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. —
Stop thy unhallow'd 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.
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 bid thee run away.
I do defy thy conjurations,
And apprehend thee for a felon here.
Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!
O lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.
O, I am slain! [Falls.] If thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
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.
[Laying Paris in the monument.]
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 sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love! [Drinks.] — O true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. — Thus with a kiss I die.
[Enter, at the other end of the Churchyard, Friar Lawrence, with
a lantern, crow, and spade.]
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