ACT 4, SCENE I. Friar Laurence's cell.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS

On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.

My father Capulet will have it so;
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.

You say you do not know the lady's mind:
Uneven is the course, I like it not.

Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway,
And in his wisdom hastes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society:
Now do you know the reason of this haste.

[Aside] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

Enter JULIET

Happily met, my lady and my wife!

That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.

That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.

What must be shall be.

That's a certain text.

Come you to make confession to this father?

To answer that, I should confess to you.

Do not deny to him that you love me.

I will confess to you that I love him.

So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.

If I do so, it will be of more price,
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.

The tears have got small victory by that;
For it was bad enough before their spite.

Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.

That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.

It may be so, for it is not mine own.
Are you at leisure, holy father, now;
Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

God shield I should disturb devotion!
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye:
Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss.

Exit

ACT 5 SCENE III. A churchyard; in it a tomb belonging to the Capulets.

Enter PARIS, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch

Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof:
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,
Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.

[Aside] I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.

Retires

Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,--
O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;--
Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,
Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans:
The obsequies that I for thee will keep
Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.

The Page whistles

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, awhile.

Retires

Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a torch, mattock, & c

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 seest, 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:
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further shall intend to do,
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint
And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs:
The time and my intents are savage-wild,
More fierce and more inexorable far
Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that:
Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow.

[Aside] For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout:
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.

Retires

Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!

Opens the tomb

This is that banish'd haughty Montague,
That murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief,
It is supposed, the fair creature died;
And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.

Comes forward

Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague!
Can vengeance be pursued further than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.

I must indeed; and therefore came I hither.
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;
Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone;
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
Put not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury: O, be gone!
By heaven, I love thee better than myself;
For I come hither arm'd against myself:
Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say,
A madman's mercy bade thee run away.

I do defy thy conjurations,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.

Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!

They fight

O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.

Exit

O, I am slain!

Falls

If thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

Dies