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Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Who calls so loud ?
Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law Is death to any he that utters them.
Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,
Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents.
Ap. Put this in any liqnid thing you will,
Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's
souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell: I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh,
THE CONTEST OF ROMEO AND PARIS. Par. 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. [ther.
Rom. I must, indeed, and therefore came I hiGood gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man, Fly hence and leave me;—think upon
these gone; Let them affright thee.—I beseech thee, youth, Heap not another sin upon my head, By urging me to fury–0, be gone! By heaven, I love thee better than myself: For I come hither arm'd against myself: Stay not, begone ;-live, and hereafter sayA madman's mercy bade 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, boy.
Par. O, I am slain! [Falls. ]—If thou be merciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies.
Rom. In faith, I will:~Let me peruse this face;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: * I refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do; i.
Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
ROMEO'S LAST SPEECH OVER JULIET IN THE TOMB.
love! my wife! Death that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty : 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 stay with thee; And never from this palace of dim night Depart again; here, here, will I remain With worms that are thy chambermaids; O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest; And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars [last, From this world-wearied flesh.—Eyes, look your 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.
The painting is almost the natural man;
THE PLEASURE OF DOING GOOD.
O, you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, if we should never have need of them ? they were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for them: and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits: and what better or properer can we call our own, than the riches of our friends? 0, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes!
A FAITHFUL STEWARD. So the gods bless me, When all our officest have been oppress'd * Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they profess to be.
+ The apartments allotted to culinary offices, &c.
With riotous feeders; when our vaults have wept
INGRATITUDE. They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, That now they are at fallt, want treasure, cannot Do what they would; are sorry—you are honour
able, But yet they could have wish'd—they know notSomething has been amiss—a noble nature but May catch a wrench-would all were well—'tis
pityAnd so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks, and these hard fractionsg, With certain half-caps||, and cold-moving nods, They froze me into silence.
Luc. Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well: Commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend.
Ser. May it please your honour, my lord hath sent
Luc. Ha! what has he sent? I am so much en
* A pipe with a turning stopple running to waste.
Intending, had anciently the same meaning as attendinge