Pri. What feare is this which startles in your eares? Wat. Soueraigne, here lies the Countie Paris slaine, And Romeo dead, and Iuliet dead before, Warme and new kil'd

Prin. Search, Seeke, and know how, this foule murder comes

Wat. Here is a Frier, and Slaughter'd Romeos man, With Instruments vpon them fit to open These dead mens Tombes

Cap. O heauen! O wife looke how our Daughter bleedes! This Dagger hath mistaine, for loe his house Is empty on the backe of Mountague, And is misheathed in my Daughters bosome

Wife. O me, this sight of death, is as a Bell That warnes my old age to a Sepulcher. Enter Mountague.

Pri. Come Mountague, for thou art early vp To see thy Sonne and Heire, now early downe

Moun. Alas my liege, my wife is dead to night, Griefe of my Sonnes exile hath stopt her breath: What further woe conspires against my age? Prin. Looke: and thou shalt see

Moun. O thou vntaught, what manners is in this, To presse before thy Father to a graue? Prin. Seale vp the mouth of outrage for a while, Till we can cleare these ambiguities, And know their spring, their head, their true descent, And then I will be generall of your woes, And lead you euen to death? meane time forbeare, And let mischance be slaue to patience, Bring forth the parties of suspition

Fri. I am the greatest, able to doe least, Yet most suspected as the time and place Doth make against me of this direfull murther: And heere I stand both to impeach and purge My selfe condemned, and my selfe excus'd

Prin. Then say at once, what thou dost know in this? Fri. I will be briefe, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale. Romeo there dead, was husband to that Iuliet, And she there dead, that's Romeos faithfull wife: I married them; and their stolne marriage day Was Tybalts Doomesday: whose vntimely death Banish'd the new-made Bridegroome from this Citie: For whom (and not for Tybalt) Iuliet pinde. You, to remoue that siege of Greefe from her, Betroth'd, and would haue married her perforce To Countie Paris. Then comes she to me, And (with wilde lookes) bid me deuise some meanes To rid her from this second Marriage, Or in my Cell there would she kill her selfe. Then gaue I her (so Tutor'd by my Art) A sleeping Potion, which so tooke effect As I intended, for it wrought on her The forme of death. Meane time, I writ to Romeo, That he should hither come, as this dyre night, To helpe to take her from her borrowed graue, Being the time the Potions force should cease. But he which bore my Letter, Frier Iohn, Was stay'd by accident; and yesternight Return'd my Letter backe. Then all alone, At the prefixed houre of her waking, Came I to take her from her Kindreds vault, Meaning to keepe her closely at my Cell, Till I conueniently could send to Romeo. But when I came (some Minute ere the time Of her awaking) heere vntimely lay The Noble Paris, and true Romeo dead. Shee wakes, and I intreated her come foorth, And beare this worke of Heauen, with patience: But then, a noyse did scarre me from the Tombe, And she (too desperate) would not go with me, But (as it seemes) did violence on her selfe. All this I know, and to the Marriage her Nurse is priuy: And if ought in this miscarried by my fault, Let my old life be sacrific'd, some houre before the time, Vnto the rigour of seuerest Law

Prin. We still haue knowne thee for a Holy man. Where's Romeo's man? What can he say to this? Boy. I brought my Master newes of Iuliets death, And then in poste he came from Mantua To this same place, to this same Monument. This Letter he early bid me giue his Father, And threatned me with death, going in the Vault, If I departed not, and left him there

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