a little above, at the very Beginning of this AX, Balthazar is the Person who brings Romeo the News of his Bride's Death: and yet, at the Close of the Play, Peter takes upon him to depose
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
Give me the light; upon thy life, I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'lt or feeft, stand all aloof,
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I defcend into this bed of death,
Is partly to behold my lady's face:
But chicfy, to take thence from her dead finger
A precious ring, å ring that I must use
In dear employment; therefore, hence, be gone:
But if thou, jealous, doft 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 lhew me Friendship. – Take thou
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 Balthazar.
Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd with the deareft 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 coulin; (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 ünhallow'd toil, vilė Montague ;
that He brought those Tidings. Utri creditis, Quirites! In short, We heard Balthazar deliver the Message; and therefore Peter is a lying Evidence, fuborn'd by the blundering Editors: We must therefore cathier him, and put Balthazar on his proper Duty. The Sourse of this Error seems easy to be accounted for; Peter's Character ending in the 4th A&, "tis very probable the fame Person might play Balthazar, and fo be quoted on in the Prompter's Book as Peter.
ROMEO and JuliĒT.
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 fin 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, be gone; live, and hereafter say,
A madman's Mercy bad thee run away.
Par, I do defie thy commiseration,
And apprehend chce for a felon here..
Rom. Wilt thou provoke me ? then have at thee, boy.
[They fight, Paris falls
. Page. Ok ford, they fight! I will go call the Watch.
Par. Oh, I am Nain; if thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet,
Rom. In faith, I will: let me peruse this face
Mercutio's kinsman! Noble County Paris !
What said my man, when my betosled soul
Did not attend him as we rode? I think,
He told me, Paris should have married 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, Naughter'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 poinè of Death,
Have they been merry? which their Keepers call
A Lightning before Death. O, how
1 Call this a Lightning!
Oh my love, my wife!
Death, that at.. fuckc che honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty :
Thou are not conquer'd; beauty's enlign 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 Yuliet,
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 (30)
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 Heib. Eyes, look your
last! Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, oh
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
Come, bitter conduct! come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desp'rate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks my sea-lick weary bark:
(30) And never from this Palace of dim Night Depart again. (Come, lye Thou in my Arms ; Here's to thy Health. true Apothecary! Thy Drugs are quick.)] Mr. Pope's, and some other of the worfer, Editions acknowledge absurdly the Lines which I have put into Parenthesis here ; and which I have expung'd from the Text, for this Reason: Roo
! meo is made to confess the Effect of the Poison, before ever he has tafted it. I suppose, it hardly was so favoury that the Patient should chuse to make two Draughts of it. And, eight Lines after these, we find him taking the Poison in his hand, and making an Apostrophe 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 speak of its inftant Force and Effects. Besides, Shakespeare would hardly have made Romeo drink to the Healıb of his dead Mistress.
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 ftuinbled at Graves? who's there?
Balıb. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you
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 doch so, holy Sir,
And there's my master, one you dearly love.
Fri. Who is it?
Fri. How long hath he been there?
Balıb. 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; Ö, much I fear fome ill unlucky thing.
Balıb. As I did Neep under this yew-tree here,
I dreamt, my master and another fought,
And that my master flew him.
Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
The ftony 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 ftirs.