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That the life-wearie taker may fall dead,

And that the trunke may be dischargd of breath,
As violently, as haftie powder fierd

Doth hurry from the fatall canons wombe,

Poti. Such mortall drugs I haue, but Mantuas law

Is death to any he that vtters them.

Ro. Art thou fo bare and full of wretchedneffe,
And feareft to die, famine is in thy cheekes,
Need and oppreffion ftarueth in thy eyes,
Contempt and beggery hangs † vpon thy backe:
The world is not thy friend, nor the worlds law,
The world affoords no law to make thee rich :
Then be not poore, but breake it and take this.
Po. My pouerty, but not my will confents.
Ro I pray thy pouerty and not thy will.
Po. Put this in any liquid thing you will
And drinke it off, and if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.

Ro. There is thy gold, worse poyfon to mens foules,
Doing more murther in this loathfome world,
Then these poore compounds that thou maieft not fell,
I fell thee poyfon, thou haft fold me none,
Farewell, buy foode, and get thy felfe in flesh.
Come cordiall and not poyfon, go with me
To Juliets graue, for there muft I vse thee.

Enter frier Iohn to frier Lawrence.
Ioh. Holy Francifcan frier, brother, ho.

Enter Lawrence.

Law. This fame fhould be the voice of frier John,

Welcome from Mantua, what fayes Romeo?

Or if his mind be writ, giue me his letter.

Exeunt.

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Joh. Going to find a barefoote brother out, One of our order to affociate me,

Here in this citie vifiting the ficke,

And finding him, the fearchers of the towne
Sufpecting that we both were in a house,
Where the infectious peftilence did raigne,
Seald vp the doores, and would not let vs forth,
So that my speed to Mantua there was staid.
Law. Who bare my letter then to Romeo?
John. I could not fend it, here it is againe,
Nor get a meffenger to bring it thee,
So fearefull were they of infection.

Law. Vnhappie fortune, by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice, but full of charge,
Of deare import, and the neglecting it,
May do much danger frier John go hence,
Get me an iron crow and bring it straight
Vnto my cell.

John. Brother Ile go and bring it thee.

(Exit.

Law. Now muft I to the monument alone,

Within this three houres will faire Iuliet wake,

Shee will befhrew me much that Romeo

Hath had no notice of these accidents :

But I will write againe to Mantua,

And keepe her at my cell till Romeo come,

Poore liuing coarfe, clofde in a dead mans tombe.

(Exit.

Enter Paris and his page.

Par. Giue me thy torch boy, hence and stand aloofe,

Yet put it out, for I would not be feene :

Vader yond young trees lay thee all along,
Holding thy eare close to the hollow ground,
So fhall no foot vpon the churchyard tread,
Being loose, vnfirme with digging vp of graues,

But

But thou shalt heare it, whistle then to me,
As fignall that thou hearest some thing approach,
Giue me those flowers, do as I bid thee, go.
Pag. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the church-yard, yet I will aduenture.

Par. Sweet flower with flowers thy bridall bed I strew,

O woe, thy canapie is duft and ftones,

Which with sweet water nightly I will dewe *,

Or wanting that, with teares diftild by mones;
The obfequies that I for thee will kcepe,
Nightly fhall be, to ftrew thy graue and weepe.

Whistle boy.

The boy giues warning, fomething doth approach,
What curfed foot wanders this way to night,
To croffe my obfequies and true loues right?
What with a torch ? muffle me night a while.

Enter Romeo and Peter.,

Ro. Giue me the mattocke and the wrenching iron. Hold take this letter, early in the morning

See thou deliuer it to my lord and father,

Giue me the light; vpon thy life I charge thee,
What ere thou heareft or feeft, ftand all aloofe,
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I defcend into this bed of death,
Is partly to behold my ladies face:

But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger,
A precious ring: a ring that I must vse,
In deare employment, therefore hence be gone:
But if thou iealous doft returne to prie
In what I farther fhall intend to do,

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By heauen I will teare thee ioynt by ioynt,
And ftrew this hungry church-yard with thy lims:
The time and my intents are fauage wilde,
More fierce and more inexorable farre,
Then emptie tygers, or the roaring fea.

Pet. I will be gone fir, and not trouble you.
Ro. So fhalt thou fhew me friendship, take thou that,
Liue and be profperous, and farewell good fellow.
Pet. For all this fame, Ile hide me here about.
His lookes I feare, and his intents I doubt,

Ro. Thou deteftable mawe, thou wombe of death,
Gorg'd with the deareft morfell of the earth:
Thus I enforce thy rotten iawes to open,
And in defpight Ile cram thee with more food.

Pa. This is that banifht haughtic Mountague,
That murdred my loues couzin; with which griefe,
It is fuppofed the faire creature died,

And here is come to do fome villanous fhame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him,
Stop thy vnhallowed toyle, vile Mountague :
Can vengeance be pursued further then death?
Condemned villaine, I do apprehend thee.
Obey and go with me, for thou must die."

Rom. I must indeed, and therefore came I hither,
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man,

Flie hence and leaue

me, thinke vpon these gone, Let them affright thee. I befeech thee youth,

Put not an other fin vpon my head,

By vrging me to furie, O be gone,

By heauen I loue thee better then my felfe,
For I come hither armde against my felfe:

Stay not, be gone, liue,
A mad mans mercy bid

and hereafter fay,
thee run away.

bads

Par.

Par. I do defie thy commifferation,

And apprehend thee for a fellon here.

Ro. Wilt thou prouoke me? then haue at thee boy.
O lord they fight, I will go call the watch.
Par. O I am flaine, if thou be mercifull,
Open the tombe, lay me with Iuliet.

Rom. In faith I will, let me perufe this face,
Mercutius kinfman, noble countie Paris,
What faid my man, when my betoffed foule
Did not attend him as we rode ? I thinke
He told me Paris should haue married Juliet.
Said he not fo? or did I dreame it so?
Or am I mad, hearing him talke of Iuliet,
To thinke it was fo? O giue me thy hand,
One, writ with me in fowre misfortunes booke.
Ile burie thee in a triumphant graue.

A graue; O no, a lanthorne; flaughtred youth:
For here lies Juliet, and her beautie makes
This vault a feasting presence full of light.
Death lie thou there by a dead man interd,
How oft when men are at the point of death,
Haue they beene merrie? which their keepers call
A lightning before death? Oh how may I
Call this a lightning? O my loue, my wife,
Death that hath fuckt the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet vpon thy beautie:
Thou art not conquerd, beauties enfigne yet
Is crymfon in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And deaths pale flag is not aduanced there.
Tybalt lyeft thou there in thy bloudy sheet?
O what more fauour can I do to thee,

Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine,
To funder his that was thine enemie ?

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