5

Friar Laurence

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

Juliet

What's here? A cup closed 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.

Capulet

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 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.

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.

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.

Prince

Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!
See what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love;
And I, for winking at your discords too,
Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punished.

Capulet

O brother Montague, give me thy hand.
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
Can I demand.

Capulet

O brother Montague, give me thy hand.
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
Can I demand.

Montague

                         But I can give thee more.
For I will ray her statue in pure gold;
That while Verona by that name is known,                   
There shall no figure at such rate be set
As that of true and faithful Juliet.

Capulet

O brother Montague, give me thy hand.
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
Can I demand.

Montague

                         But I can give thee more.
For I will ray her statue in pure gold;
That while Verona by that name is known,                   
There shall no figure at such rate be set
As that of true and faithful Juliet.
[A street in Mantua. Enter Romeo]

Romeo

If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne,
And all this day an unaccustomed spirit
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.

Romeo

News from Verona! How now, Balthasar!
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father well?
How doth my Juliet? That I ask again,
For nothing can be ill if she be well.

Balthasar

Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.
Her body sleeps in Capel's monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives.

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