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, And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes, Contempt and beggary hang upon thy back, 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 pray 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. Rom. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not sell: I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh.Come, cordial, and not poison; go with me To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee. SCENE II.-Friar Laurence's Cell. John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! Enter Friar LAURENCE. [Exeunt. 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, Lau. Who bare my letter then to Romeo? Lau. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood, John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. And keep her at my cell till Romeo come. [Exit. 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. Here in the church-yard; yet I will adventure. [Retires. Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, Or wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans; a Nice-trivial. The obsequies that I for thee will keep, [The Boy whistles. Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR with a torch, 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. But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone :- 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 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: Live and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow. 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, That murder'd my love's cousin ;-with which grief, It is supposed the fair creature died, And here is come to do some villainous shame To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.-[Advances. Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death? Rom. I must, indeed; and therefore came I hither. By urging me to fury:-0, be gone! And apprehend thee for a felon here. 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, 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: Said he not so? or did I dream it so ? Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, To think it was so ?-O, 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, [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: O, how may I Call this a lightning?--O, my 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? O, 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 still will stay with thee; And never from this palace of dim night Depart again; here, here will I remain With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest; And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh.-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!--- Here's to my love!-[Drinks.] O, true apothecary; |