I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. SCENE II. Friar LAURENCE's Cell. Enter Friar JOHN. John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother! ho! Enter Friar LAURENCE. Lau. This same should be the voice of friar John. Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo? Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. John. Going to find a bare-foot brother out, One of our order, to associate me, Here in this city visiting the sick, And finding him, the searchers of the town, So fearful were they of infection. Lau. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood, John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [Exeunt. [Exit. 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! [Exit. SCENE III. A Church-Yard; in it a Monument belonging to the Capulets. Enter PARIS, and his Page, bearing Flowers, and a Torch. Par. Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof; Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. Under yond' yew-tress lay thee all along, Holding thine 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 flowers. Do as I bid thee; go. Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the church-yard; yet I will adventure. [Retires. Par. Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew. O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones, Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, Or wanting that with tears distill'd by moans: The obsequies, that I for thee will keep, Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep! [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 rite? What! with a torch? - muffle me, night, a while. [Retires. Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a Torch, Mattock, &c. Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching iron. 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, Why I descend into this bed of death But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger In dear employment. Therefore hence, be gone : In what I farther shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint, And strew this hungry church-yard with thy limbs. 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 thou that : Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, [Retires. [Breaking open the Door of the Monument. And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food! -- And here is come to do some villainous shame [Advancing. Rom. I must, indeed; and therefore came I hither. Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man; Fly hence and leave me : - think upon these gone; Let them affright thee. - I beseech thee, youth, Put not another sin upon my head, By urging me to fury: 0, be gone: By heaven, I love thee better than myself, - Stay not, Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then, have at thee, boy. [They fight. Page. O Lord! they fight: I will go call the watch. [Exit Page. Par. O! I am slain. [Falls.] - If thou be merciful, Rom. In faith, Į will. Let me peruse this face: A grave? O, no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth, [Dies. [Laying Paris in the Monument. How oft, when men are at the point of death, O! what more favour can I do to thee, Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain, Forgive me, cousin! Ah! dear Juliet, Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous; With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O! here And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. - Eyes, look your last [Dies. Enter, at the other End of the Church-yard, 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? 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 master, |