watch now! detail...
act vscene i. mantua. a street. enter romeo romeo if i may trust the flattering truth of sleep,my dreams presage some joyful news at hand: my bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;and all this day an unaccustom'd spirit lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.i dreamt my lady came and found me dead-- strange dream, that gives a dead man leaveto think!-- and breathed such life with kisses in my lips,that i revived, and was an emperor. ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,when but love's shadows are so rich in joy!
enter balthasar, bootednews from verona!--how now, balthasar! dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?how doth my lady? is my father well? how fares my juliet? that i ask again;for nothing can be ill, if she be well. balthasar then she is well, and nothing can be ill:her body sleeps in capel's monument, and her immortal part with angels lives.i saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, and presently took post to tell it you:o, pardon me for bringing these ill news, since you did leave it for my office, sir. is it even so? then i defy you, stars!thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,
and hire post-horses; i will hence to-night. i do beseech you, sir, have patience:your looks are pale and wild, and do import some misadventure. tush, thou art deceived:leave me, and do the thing i bid thee do. hast thou no letters to me from the friar? no, my good lord. no matter: get thee gone,and hire those horses; i'll be with thee straight. exit balthasarwell, juliet, i will lie with thee to-night. let's see for means: o mischief, thou artswift
to enter in the thoughts of desperate men!i do remember an apothecary,-- and hereabouts he dwells,--which late i notedin tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, culling of simples; meagre were his looks,sharp misery had worn him to the bones: and in his needy shop a tortoise hung,an alligator stuff'd, and other skins of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelvesa beggarly account of empty boxes, green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds,remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses, were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.noting this penury, to myself i said 'an if a man did need a poison now,whose sale is present death in mantua, here lives a caitiff wretch would sell ithim.'
o, this same thought did but forerun my need;and this same needy man must sell it me. as i remember, this should be the house.being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. what, ho! apothecary! enter apothecary apothecary who calls so loud? come hither, man. i see that thou art poor:hold, there is forty ducats: let me have a dram of poison, such soon-speeding gearas will disperse itself through all the veins that the life-weary taker may fall deadand that the trunk may be discharged of breath
as violently as hasty powder fireddoth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. such mortal drugs i have; but mantua's lawis death to any he that utters them. art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,and fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; the world is not thy friend nor the world'slaw; the world affords no law to make thee rich;then be not poor, but break it, and take this. my poverty, but not my will, consents. i pay thy poverty, and not thy will. put this in any liquid thing you will,and drink it off; and, if you had the strength
of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight. there is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,doing more murders in this loathsome world, than these poor compounds that thou maystnot 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 meto juliet's grave; for there must i use thee. exeunt scene ii. friar laurence's cell. enter friar john friar john
holy franciscan friar! brother, ho! enter friar laurence friar laurence 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. going to find a bare-foot brother outone of our order, to associate me, here in this city visiting the sick,and finding him, the searchers of the town, suspecting that we both were in a housewhere the infectious pestilence did reign, seal'd up the doors, and would not let usforth;
so that my speed to mantua there was stay'd. who bare my letter, then, to romeo? i could not send it,--here it is again,--nor get a messenger to bring it thee, so fearful were they of infection. unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,the letter was not nice but full of charge of dear import, and the neglecting itmay do much danger. friar john, go hence; get me an iron crow, and bring it straightunto my cell. brother, i'll go and bring it thee. exit
now must i to the monument alone;within three hours will fair juliet wake: she will beshrew me much that romeohath had no notice of these accidents; but i will write again to mantua,and keep her at my cell till romeo come; poor living corse, closed in a dead man'stomb! scene iii. a churchyard; in it a tomb belongingto the capulets. enter paris, and his page bearing flowersand a torch paris give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof:yet put it out, for i would not be seen. under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
so shall no foot upon the churchyard 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 [aside] i am almost afraid to stand alonehere in the churchyard; yet i will adventure. retires sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bedi strew,-- o woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;--which with sweet water nightly i will dew, or, wanting that, with tears distill'd bymoans:
the obsequies that i for thee will keepnightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. the page whistlesthe 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, awhile. enter romeo and balthasar, with a torch, mattock,& c 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,whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,and do not interrupt me in my course.
