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 lye with Juliet.
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!
See, what a fcourge is laid upon your hate,
That heav'n finds means to kill your joys with love!
And I, for winking at your difcords too,
Have loft a brace of kinfmen: all are punish'd!
Cap. O brother Montague, give me thy hand,
This is my daughter's jointure; for no more
Can I demand.
Mon. But I can give thee more,
For I will raise her Statue in pure gold;
That, while Verona by that name is known,
There fhall no figure at that rate be set,
As that of true and faithful Juliet.
Cap. As rich fhall Romeo's by his lady lye;
Poor facrifices of our enmity!
Prince. A gloomy Peace this morning with it brings, The Sun for Sorrow will not fhew his head;
Go hence to have more talk of these fad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and fome punished.
For never was a ftory of more woe,
Than this of Juliet, and her Romeo.