And finding him, the Searchers of the town,
Sufpecting that we Both were in a house
Where the infectious peftilence did reign,
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;
So that my speed to Mantua there was staid.
Law. Who bore 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 me an iron Crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.

John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.

Law. Now muft I to the Monument alone; Within these three hours will fair Juliet wake; She will befhrew me much, that Romeo

Hath had no notice of these 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.

SCENE changes to a Church-yard: In it, a Monument belonging to the Capulets.

Par.

Enter Paris, and his Page, with a light.

IVE me thy torch, boy; hence and stand aloof.

GIV

Yet put it out, for I would not be seen :
Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
Laying thy ear close to the hollow ground;
So fhall no foot upon the church-yard tread,
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of Graves)
But thou fhalt hear it: whistle then to me,
As fignal that thou hear'ft fomething approach.
Give me those flow'rs. Do as I bid thee; go.

Page.

Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone

Here in the church-yard, yet I will adventure. [Exit.
Par. Sweet flow'r! with flow'rs thy bridal bed I ftrew :
[Strewing flowers.
Fair Juliet, that with angels doft remain,
Accept this latest favour at my

hand;

That living honour'd thee, and, being dead,

With fun'ral obfequies adorn thy tomb. [The boy whiftles.
-The boy gives warning, fomething doth approach ;-
What curfed foot wanders this way to night,

To cross my Obfequies, and true love's rite?
What! with a torch ? muffle me, night, a while.

Enter Romeo and Balthafar with a light. (15)

Rom. 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'ft or feeft, ftand all aloof,
And do not interrupt me in
my courfe.

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;

(15) Enter Romeo and Peter with a Light.] But Peter was a Servant of the Capulets: befides, he brings the Mattock and Crow to wrench open Juliet's Grave, an Office hardly to be intrufted with a Servant of that Family. We find a little above, at the very beginning of this Act, Balthafar is the Perfon who brings Romeo the News of his Bride's Death: and yet, at the Clofe of the Play, Peter takes upon him to depose that He brought thofe Tidings. Utri creditis, Quirites? -- In short, We heard Balthafar deliver the Meffage; and therefore Peter is a lying Evidence, fuborn'd by the blundering Editors. We must therefore cafhier him, and put Balthafar on his proper Duty. The Source of this Error feems eafy to be accounted for; Peter's Chara&er ending in the 4th A&t, 'tis very probable the fame Perfon might play Balthafar, and so be quoted on in the Prompter's Book as Peter.

But

But if thou, jealous, doft return to pry
In what I further fhall intend to do,
By heaven, 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.

Balth. I will be gone, Sir, and not trouble you.
Rom. So fhalt thou fhew me Friendship. Take

thou that;

Live and be profp'rous, and farewel, good fellow.
Balth. For all this fame, I'll hide me hereabout;
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. Exit Balth.

Rom. Thou deteftable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morfel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,

[Breaking open the Monument.
And in defpight I'll cram thee with more food.
Par. This is that banisht haughty Montague,
That murther'd my love's coufin; (with which grief,

It is fuppofed, the fair Creature dy'd,)

And here is come to do fome villanous fhame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.
Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague:
Can vengeance be purfu'd further than death?
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 desp❜rate man ;
Fly hence and leave me think upon thefe gone,
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
Pull not another fin upon my head,
By urging me to fury. Oh be gone!
By heav'n, I love thee better than my self;
For I come hither arm'd against my self.
Stay not, begone; live, and hereafter say,
A madman's Mercy bade thee run away.
Par. I do defie thy commiferation,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.

Rom

Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy,

[They fight, Paris falls. Page. Oh lord, they fight! I will go call the Watch. Par. Oh, I am flain; if thou be merciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

[Dyes.
Rom. In faith, I will let me perufe this face
Mercutio's kinfman! Noble County Paris!
What faid my man, when my betoffed foul
Did not attend him as we rode ? I think,
He told me, Paris fhould have married Juliet.
Said he not fo? or did I dream it fo?
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
To think it was fo? Oh give me thy hand,
One writ with me in four Misfortune's book,
I'll bury thee in a triumphant Grave.

A Grave? O, no; a Lanthorn, flaughter'd Youth ✈
For here lyes Juliet; and her beauty makes
This vault a feafting Prefence full of Light.
Death, lye thou there, by a dead man interr'd :-

I

[Laying Paris in the Monument.
How oft, when Men are at the point of Death,
Have they been merry? which their Keepers call
A Lightning before Death.
O, how may
Call this a Lightning! Oh my love, my wife!
Death, that hath fuckt the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty :
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's enfign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Tybalt, ly'ft thou there in thy bloody fheet ?
Oh, what more favour can I do to thee,

Than with that hand, that cut thy youth in twain,
To funder his, that was thy enemy?
Forgive me, coufin. Ah dear Juliet,

Why art thou yet fo fair? fhall I believe
That unfubftantial death is amorous,
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark, to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I ftill will ftay with thee;

And

And never from this Palace of dim night (16)
Depart again: Here, here will I remain,

With worms that are thy chamber-maids; oh here
Will I fet up my everlasting Rest;

And shake the yoke of inaufpicious stars

From this world-weary'd flesh. Eyes, look your last!
Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, oh you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kifs
A-dateless bargain to engroffing death!
Come, bitter conduct! come unfav'ry guide!
Thou defp'rate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks my fea-fick, weary, bark:
Here's to my love! oh, true apothecary!

Drinks the poison. Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kifs I die.

(16) And never from this Palace of dim night

Depart again. (Come, lye Thou in my Arms;
Here's to thy Health. O true Apothecary!

[Dies.

Thy Drugs are quick)] Mr. Pope's, and fome other of the worfer, Editions acknowledge abfurdly the Lines which I have put into Parenthefis here; and which I have expung'd from the Text, for this Reason: Romeo is made to confefs the Effect of the Poison, before ever he has tafted it. I fuppofe, it hardly was fo favoury that the Patient fhould chufe to make two Draughts of it. And, eight Lines after these, we find him taking the Poifon in his Hands and making an Apostrophe to it; inviting it to perform its Office at once; and then, and not 'till then, does he clap it to his Lips, or can with any Probability speak of its inftant Force and Effects. Befides, Shakespeare would hardly have made Romeo drink to the Health of his dead Miftrefs. Tho' the firft Quarto in 1599, and the two old Folio's acknowledge this abfurd Stuff, I find it left out in feveral latter Quarto Impreffions. I ought to take notice, that tho' Mr. Pope has thought fit to ftick to the old Copies in this Addition, yet he is no fair Transcriber; for he has funk upon us an Hemiftich of moft profound Abfurdity, which poffeffes all those Copies.

Come, lye thon in my Arms;
Here's to thy Health, where-e'er thou tumbleft in.
O true Apothecary! &c.

Enter