, and one that knows you well. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern, It burneth in the Capel's monument. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, One that you love. Who is it? Romeo. How long hath he been there? Full half an hour. Go with me to the vault. I dare not, sir My master knows not but I am gone hence; And fearfully did menace me with death, If I did stay to look on his intents. Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me: O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here, I dreamt my master and another fought, And that my master slew him. Romeo! Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains The stony entrance of this sepulchre? What mean these masterless and gory swords To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too? And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour Is guilty of this lamentable chance! The lady stirs. O comfortable friar! where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, And there I am. Where is my Romeo? I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep: A greater power than we can contradict Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee Among a sisterhood of holy nuns: Stay not to question, for the watch is coming; Come, go, good Juliet, I dare no longer stay. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop To help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, To make die with a restorative. Thy lips are warm. Lead, boy: which way? Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die. This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn. The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard: Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach. Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain, And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, Who here