Chapter: Scene III.
Verona. A churchyard; in it the monument of the Capulets.

Enter Paris and his Page with flowers and [a torch].


  Par. Give me thy torch, boy. Hence, and stand aloof.
    Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
    Under yond yew tree 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.

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

  Par. 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.
                                                    Whistle Boy.
    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, a mattock,
                    and a crow of iron.


  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 hearest 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 farther 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.

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

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

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

  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,
    And in despite I'll cram thee with more food.
                                           Romeo opens the tomb.

  Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague
    That murd'red 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.
    Stop thy unhallowed 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,
    But 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 bid thee run away.

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

  Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy!
                                                     They fight.

  Page. O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.
                                            [Exit. Paris falls.]

  Par. O, I am slain! If thou be merciful,
    Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.                   [Dies.]

  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 so? or did I dream it so?
    Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet
    To think it was so? O, give me thy hand,
    One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
    I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave.
    A grave? O, no, a lanthorn, slaught'red youth,
    For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
    This vault a feasting presence full of light.
    Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.
                                         [Lays him in the tomb.]
    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? O my love! my wife!
    Death, that hath suck'd 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, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
    O, what more favour can I do to thee
    Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain
    To sunder his that was thine enemy?
    Forgive me, cousin.' 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 never from this palace of dim night
    Depart again. Here, here will I remain
    With worms that are thy chambermaids. O, here
    Will I set up my everlasting rest
    And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
    From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!
    Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you
    The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
    A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
    Come, bitter conduct; come, unsavoury guide!
    Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
    The dashing rocks thy seasick weary bark!
    Here's to my love! [Drinks.] O true apothecary!
    Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.          Falls.

    Enter Friar [Laurence], with lanthorn, crow, and spade.


  Friar. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night
    Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there?

  Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

  Friar. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,
    What torch is yond that vainly lends his light
    To grubs and eyeless skulls? As I discern,
    It burneth in the Capels' monument.

  Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,
    One that you love.

  Friar. Who is it?

  Bal. Romeo.

  Friar. How long hath he been there?

  Bal. Full half an hour.

  Friar. Go with me to the vault.

  Bal. I dare not, sir.
    My master knows not but I am gone hence,
    And fearfully did menace me with death
    If I did stay to look on his intents.

  Friar. Stay then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me.
    O, much I fear some ill unthrifty thing.

  Bal. As I did sleep under this yew tree here,
    I dreamt my master and another fought,
    And that my master slew him.

  Friar. Romeo!
    Alack, alack, what blood is this which stains
    The stony entrance of this sepulchre?
    What mean these masterless and gory swords
    To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? [Enters the tomb.]
    Romeo! O, pale! Who else? What, Paris too?
    And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour
    Is guilty of this lamentable chance! The lady stirs.
                                                   Juliet rises.

  Jul. O comfortable friar! where is my lord?
    I do remember well where I should be,
    And there I am. Where is my Romeo?

  Friar. I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest
    Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep.
    A greater power than we can contradict
    Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.
    Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;
    And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee
    Among a sisterhood of holy nuns.
    Stay not to question, for the watch is coming.
    Come, go, good Juliet. I dare no longer stay.

  Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.
                                                   Exit [Friar].
    What's here? A cup, clos'd in my true love's hand?
    Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.
    O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop
    To help me after? I will kiss thy lips.
    Haply some poison yet doth hang on them
    To make me die with a restorative.             [Kisses him.]
    Thy lips are warm!

  Chief Watch. [within] Lead, boy. Which way?
    Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!
                                      [Snatches Romeo's dagger.]
    This is thy sheath; there rest, and let me die.
                  She stabs herself and falls [on Romeo's body].

                Enter [Paris's] Boy and Watch.


  Boy. This is the place. There, where the torch doth burn.

  Chief 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.

     Enter [some of the Watch,] with Romeo's Man [Balthasar].

  2. Watch. Here's Romeo's man. We found him in the churchyard.

  Chief Watch. Hold him in safety till the Prince come hither.

          Enter Friar [Laurence] and another Watchman.

  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.

  Chief 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 rest?

            Enter Capulet and his Wife [with others].


  Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?

  Wife. 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?

  Chief 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.

  Chief Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man,
    With instruments upon them fit to open
    These dead men's tombs.

  Cap. O heavens! 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 missheathed in my daughter's bosom!

  Wife. 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.

  Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night!
    Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath.
    What further woe conspires against mine age?

  Prince. Look, and thou shalt see.

  Mon. 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 murther;
    And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
    Myself condemned and myself excus'd.

  Prince. Then say it once what thou dost know in this.

