As I intended; for it wrought on her

The form of death. Mean time I writ to Romeo,
That he should hither come, as this dire night,
To help to take her from her borrowed Grave;
Being the time the potion's force fhould ceafe.
But he which bore my letter, Friar John,
Was ftaid by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my letter back; then all alone,
At the prefixed hour of her awaking,
Came I to take her from her kindred's Vault;
Meaning to keep her closely at my Cell,
'Till I conveniently could fend to Romeo.
But when I came, (fome minute ere the time
Of her awaking) here untimely lay
The noble Paris, and true Romeo dead.
She wakes, and I intreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heav'n with patience:
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb,
And the, too defp'rate, would not go with me:
But, as it feems, did violence on her felf.
All this I know, and to the marriage
Her nurfe is privy; but if aught in this
Mifcarried by my fault, let my old life
Be facrific'd, fome hour before the time,
Unto the rigour of feverest law.

Prince. We ftill have known thee for an holy man. Where's Romeo's man? what can he fay to this? Balth. I brought my mafter news of Juliet's death, And then in poft he came from Mantua

To this fame place, to this fame Monument.
This letter he early bid me give his father,

And threatned me with death, going to the Vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.

Prince. Give me the letter, I will look on it. Where is the County's page, that rais'd the Watch? Sirrah, what made your mafter in this place?

Page. He came with flowers to ftrew his lady's Grave, And bid me ftand aloof, and fo I did:

Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb,
And, by and by, my mafter drew on him;

And

And then I ran away to call the Watch.

Prince. This letter doth make good the Friar's words, Their course of love, the tidings of her death: And here he writes, that he did buy a poison Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal Came to this vault to die, and lye with Juliet. Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague! See, what a fcourge is laid upon your hate, That heav'n finds means to kill your joys with love! And I, for winking at your difcords too, Have loft a brace of kinfmen: all are punish'd! Cap. O brother Montague, give me thy hand, This is my daughter's jointure; for no more Can I demand.

Mon. But I can give thee more,

For I will raise her Statue in pure gold;
That, while Verona by that name is known,
There shall no figure at that rate be fet,
As that of true and faithful Juliet.

Cap. As rich fhall Romeo's by his lady lye;
Poor facrifices of our enmity!

Prince. A gloomy Peace this morning with it brings,
The Sun for Sorrow will not fhew his head;

Go hence to have more talk of these fad things;

Some shall be pardon'd, and fome punished.

For never was a ftory of more woe,

Than this of Juliet, and her Romeo.

[Exeunt omnes.