Prince. Search, feek, and know, how this foul mur
Watch. Here is a Friar, and flaughter'd Romeo's
With inftruments upon them, fit to open
These dead men's tombs.
Cap. Oh, heav'n! oh, wife! look how our daughter bleeds!
This dagger hath mifta'en; for, loe! the sheath
Lies empty on the back of Montague,
The point mif-fheathed in my daughter's bofom.
La. Cap. Oh me, this fight of death is as a bell,
That warms my old age to a fepulchre.
Prince. Come, Montague, for thou art early up, To fee thy fon and heir now early down.
Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to night; Grief of my fon's exile hath ftopt her breath : What further woe confpires against my age? Prince. Look, and thou fhalt fee.
Mon. Oh, thou untaught! what manners is in this, To prefs before thy father to a Grave?
Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, 'Till we can clear these ambiguities,
And know their spring, their head, their true defcent; And then will I be General of your woes,
And lead you ev'n to Death. Mean time forbear, And let mischance be flave to patience.
Bring forth the parties of fufpicioin.
Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet moft fufpected; as the time and place
Doth make against me, of this direful murther;
And here I ftand both to impeach and purge
My felf condemned, and my self excus'd.
Prince. Then fay at once what thou dost know in
Fri. I will be brief, for my fhort date of breath Is not fo long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet ;
And fhe, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:
I married them; and their ftoln marriage-day
Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whofe untimely death
Banifh'd the new-made bridegroom from this city;
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.
You, to remove that fiege of grief from her,
Betroth'd, and would have married her perforce
To County Paris. Then comes fhe to me,
And, with wild looks, bid me devise fome means
To rid her from this second marriage;
Or, in my Cell, there would fhe kill herself.
Then gave I her (fo tutor❜d by my art)
A fleeping potion, which fo took effect
As I intended; for it wrought on her
The form of death. Mean time I writ to Rome,
That he should hither come, as this dire night,
To help to take her from her borrowed Grave;
Being the time the potion's force fhould ceafe.
But he which bore my letter, Friar John,
Was ftaid by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my letter back; then all alone,
At the prefixed hour of her awaking,
Came I to take her from her kindred's Vault:
Meaning to keep her closely at my Cell,
'Till I conveniently could fend to Romeo.
But when I came, (fome minute ere the time
Of her awaking) here untimely lay
The noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.
She wakes, and I intreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heav'n with patience :
But then a noife did fcare me from the tomb,
And the, too defp'rate, would not go with me:
But, as it feems, did violence on herself.
All this I know, and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy; but if aught in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be facrific'd, fome hour before the time,
Unto the rigour of fevereft law.
Prince. We ftill have known thee for an holy man.
Where's Romeo's man? what can he fay to this?
Balth. I brought my mafter news of Juliet's death,
And then in poft he came from Mantua
To this fame place, to this fame Monument.
This letter he early bid me give his father,
And threatned me with death going to the Vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.
Prince. Give me the letter, I will look on it.
Where is the County's page, that rais'd the Watch?
Sirrah, what made your master in this place?
Page. He came with flowers to ftrew his lady's
Grave,
And bid me ftand aloof, and so I did:
Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb,
And, by and by, my mafter drew on him;
And then I ran away to call the Watch.
Prince. This letter doth make good the Friar's
words,
Their courfe of love, the tidings of her death:
And here he writes, that he did buy a poison
Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die, and lye with Juliet.
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!
See, what a fcourge is laid upon your hate,
That heav'n finds means to kill your joys with love!
And I, for winking at your discords too,
Have loft a brace of kinfmen: all are punish'd!
Cap. O brother Montague, give me thy hand,
This is my daughter's jointure; for no more
Can I demand.
Mon. But I can give thee more,
For I will raise her Statue in pure gold;
That, while Verona by that name is known,
There shall no figure at that rate be set,
As that of true and faithful Juliet.
Cap. As rich fhall Romeo's by his lady lye;
Poor facrifices of our enmity!
Prince. A gloomy Peace this morning with it brings,
The Sun for Sorrow will not fhew his head; Go hence to have more talk of these fad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished.
For never was a story of more woe,
Than this of Juliet, and her Romeo.
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