And finding him, the Searchers of the town,
Suspecting that we Both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence 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 send it ; here it is again;
Nor get a Messenger 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 Yohn, go hence,
Get me an iron Crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.

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

Law, Now must I to the Monument alone ; Within these three hours will fair Juliet wake; She will beshrew 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. Poor living coarse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! [Exit.

SCENE changes to a Church-yard: In it, a

Monument belonging to the Capulets.

Enter Paris, and his Page, with a light.
Par. LIVE me

aloof.
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 shall no foot upon the church-yard tread,
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of Gravesy
But thou shalt hear it : whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'ít something approach.
Give me those flow'rs. Do as I bid thee; go.

Page.

hand;

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 strew:

[Strewing flowers, Fair Juliet, that with angels doft remain, Accept this latest favour at

my That living honour'd thee, and, being dead, With fun'ral obsequies adorn thy tomb. [The boy whifles. - The 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, 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'st or seeft, 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 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 : besides, he brings the Mattock and Crow to wrench open Juliet's Grave, an office hardly to be intrusted with a Servant of that Family. We find a little above, at the very beginning of this Act, Balthafar is the Person who brings Romeo the News of his Bride's Death: and yet, at the Close of the Play, Peter takes upon him to depose that He brought those Tidings. Viri creditis, Quirites: -- In short, We heard Balthafar deliver the Message; and therefore Peter is a lying Evidence, suborn'd by the blundering Editors. We must therefore cashier him, and put Balthafar on his proper Duty. The Source of this Error seems easy to be accounted for; Peter's Character ending in the 4th A&, 'tis very probable the same Person 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 shall 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 savage, 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 shalt 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 detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,

[Breaking open the Monument. And in despight I'll cram thee with more food.

Par. This is that banisht haughty Montague,
That murther'd my love's cousin ; (with which grief,
It is supposed, the fair Creature dy'd,)
And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.
Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague :
Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death?
Condemned villain, 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 desp'rate man ;
Fly hence and leave me: think upon

these

gone,
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
Pull not another sin 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 commiseration,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.

Roma

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 sain ;. if thou be merciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

[Dyes. Rom. In faith, I will : let me peruse this face Mercutio's kinsman ! Noble County Paris ! What said my man, when my betossed soul Did not attend him as we rode? I think, He told me, Paris should 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 so ? 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, slaughter'd Youth ; For here lyes Juliet; and her beauty makes This vault a feasting Presence full of Light. Death, lye thou here, a dead man interr'd:

[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 I
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 ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Tybalt, ly'st thou there in thy bloody sheet?"
Oh, what more favour can I do to thee,
Than with that hand, that cut thy youth in twain;
To sunder his, that was thy enemy?
Forgive me, coufin.

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

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 set up my everlasting Reft ;
And shake the yoke of inauspicious 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 kiss
A-dateless bargain to engrossing death!
Come, bitter conduct ! come unsav'ry guide !
Thou desp’rate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks my sea-sick, weary, bark:
Here's to my love! oh, true apothecary!

Drinks the poifon. Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

[Diese (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 !

Thy Drugs are quick)] Mr. Popi's, and some other of the worser, Editions acknowledge absurdly the Lines which I have put into Parenthesis here; and which I have expung'd from the Text, for this Reason : Romeo is made to confess the Effect of the Poison, before ever he has tasted it. I suppose, it hardly was so savoury that the Patient should chuse to make two Draughts of it. And, cight Lines after these, we find him taking the Poison 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 intant Force and Effects. Besides, Shakespeare would hardly have made Romeo drink to the Health of his dead Mistress. Tho' the first Quarto ia 1999, and the two old Folio's acknowledge this abfurd Stuff, I find it left our in several latter Quarto Impressions. I ought to take notice, that tho' Mr. Pope has thought fit to stick to the old Copies in this Addition, yet he is no fair Transcriber; for he has sunk upon as an Hemistich of most profound Absurdity, which possesses all those Copies.

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

Enter