why i descend into this bed of death,is partly to behold my lady's face; but chiefly to take thence from her dead fingera precious ring, a ring that i must use in dear employment: therefore hence, be gone:but if thou, jealous, dost return to pry in what i further shall intend to do,by heaven, i will tear thee joint by joint and strew this hungry churchyard with thylimbs: the time and my intents are savage-wild,more fierce and more inexorable far than empty tigers or the roaring sea. i will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. so shalt thou show me friendship. take thouthat:
live, and be prosperous: and farewell, goodfellow. [aside] for all this same, i'll hide me hereabout:his looks i fear, and his intents i doubt. thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, thus i enforce thy rotten jaws to open,and, in despite, i'll cram thee with more food! opens the tomb 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 villanous shameto the dead bodies: i will apprehend him.
comes forwardstop thy unhallow'd toil, vile montague! can vengeance be pursued further than death?condemned villain, i do apprehend thee: obey, and go with me; for thou must die. i must indeed; and therefore came i hither.good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man; fly hence, and leave me: think upon thesegone; let them affright thee. i beseech thee, youth,put not another sin upon my head, by urging me to fury: o, be gone!by heaven, i love thee better than myself; for i come hither arm'd against myself:stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say, a madman's mercy bade thee run away.
i do defy thy conjurations,and apprehend thee for a felon here. wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy! they fight o lord, they fight! i will go call the watch. o, i am slain! fallsif thou be merciful, open the tomb, lay me with juliet. dies in faith, i will. let me peruse this face.mercutio's kinsman, noble county paris!
what said my man, when my betossed souldid 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,for here lies juliet, and her beauty makes this vault a feasting presence full of light.death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. laying paris in the tombhow oft when men are at the point of death have they been merry! which their keeperscall a lightning before death: o, how may icall 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 yetis 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 twainto 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 nightdepart 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, lookyour last! arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, oyou the doors of breath, seal with a righteouskiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death!come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! thou desperate pilot, now at once run onthe dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! here's to my love! drinkso true apothecary!
thy drugs are quick. thus with a kiss i die. enter, at the other end of the churchyard,friar laurence, with a lantern, crow, and spade saint francis be my speed! how oft to-nighthave my old feet stumbled at graves! who's there? here's one, a friend, and one that knows youwell. bliss be upon you! tell me, good my friend,what torch is yond, that vainly lends his lightto grubs and eyeless skulls? as i discern, it burneth in the capel's monument.
it doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,one that you love. who is it? romeo. how long hath he been there? full half an hour. go with me to the vault. i dare not, sirmy master knows not but i am gone hence; and fearfully did menace me with death,if i did stay to look on his intents. stay, then; i'll go alone. fear comes uponme:
o, much i fear some ill unlucky thing. as i did sleep under this yew-tree here,i dreamt my master and another fought, and that my master slew him. romeo! advancesalack, alack, what blood is this, which stains the stony entrance of this sepulchre?what mean these masterless and gory swords to lie discolour'd by this place of peace? enters the tombromeo! o, pale! who else? what, paris too? and steep'd in blood? ah, what an unkind houris guilty of this lamentable chance!
the lady stirs. juliet wakes juliet o comfortable friar! where is my lord?i do remember well where i should be, and there i am. where is my romeo? noise within i hear some noise. lady, come from that nestof death, contagion, and unnatural sleep: a greater power than we can contradicthath thwarted our intents. come, come away. thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;and paris too. come, i'll dispose of thee
among a sisterhood of holy nuns:stay not to question, for the watch is coming; come, go, good juliet, noise againi dare no longer stay. go, get thee hence, for i will not away. exit friar laurencewhat's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?poison, i see, hath been his timeless end: o churl! drunk all, and left no friendly dropto help me after? i will kiss thy lips; haply some poison yet doth hang on them,to make die with a restorative. kisses himthy lips are warm.
first watchman [within] lead, boy: which way? yea, noise? then i'll be brief. o happy dagger! snatching romeo's daggerthis is thy sheath; stabs herselfthere rust, and let me die. falls on romeo's body, and dies enter watch, with the page of paris this is the place; there, where the torchdoth burn. the ground is bloody; search about the churchyard:go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach.
