Death lie thou there by a dead man interrd laying

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Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. Laying PARIS in the tomb 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? 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? O, what more favour can I do to thee, Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain To sunder his that was thine enemy? Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe That unsubstantial death is amorous, And that the lean abhorred monster keeps Thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; And never from this palace of dim night Depart again: here, here will I remain With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! Here's to my love! Drinks O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. Dies Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, FRIAR LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade FRIAR LAURENCE Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there? BALTHASAR Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well. FRIAR LAURENCE 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. BALTHASAR It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, One that you love. FRIAR LAURENCE Who is it? 65
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BALTHASAR Romeo. FRIAR LAURENCE How long hath he been there? BALTHASAR Full half an hour. FRIAR LAURENCE Go with me to the vault. BALTHASAR 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. FRIAR LAURENCE Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me: O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. BALTHASAR As I did sleep under this yew-tree here, I dreamt my master and another fought, And that my master slew him. FRIAR LAURENCE Romeo! Advances 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? Enters the tomb Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too? And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour Is guilty of this lamentable chance!
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