Eyes, look your last! Soft!-she breathes, and stirs ! Jul. Where am I? Defend me, powers! Rom. She speaks, she lives, and we shall still be bless'd! My kind propitious stars o'erpay me now [Raises her. Jul. Bless me, how cold it is!-Who's there?Rom. Thy husband; 'Tis thy Romeo, Juliet, raised from despair My strength may fail me, but my will's unmoved; ; Rom. Romeo is thy husband; I am that Romeo ; • O my lord, my husband! Dost thou avoid me, Romeo? Let me touch Rom. O, I cannot; I have no strength; but want thy feeble aid.- Jul. Poison! What means my lord? Thy trembling Pale lips, and swimming eyes,-Death's in thy face. To hear thee speak, and see thy opening eyes, Fate brought me to this place, to take a last, I thought thee dead: distracted at the sight, Jul. And did I wake for this! Rom. My powers are blasted : 'Twixt death and love I'm torn, I am distracted: But death's strongest :-And must I leave thee, Juliet! O, cruel, cursed fate! in sight of heaven.- Rom. Fathers have flinty hearts, no tears can melt 'em : Nature pleads in vain :-Children must be wretched. Jul. O, my breaking heart! Rom. She is my wife,-our hearts are twined together, Capulet, forbear;-Paris, loose your hold;Pull not our heart-strings thus :—they crack,-they break, [Dies. O, Juliet! Juliet !— Jul. Stay, stay for me, Romeo; A moment stay; fate marries us in death, [Faints on Romeo's Body. Enter Friar LAURENGE, with a Lantern and an Iron Crow. Lau. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there? Alack, alack! what blood is this which stains The stony entrance of this sepulchre ? Jul. Who's there? Lau. Ha! Juliet awake! and Romeo dead ! Jul. Here he is still, and I will hold him fast; Lau. Patience, lady! vul. O, thou cursed friar! Patience! Talk'st thou of patience to a wretch like me? L22. O fatal error !-Rise, thou fair distress'd, And fly this scene of death. Jul. Come thou not near me; [Draws a dagger. Lau. I wonder not, thy griefs have made thee desp'rate. Voices without.] fy: [Voices without.] Which way? Which way? Lau. Stay not to question; for the watch is coming: Come; go, good Juliet. I dare not longer stay. (Exit Friar LAURENCE. Jul. Go, get thee hence; for I will not away.What's here? A phial!-Romeo's timeless end.O, churl! drink all; and leave no friendly drop To help me after?-I will kiss thy lips;Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them.[Voices without.] Lead, boy:-Which way? Then I'll be brief.-O, happy dagger!— [Stabs herself. This is thy sheath ;-there rest, and let me die. [Dies. Enter BALTHASAR and the Page guarded,-the Prince, and Attendants with Torches. Bal. This is the place, my liege. Enter CAPULET, and Gentlemen. Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad? The people in the street cry-Romeo ; Prince. What fear is this, which startles in your ears? Bal. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris slain ;My master Romeo dead;-and Juliet, Thought dead before, appears but newly kill'd. Cap. O me! this sight of death is as a bell, That warns my old age to a sepulchre. Enter MONTAGUE, and Gentlemen. Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early up, To see thy son and heir now early fallen. Mon. Ålas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night! The exile of my son hath stopp'd her breath :- Prince. Look there, and 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 and head: Meantime forbear, And let mischance be slave to patience. Bring forth the parties of suspicion. Enter Friar LAURENCE. Lau. I am the greatest. Prince. Then, say at once what thou dost know in this. Lau. Let us retire from this dread scene of death, And I'll unfold the whole : If aught in this Miscarried by my fault, let my old life Be sacrificed, some hour before its time, Unto the rigour of severest law. Prince. We still have known thee for a holy man.Let Romco's man, and let the boy attend us : We'll hence, and further scan these sad disasters Well may you mourn, my lords, now wise too late, These tragic issues of your mutual hate. From private feuds what dire misfortunes flow! Whate'er the cause, the sure effect is woe. [Exeunt. THE END. EDINBURGH : |