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Banisht the new-made bridegroome from this citie,
For whom, and not for Tibalt, Iuliet pin'd.
You, to remoue that fiege of griefe from her
Betroth'd and would haue married her perforce
To county Paris. Then comes fhe to me,
And with wild lookes bid me deuife fome meanes
To rid her from this fecond marriage:

Or in my cell there would she kill her felfe.
Then gaue I her (fo tuterd by my art)
A fleeping potion, which fo tooke effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her

The forme of death, meane time I writ to Romeo
That he should hither come as this dire night
To help to take her from her borrowed graue,
Being the time the potions force fhould cease.
But he which bore my letter, frier Iohn,
Was stayed by accident, and yesternight
Returned my letter back, then all alone
At the prefixed hower of her waking,
Came I to take her from her kindreds vault,
Meaning to keepe her closely at my cell,
Till I conueniently could fend to Romeo.
But when I came fome minute ere the time
Of her awaking, here vntimely lay,
The noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.
She wakes, and I entreated her come forth
And beare this worke of heauen with patience :
But then a noife did fcare me from the tombe,
And she too defperate would not goe with me:
But as it feemes, did violence on her felfe.

All this I know, and to the marriage her nurfe is priuie:

And if ought in this mifcaried by my fault,

Let my old life be facrific'd fome houre before the time,
Vato the rigour of feuereft law.

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Prin. We ftill haue knowne thee for a holy man,
Whers Romeos man? what can he fay to this?

Balth. I brought my mafter newes of Iuliets death,
And then in poft he came from Mantua,
To this fame place. To this fame monument
This letter he early bid me giue his father,
And threatned me with death, going into the vault,
If I departed not, and leaft him there.

Prin. Giue me the letter I will looke on it.
Where is the counties page that raifd the watch?
Sirrah what made your mafter in this place?

Boy. He came with flowers to ftrew his ladies graue,

And bid me ftand aloofe, and fo I did,

Anon comes one with light to ope the tombe

And by and by my maifter drew on him,

And then I ran away to call the watch.

Prin. This letter doth make good the friers words,
Their courfe of loue the tidings of her death,
And here he writes that he did buy a poyfon
Of a poore pothecarie, and there withall,
Came to this vault, to die and lye with Iuliet.
Where be thefe enemies? Capulet, Mountague?
See what a fcourge is laide vpon your hate?
That heauen finds means to kil your ioyes with loue,
And I for winking at your difcords too,

Haue loft a brafe of kinfmen, all are punisht.

Cap. O brother Mountague, giue me thy hand,
This is my daughters ioynture, for no more
Can I demaund.

Moun. But I can giue thee more,

For I will raie* her statue in pure gold,
That whiles Verona by that name is knowne,

* raise.

There

There fhall no figure at that rate be set,
As that of true and faithfull Iuliet.

Cap. As rich fhall Romeos by his ladies lie,

Poore facrifices of our enmitie.

Prin. A glooming peace this morning with it brings,

The fun for forrow will not fhew his head :

Go hence to haue more talke of thefe fad things,
Some shall be pardoned, and fome punished.

For neuer was a ftorie of more woe,

Then this of Iuliet and her Romeo.

FIN I S.

This Play has been collated with another Copy printed in 1637; R. Young, for John Smethwicke.

THE

TRAGICALL HISTORIE

O F

HA M LET

PRINCE of DENMARKE.

B Y

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

Newly imprinted, and enlarged to almoft as much againe as it was, according to the true and perfect coppie.

At LONDON:

Printed for John Smethwicke, and are fold at his shoppe in Saint Dunftons Church yeard in Fleetstreet, under the Dial 1611.

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