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ACT V. SCENE I.

SCENE Mantua.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. My Dreams prefage fome joyful News at hand:

FI may truft the flattering truth of Sleep,

My Bolom's Lord fits lightly in his Throne,
And all this winged unaccuftom'd Spirit,

Lifts me above the Ground with chearful Thoughts.
I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead,
(Strange Dream! that gives a dead Man leave to think)
And breath'd fuch Life with Kiffes in my Lips,
That I reviv'd, and was an Emperor.
Ah me! how fweet is Love it felf poffeft,
When but Love's Shadows are fo rich in Joy.

Enter Romeo's Man.

News from Verona How now Balthazar?
Doft thou not bring me Letters from the Friar?
How doth my Lady? Is my Father well?
How doth my Lady Juliet? That I ask again,
For nothing can be ill, if the be well.

Man. Then he is well, and nothing can be ill.
Her Body fleeps in Capulet's Monument,
And her immortal part with Angels lives:
I faw her laid low in her Kindreds Vault,
And prefently took Poft to tell it you:
O pardon me for bringing these ill News,
Since you did leave it for my Office, Sir.
Rom. Is it even fo?-

Then I deny you Stars.

Thou knoweft my Lodging, get me Ink and Paper,
And hire Poft-Horfes, I will hence to Night.
Man. I do befeech you, Sir, have patience:
Your Looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some Mifadventure.

Rom. Tufh, thou art deceiv'd,
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do:
Haft thou no Letters to me from the Friar?

Mas

Man. No, good my Lord.

Rom. No matter: Get thee gone,

And hire thofe Horfes, I'll be with thee ftraight. [Exit Man.

Well Juliet, I will lye with thee to Night;

Let's fee for meansO Mischief thou art fwift
To enter in the Thought of defperate Men:
I do remember an Apothecary,

And hereabouts he dwells, which late I noted
In tatter'd Weeds, with overwhelming Brows,
Culling of Simples; Meager were his Looks,
Sharp Mifery hard worn him to the Bones :
And in his needy Shop a Tortoife hung,
An Alligator ftuft, and other Skins

Of ill-fhap'd Fishes, and about his Shelves
A beggarly Account of empty Boxes;

Green earthen Pots, Bladders, and mufty Seeds,
Remnants of Packthread, and old Cakes of Rofes
Were thinly scattered, to make up a fhew.
Noting this Penury, to my felf I said,'.
And if a Man did need a Poifon now,
Whose fale is present Death in Mantua,
Here lives a Caitiff Wretch would fell it him.
O this fame Thought did but fore-run my Need,
And this fame needy Man muft fell it me.
As I remember, this fhould be the Houfe,
Being holy-day, the Beggar's Shop is fhut.
What ho! Apothecary!

Enter Apothecary.
Ap. Who calls fo loud?

Rom. Come hither Man, I fee that thou art poor,
Hold, there is forty Ducats, let me have

A Dram of Poifon, fuch foon-fpeeding Geer,
As will difperfe it felf thro' all the Veins,
That the Life-weary-taker may fall Dead,
And that the Trunk may be difcharg'd of Breath,
As violently, as hafty Powder fir'd

Doth hurry from the fatal Cannon's Womb.

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'ft to dye? Famine is in thy Cheeks,

Need

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Need and Oppreffion starveth in thine Eyes,
Contempt and Beggary hang on 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 confents.
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 difpatch you straight.

Rom. There is thy Gold, worfe Poison to Mens Souls, Doing more Murder in this loathfom World,

Than these poor Compounds that thou may'ft not fell:
I fell thee Poison, thou haft fold me none.

Farewel, buy Food, and get thy felf in Flefh.
Come Cordial, and not Poison, go with me
To Juliet's Grave, for there muft I use thee.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The Monaftery near Verona.
Enter Friar John to Friar Lawrence.

John. Holy Franciscan Friar! Brother! ho!
Law. This fame fhould be the Voice of Friar John.
Welcome from Mantua, what fays 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 affociate me,
Here in this City vifiting the Sick,

And finding him, the Searchers of the Town,
Sufp &ting that we both were in a Houfe
Where the infectious Peftilence did reign,
Seald up the Doors, and would not let us forth,
So that my speed to A1antua there was ftaid.

