« FöregåendeFortsätt »
Come, go, good Juliet.- [noise again.] I dare stay no longer.
[Exit. Ju. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's
hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.O churl! drink all; and leave no friendly drop, To help me after ?—I will kiss thy lips; Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them, To make me die with a restorative. [kisses him. Thy lips are warm !
1 Watch. [within.] Lead, boy :—which way ? Ju. Yea, noise ? then I 'll be brief.-0 happy
dagger! [snatching Romeo's dagger. This is thy sheath ; [stabs herself.] there rust, and let me die.
(falls on Romeo's body, and dies.
Enter watch, with the PAGE of Paris. Page. This is the place; there, where the torch
doth burn. 1 Watch. The ground is bloody. Search about
the churchyard : Go, some of you ; whoe'er you find, attach.
(Exeunt some. 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.
[Exeunt other Watchmen.
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
Enter some of the watch, with BALTHASAR. 2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man; we found him
in the churchyard. 1 Watch. Hold him in safety till the prince come
Enter another WATCHMAN,
with FRIAR LAURENCE.
3 Watch. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs,
and weeps :
We took this mattock and this spade from him,
1 Watch. A great suspicion : stay the friar too.
Enter 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.
Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek
Prince. What fear is this, which startles in our
1 ii. e. the scabbard.
1 Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris
And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,
murder comes. 1 Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's
L. Cap. O me! this sight of death is as a bell, That warns my old age to a sepulchre.
Enter MONTAGUE and others.
Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early up, To see thy son and heir more early down.,
Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath. What farther woe conspires against mine age ?
Prince. Look, and thou shalt see.
before thy father to a grave ?