  Friar. I will be brief, for my short date of breath
    Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
    Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;
    And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife.
    I married them; and their stol'n marriage day
    Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death
    Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city;
    For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd.
    You, to remove that siege of grief from her,
    Betroth'd and would have married her perforce
    To County Paris. Then comes she to me
    And with wild looks bid me devise some mean
    To rid her from this second marriage,
    Or in my cell there would she kill herself.
    Then gave I her (so tutored by my art)
    A sleeping potion; which so took effect
    As I intended, for it wrought on her
    The form of death. Meantime 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 should cease.
    But he which bore my letter, Friar John,
    Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight
    Return'd my letter back. Then all alone
    At the prefixed hour of her waking
    Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;
    Meaning to keep her closely at my cell
    Till I conveniently could send to Romeo.
    But when I came, some minute ere the time
    Of her awaking, here untimely lay
    The noble Paris and true Romeo dead.
    She wakes; and I entreated her come forth
    And bear this work of heaven with patience;
    But then a noise did scare me from the tomb,
    And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
    But, as it seems, did violence on herself.
    All this I know, and to the marriage
    Her nurse is privy; and if aught in this
    Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
    Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time,
    Unto the rigour of severest law.

  Prince. We still have known thee for a holy man.
    Where's Romeo's man? What can he say in this?

  Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death;
    And then in post he came from Mantua
    To this same place, to this same monument.
    This letter he early bid me give his father,
    And threat'ned me with death, going in 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 master in this place?

  Boy. He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave;
    And bid me stand aloof, and so I did.
    Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb;
    And by-and-by my master drew on him;
    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 lie with Juliet.
    Where be these enemies? Capulet, Montage,
    See what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
    That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!
    And I, for winking at you, discords too,
    Have lost a brace of kinsmen. 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 whiles Verona by that name is known,
    There shall no figure at such rate be set
    As that of true and faithful Juliet.

  Cap. As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie-
    Poor sacrifices of our enmity!

  Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it brings.
    The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
    Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
    Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished;
    For never was a story of more woe
    Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
                                                   Exeunt omnes.


THE END

 In the churchyard that night, Paris enters with a torch-bearing servant. He orders the page to withdraw, then begins scattering flowers on Juliet's grave. He hears a whistle--the servant's warning that someone is approaching. He withdraws into the darkness. Romeo, carrying a crowbar, enters with Balthasar. He tells Balthasar that he has come to open the Capulet tomb in order to take back a valuable ring he had given to Juliet. Then he orders Balthasar to leave, and, in the morning, to deliver to Montague the letter Romeo had given him. Balthasar withdraws, but, mistrusting his master's intentions, lingers to watch. From his hiding place, Paris recognizes Romeo as the man who murdered Tybalt, and thus as the man who indirectly murdered Juliet, since it is her grief for her cousin that is supposed to have killed her. As Romeo has been exiled from the city on penalty of death, Paris thinks that Romeo must hate the Capulets so much that he has returned to the tomb to do some dishonor to the corpse of either Tybalt or Juliet. In a rage, Paris accosts Romeo. Romeo pleads with him to leave, but Paris refuses. They draw their swords and fight. Paris's page runs off to get the civil watch. Romeo kills Paris. As he dies, Paris asks to be laid near Juliet in the tomb, and Romeo consents. Romeo descends into the tomb carrying Paris's body. He finds Juliet lying peacefully, and wonders how she can still look so beautiful--as if she were not dead at all. Romeo speaks to Juliet of his intention to spend eternity with her, describing himself as shaking "the yoke of inauspicious stars / From this world-wearied flesh" . He kisses Juliet, drinks the poison, kisses Juliet again, and dies. Just then, Friar Lawrence enters the churchyard. He encounters Balthasar, who tells him that Romeo is in the tomb. Balthasar says that he fell asleep and dreamed that Romeo fought with and killed someone. Troubled, the friar enters the tomb, where he finds Paris's body and then Romeo's. As the friar takes in the bloody scene, Juliet wakes. Juliet asks the friar where her husband is. Hearing a noise that he believes is the coming of the watch, the friar quickly replies that both Romeo and Paris are dead, and that she must leave with him. Juliet refuses to leave, and the friar, fearful that the watch is imminent, exits without her. Juliet sees Romeo dead beside her, and surmises from the empty vial that he has drunk poison. Hoping she might die by the same poison, Juliet kisses his lips, but to no avail. Hearing the approaching watch, Juliet unsheathes Romeo's dagger and, saying, "O happy dagger, / This is thy sheath," stabs herself . She dies upon Romeo's body. Chaos reigns in the churchyard, where Paris's page has brought the watch. The watchmen discover bloodstains near the tomb; they hold Balthasar and Friar Lawrence, who they discovered loitering nearby. The Prince and the Capulets enter. Romeo, Juliet, and Paris are discovered in the tomb. Montague arrives, declaring that Lady Montague has died of grief for Romeo's exile. The Prince shows Montague his son's body. Upon the Prince's request, Friar Lawrence succinctly tells the story of Romeo and Juliet's secret marriage and its consequences. Balthasar gives the Prince the letter Romeo had previously written to his father. The Prince says that it confirms the friar's story. He scolds the Capulets and Montagues, calling the tragedy a consequence of their feud and reminding them that he himself has lost two close kinsmen: Mercutio and Paris. Capulet and Montague clasp hands and agree to put their vendetta behind them. Montague says that he will build a golden statue of Juliet, and Capulet insists that he will raise Romeo's likeness in gold beside hers. The Prince takes the group away to discuss these events, pronouncing that there has never been "a story of more woe / Than this of Juliet and her Romeo" .

