« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
To cross my obsequies, and true-love's rites ?
Enter Romeo and BALTH AsAR with a Torch, Mattock, &c.
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 hear'st 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 further 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. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout ; His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt, [Retires. Rom. Thou détestable maw, thou womb of death Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth, Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, [Breaking open the Door of the Monument. And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food Par. 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 villainous shame To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.— [Advances. 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. Rom. 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, Heap 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, begone;—live, and hereafter sayA madman's mercy bade thee run away. Par. I do defy thy conjurations,” And do attach thee as a felon here. Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee,
*i. e. Action of importance.
boy. [They fight. Page. O lord! they fight: I will go call the watch. [Erit Page. Par. O, I am slain! [Falls.]—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 Gounty 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 1 I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave, A grave O, no; a lantern,” slaughter'd 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 2—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?
3 I refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do, i. e. depart.
* The allusion is to a louvre or turret full of windows by means of which ancient halls, &c. are illuminated, 5 Presence chamber.
O, what more favour can I do to thee,
Enter at the other end of the Churchyard, Friar LAURENCE, with a Lantern, Crow, and Spade.
Fri. Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled at graves —Who's there? Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead? Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.
* Conductor. w
Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, What torch is yond', that vainly lends his light To grubs and eyeless sculls? as I discern, It burneth in the Capels' monument.
Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, One that you love.
Fr. Who is it?
Bal. Full half an hour.
My master knows not, but I am gone hence;