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?
Juliet.
Yea, noise?—Then I’ll be brief.—O happy dagger!
[Snatching Romeo’s dagger.]
This is thy sheath [stabs herself]; there rest, 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 of the Watch.]
Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;—
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead,
Who here hath lain this two days buried.—
Go, tell the prince;—run to the Capulets,—
Raise up the Montagues,—some others search:—
[Exeunt others of the Watch.]
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
But the true ground of all these piteous woes
We cannot without circumstance descry.
[Re-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 hither.
[Re-enter others of the Watch with Friar Lawrence.]
3 Watch.
Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and weeps:
We took this mattock and this spade from him
As he was coming from this churchyard side.
1 Watch. A great suspicion: stay the friar too.
[Enter the 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.]
Capulet.
What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?
Lady Capulet.
The people in the street cry Romeo,
Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run,
With open outcry, toward our monument.
Prince.
What fear is this which startles in our ears?
1 Watch.
Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain;
And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,
Warm and new kill’d.
Prince.
Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.
1 Watch.
Here is a friar, and slaughter’d Romeo’s man,
With instruments upon them fit to open
These dead men’s tombs.
Capulet.
O heaven!—O wife, look how our daughter bleeds!
This dagger hath mista’en,—for, lo, his house
Is empty on the back of Montague,—
And it mis-sheathed in my daughter’s bosom!
Lady Capulet.
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.
Montague.
Alas, my liege, my wife is dead tonight;
Grief of my son’s exile hath stopp’d her breath:
What further woe conspires against mine age?
Prince.
Look, and thou shalt see.
Montague.
O thou untaught! what manners is in this,
To press before thy father to a grave?
Prince.
Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
Till we can clear these ambiguities,
And know their spring, their head, their true descent;
And then will I be general of your woes,
And lead you even to death: meantime forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.—
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
Friar.
I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet most suspected, as the time and place
Doth make against me, of this direful murder;
And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
Myself condemned and myself excus’d.
Prince.
Then say at once what thou dost know in this.
Friar.
I will be brief, for