Law. Who bare my Letter then to Romeo?
John. I could not fend it; here it is again,
Nor get a Meffenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of Infection.

Law. Unhappy Fortune! by my Brotherhood,
The Letter was not nice, but full of Charge
Of dear Import, and the neglecting it
May do much Danger, Friar John, go hence,

Get

Get me an Iron Crow, and bring it ftreight
Unto my Cell.

John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.
Law. Now muft I to the Monument alone,
Within this three Hours will fair Juliet wake,
She will befhrew me much, that Romeo
Hath had no notice of thefe Accidents:
But I will write again to Mantua,

And keep her at my Cell 'till Romeo come,

[Exit.

Poor living Coarfe, clos'd in a dead Man's Tomb. [Exit.

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SCENE III. A Church-yard, in it, a noble Monument belonging to the Capulets.

Enter Paris and his Page, with a Light.

Par. Give me thy Torch, Boy; hence, and ftand aloof: Yet put it out, for I would not be feen: Under yond' young Trees lay thee all along, Laying thy Ear close to the hollow Ground, So fhall no foot upon the Church-yard tread, Being loof, unfirm, with digging up of Graves, But thou shalt hear it: Whistle then to me, As fignal that thou heareft fomething approach. Give me thofe Flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. Pag. I am almost afraid to stand alone

Here in the Church-yard, yet I will adventure.

Exit.

Par. Sweet Flower, with Flowers thy bridal Bed I strew:

O Woe, thy Canopy is Duft and Stones,
Which with fweet Water nightly I will dew,
Or wanting that, with Tears diftill'd by Mones;
The Obfequies that I for thee will keep,
Nightly fhall be, to ftrew thy Grave and weep.

[The Boy whistles.
The Boy gives warning, fomething doth approach,-
What curled Foot wanders this way to Night,
To cross my Obfequies, and true Loves Right?
What with a Torch? Muffle me, Night, a while.

Enter Romeo and Peter with a Light.

Rom. Give me that Mattock, and the wrenching Iron. Hold, take this Letter, early in the Morning

See

See thou deliver it to my Lord and Father.
Give me the Light; upon thy Life I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'ft or feeft, ftand 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 chiefly to take thence from her dead Finger,
A precious Ring, a Ring that I must use
In dear Employment, therefore hence be gone:
But if thou, Jealous, doft return to Pry
In what I further fhall intend to do,

By Heav'n I will tear thee Joint by Joint,
And ftrew this hungry Church-yard with thy Limbs;
The Time, and my Intents are favage wild,
More fierce, and more inexorable far,

Than empty Tygers, or the roaring Sea.

Pet. I will be gone Sir, and not trouble you.

Rom. So fhalt thou fhew me Friendship: Take thou that, Live and be profperous, and farewel good Fellow. Pet. For all this fame, I'll hide me here about,

His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.

Rom. Thou deteftable Maw, thou Womb of Death, Gorg'd with the deareft Morfel of the Earth:

Thus I enforce thy rotten Jaws to open,

[Exit.

[Breaking open the Monument.

And in defpight, I'll cram thee with more Food.
Par. This is that banisht haughty Mountague
That murthered my Love's Coufin; with which Grief,

It is fuppofed the Fair Creature died,

And here is come to do fome Villanous Shame
To the dead Bodies: I will apprehend him.
Stop thy unhollowed Toil, vile Mountague:
Ca Vengeance be purfu'd further than Ďeath?
Condemned Villain, I do apprehend thee;
Obey, and go with me, for thou must Die:

Rom. I muft indeed, and therefore came I hither...
Good gentle Youth, tempt not a defperate Man,
Fly hence and leave me, think upon thofe gone,
Let them affright thee. I befeech thee, Youth,'
Pull not another Sin upon my Head,
By urging me to Fury. O be gone,
By Heav'n I love thee better than my felf;

For

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