pitiful sight! here lies the county slain,and juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, who here hath lain these two days buried.go, tell the prince: run to the capulets: raise up the montagues: some others search:we see the ground whereon these woes do lie; but the true ground of all these piteous woeswe cannot without circumstance descry. re-enter some of the watch, with balthasar second watchman here's romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard. hold him in safety, till the prince come hither. re-enter others of the watch, with friar laurence
third watchman here is a friar, that trembles, sighs andweeps: we took this mattock and this spade from him,as he was coming from this churchyard side. a great suspicion: stay the friar too. enter the prince and attendants prince what misadventure is so early up,that calls our person from our morning's rest? enter capulet, lady capulet, and others capulet
what should it be, that they so shriek abroad? lady capulet the people in the street cry romeo,some juliet, and some paris; and all run, with open outcry toward our monument. what fear is this which startles in our ears? sovereign, here lies the county paris slain;and romeo dead; and juliet, dead before, warm and new kill'd. search, seek, and know how this foul murdercomes. here is a friar, and slaughter'd romeo's man;with instruments upon them, fit to open
these dead men's tombs. o heavens! o wife, look how our daughter bleeds!this dagger hath mista'en--for, lo, his house is empty on the back of montague,--and it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom! o me! this sight of death is as a bell,that warns my old age to a sepulchre. enter montague and others come, montague; for thou art early up,to see thy son and heir more early down. montague alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath: what further woe conspires against mine age?
look, and thou shalt see. o thou untaught! what manners is in this?to press before thy father to a grave? seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,till we can clear these ambiguities, and know their spring, their head, theirtrue descent; and then will i be general of your woes,and lead you even to death: meantime forbear, and let mischance be slave to patience.bring forth the parties of suspicion. i am the greatest, able to do least,yet most suspected, as the time and place doth make against me of this direful murder;and here i stand, both to impeach and purge myself condemned and myself excused.
then say at once what thou dost know in this. i will be brief, for my short date of breathis not so long as is a tedious tale. romeo, there dead, was husband to that juliet;and she, there dead, that romeo's faithful wife:i married them; and their stol'n marriage-day was tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely deathbanish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city,for whom, and not for tybalt, juliet pined. you, to remove that siege of grief from her,betroth'd and would have married her perforce to county paris: then comes she to me,and, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean to rid her from this second marriage,or in my cell there would she kill herself.
then gave i her, so tutor'd by my art,a sleeping potion; which so took effect as i intended, for it wrought on herthe form of death: meantime i writ to romeo, that he should hither come as this dire night,to help to take her from her borrow'd grave, being the time the potion's force should cease.but he which bore my letter, friar john, was stay'd by accident, and yesternightreturn'd my letter back. then all alone at the prefixed hour of her waking,came i to take her from her kindred's vault; meaning to keep her closely at my cell,till i conveniently could send to romeo: but when i came, some minute ere the timeof her awaking, here untimely lay the noble paris and true romeo dead.she wakes; and i entreated her come forth,
and bear this work of heaven with patience:but then a noise did scare me from the tomb; and she, too desperate, would not go withme, but, as it seems, did violence on herself.all this i know; and to the marriage her nurse is privy: and, if aught in thismiscarried by my fault, let my old life be sacrificed, some hour before his time,unto the rigour of severest law. we still have known thee for a holy man.where's romeo's man? what can he say in this? i brought my master news of juliet's death;and then in post he came from mantua to this same place, to this same monument.this letter he early bid me give his father, and threatened me with death, going in thevault,
i departed not and left him there. give me the letter; i will look on it.where is the county's page, that raised the watch?sirrah, what made your master in this place? he came with flowers to strew his lady's grave;and bid me stand aloof, and so i did: anon comes one with light to ope the tomb;and by and by my master drew on him; and then i ran away to call the watch. this letter doth make good the friar's words,their course of love, the tidings of her death: and here he writes that he did buy a poisonof a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal came to this vault to die, and lie with juliet.where be these enemies? capulet! montague!
see, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,that heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.and i for winking at your discords too have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd. o brother montague, give me thy hand:this is my daughter's jointure, for no more can i demand. 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 such rate be set as that of true and faithful juliet. as rich shall romeo's by his lady's lie;poor sacrifices of our enmity!
a glooming peace this morning with it brings;the sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: for never was a story of more woethan this of juliet and her romeo.
