PARIS: Anon, good page, I need you not inside—
repose or leave, my paramour awaits.
I abhor this infected, dry moon, but
my grievances do naught. Alas, weep naught,
and faith naught, and cens not, I wish myself
PAGE: As you wish, sire. I know better than to prate.
PARIS: Good ye den, the moon lights up thine gate.
[PARIS enters the tomb]
Juliet! Thy bed of rest beds my woe.
My orisions hath not ceasèd at all.
List a foolèd boy I believèd thine part—
believèd mine dreams were at best just that.
How I joyed! I thought thou here—
[FRIAR LAWRENCE interrupts]
FRIAR LAWRENCE: Halt! Thine sorrows may wake the sleeping kin.
I wishèd not to tell, but tell I must.
Your counterfeit bride’s death is not final:
Speaketh a man of herbs: temp is her death!
Put down thy heavy heart, she hath not left!
PARIS: Dost thou implore mine anger doff?
“Counterfeit bride”! Thou must be daff.
I weep and lament as a real groom would.
Sparing my sorrows is worse than deceit!
FRIAR LAWRENCE: Under God’s name and in his house I swear:
young Juliet still hath more years to spare.
Now leavest apace, lest ye art beshrewed.
PARIS: An thou speak no ill, and Juliet lives—
I standeth no matter the adventure.
Thou wilt not manage to move me perforce,
So I suggest thou’st not try. Hie, old man.
FRIAR LAWRENCE: By my troth, a beshrewance awakens.
[FRIAR LAWRENCE exits; ROMEO enters]
ROMEO: Thou wretchèd foe! Thou ghastly thing—
Oh, reason for my sweet lady’s demise!
Move or thou shalt face a similar fate!
PARIS: Fie, doth thou head not turn? Churl, speak civil!
All art dissembled, my Juliet lives.
ROMEO: Tyrant, thy words physic me not — ay me!
I know’st my Juliet lay dead in her tomb…
Aught that thou say shall’nt liven the room!
Draw thy rapier, or not, thou art dead already.
PARIS: Boy, thy rage in thine eyes is portentous.
[PARIS draws his sword and is killed by ROMEO]
ROMEO: Dearest Juliet, together once more.
But one in china and one in pale flesh.
Trusteth in mine heart, death hath not touched thee.
Faithful gall within my palm, dear Mary—
shall I toast or wait and see— dear Marry!
Mine impulse hath failed before. I still.
[JULIET wakes up]
JULIET: Dearest Romeo, thine voice do I hear?
Hath Friar Lawrence’s vial be happy?
Oh how I fearèd being mewed like this—!
But in thine arms is a melting bliss!
ROMEO: The County Paris spoketh in truths!
Beautiful Saint, let’s leave from this hollow!
JULIET: Lead the way in this perfect night,
and I will follow with mine legs of lead.
ROMEO: Fear not my maiden, I will carry thee.
Away to Mantua, and then the world!
Our deep rouge horizon is awaiting—
—my bride! Our love can never be fleeting!
JULIET: Hie hence, this crypt is filled with bones,
And henceforth no Capulet shall waketh.
[LORD CAPULET enters]
LORD CAPULET: By’r Lady! Art thou not banishèd?
And thou! Art thou not meant for the crypt?
Thy flesh is no longer white and glassy—
I demand to know how doth thou beguiled!
Lest I call the Watch on ye both!
ROMEO: Thine foolish rules do not apply,
for both the lady and the Montague!
Step aside or becometh a capsule…
and newly sheath mine dagger!
LORD CAPULET: Lewdly lewd! Thine nowl hast been broken—
Either way, thine journey ends!
Juliet! Haggardly beastie of mine own—
Dispersing thine family name!
And Montague, O doggish Romeo:
I truly list thou hadn’st spoken—
As henceforth thou doth make none amends.
Fear my mallet upon thy jaw! Ay me!
JULIET: Hie hence, Romeo! Take me away!
My Father’s cruelty shalt hath no effect.
I care not for looking cowish! Away!
[Three hours later; PRINCE and BALTHASAR enter]
BALTHASAR: Steady! What doth the mess falsing thither?
PRINCE: How vulgar! Chaudron strung all over yon.
BALTHASAR: Mine senses diffused, doth that mangled piece
Not seem to have a likeness of love’s own?
Romeo and Juliet must mirror
in those whose love bent the same dwindled way—
Drive! Move us closer to them, carrier.
PRINCE: Indigested mind! Can’st thou devise
Those rubyèd bodies art not mirrors!
Incarnardine! It is thy children slain.
Kamèd bones growing rust — and yet still warm!
Newly killed must be their bodies — oh, aye —
knap went both necks as seen by these wet wounds,
as seen by the tracks on both of the kids!
Why, some knave with his ass must have been sped,
Upon this dirt road, and hit them instead!
Afterward, the perp, having know’st dire—
of the consequence, hath summoned fire!
Knowledge that his impact would surely cause
their fateful death, and wish they not suffer,
In his fist and in his heart, he striketh…
as instructed by the mortal wounds in
and around the breast of these children.
BALTHASAR: Thou make a fair censure, but one amiss:
poor Juliet hath been slain not one day ago!
Doth thou contest a witchery take place?
PRINCE: Thou’st instance I hath no cote for, but this—
Romeo’s attempt at love doth missed.
And by the scribe of L.C imprinted by mallet,
Methinks this quell belong’st to Capulet.