Page 69
Pitiful sight! Here lies the County slain,
And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead,
Who here hath lain this two days buried.
Go tell the Prince; run to the Capulets.
Raise up the Montagues, some others search.
(Exeunt others of the Watch.)
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie,
But the true ground of all these piteous woes
We cannot without circumstance descry.
Re-enter some of the Watch with Balthasar.
Second Watch:
Here’s Romeo’s man. We found him in the churchyard.
First Watch:
Hold him in safety till the Prince come hither.
Re-enter others of the Watch with Friar Lawrence.
Third Watch:
Here is a Friar that trembles, sighs, and weeps.
We took this mattock and this spade from him
As he was coming from this churchyard side.
First Watch:
A great suspicion. Stay the Friar too.
Enter the Prince and Attendants.
Prince:
What misadventure is so early up,
That calls our person from our morning’s rest?
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet and others.
Capulet:
What should it be that they so shriek abroad?
Lady Capulet:
O the people in the street cry Romeo,
Some Juliet, and some Paris, and all run
With open outcry toward our monument.
Prince:
What fear is this which startles in our ears?
First Watch:
Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain,
And Romeo dead, and Juliet, dead before,
Warm and new kill’d.
Prince:
Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.
First Watch:
Here is a Friar, and slaughter’d Romeo’s man,
With instruments upon them fit to open
These dead men’s tombs.
Capulet:
O heaven! 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.
Enter Montague and others.
Prince:
Come, Montague, for thou art early up,
To see thy son and heir more early down.
Montague:
Alas, my liege, my wife is dead tonight.
Grief of my son’s exile hath stopp’d her breath.
What further woe conspires against mine age?
Prince:
Look, and thou shalt see.
Montague:
O thou untaught! What manners is in this,
To press before thy father to a grave?