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 borrow'd 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 awakening, 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 sacrificed, some hour before his time, Unto the rigor 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 threaten'd 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 raised the

watchSirrah, what made your master in this place? Page. 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 opè 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! 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 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, while 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 by his lady 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. [Ereunt.

END OF VOL. XIII.

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