Was stay’d by accident; and yesternight
Return’d my letter back. Then all alone
At the prefixed hour of her waking
Came I to take her from her kindred’s vault;
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:
But when I came,—some minute ere the time
Of her awaking,—here untimely lay
The noble Paris and true Romeo dead.
She wakes; and I entreated her come forth
And bear this work of heaven with patience:
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
But, as it seems, did violence on herself.
All this I know; and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy: and if ought in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrific’d, some hour before his time,
Unto the rigour of severest law.
Prince.
We still have known thee for a holy man.—
Where’s Romeo’s man? what can he say in this?
Balthasar.
I brought my master news of Juliet’s death;
And then in post he came from Mantua
To this same place, to this same monument.
This letter he early bid me give his father;
And threaten’d me with death, going in the vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.
Prince.
Give me the letter,—I will look on it.—
Where is the county’s page that rais’d the watch?—
Sirrah, what made your master in this place?
Boy.
He came with flowers to strew his lady’s grave;
And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:
Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb;
And by-and-by my master drew on him;
And then I ran away to call the watch.
Prince.
This letter doth make good the friar’s words,
Their course of love, the tidings of her death:
And here he writes that he did buy a poison
Of a poor ‘pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.—
Where be these enemies?—Capulet,—Montague,—
See what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!
And I, for winking at your discords too,
Have lost a brace of kinsmen:—all are punish’d.
Capulet.
O brother Montague, give me thy hand:
This is my daughter’s jointure, for no more
Can I demand.
Montague.
But I can give thee more:
For I will raise her statue in pure gold;
That while Verona by that name is known,
There shall no figure at such rate be set
As that of true and faithful Juliet.
Capulet.
As rich shall Romeo’s by his lady’s lie;
Poor sacrifices of our enmity!
Prince.
A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished;
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
[Exeunt.]
THE END
CORIOLANUS
by William Shakespeare
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS, a noble Roman
TITUS LARTIUS, General against the Volscians
COMINIUS, General against the Volscians
MENENIUS AGRIPPA, Friend to Coriolanus
SICINIUS VELUTUS, Tribune of the People
JUNIUS BRUTUS, Tribune of the People
YOUNG MARCIUS, son to Coriolanus
A ROMAN HERALD
TULLUS AUFIDIUS, General of the Volscians
LIEUTENANT, to Aufidius
Conspirators with Aufidius
A CITIZEN of Antium
TWO VOLSCIAN GUARDS
VOLUMNIA, Mother to Coriolanus
VIRGILIA, Wife to Coriolanus
VALERIA, Friend to Virgilia
GENTLEWOMAN attending on Virgilia
Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians, Aediles, Lictors,
Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers, Servants to Aufidius, and other
Attendants
SCENE: Partly in Rome, and partly in the territories of the Volscians and Antiates.
ACT I.
SCENE I. Rome. A street.
[Enter a company of mutinous citizens, with staves, clubs, and other weapons.]
FIRST CITIZEN.
Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.
ALL.
Speak, speak.
FIRST CITIZEN.
You are all resolved rather to die than to famish?
ALL.
Resolved, resolved.
FIRST CITIZEN.
First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people.
ALL.
We know’t, we know’t.
FIRST CITIZEN. Let us kill him, and we’ll have corn at our own price. Is’t a verdict?
ALL.
No more talking on’t; let it be done: away, away!
SECOND CITIZEN.
One word, good citizens.
FIRST CITIZEN. We are accounted poor citizens; the patricians good. What authority surfeits on would relieve us; if they would yield us but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; but they think we are too dear: the leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them.—Let us revenge this with our pikes ere we become rakes: for the gods know