_Friar John._ Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [_Exit._
_Friar Laurence._ Now must I to the monument alone; Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake. She will beshrew me much that Romeo Hath had no notice of these accidents; But I will write again to Mantua, And keep her at my cell till Romeo come. Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! [_Exit._
SCENE III. _A Churchyard; in it a Tomb belonging to the Capulets_
_Enter_ PARIS, _and his_ Page _bearing flowers and a torch_
_Paris._ Give me thy torch, boy; hence, and stand aloof; Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along, Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, But thou shalt hear it; whistle then to me As signal that thou hear'st something approach. Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
_Page._ [_Aside_] I am almost afraid to stand alone 10 Here in the churchyard, yet I will adventure. [_Retires._
_Paris._ Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew. O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones, Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans; The obsequies that I for thee will keep Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.-- [_The Page whistles._
The boy gives warning something doth approach. What cursed foot wanders this way to-night, To cross my obsequies and true love's rite? 20 What, with a torch!--muffle me, night, awhile. [_Retires._
_Enter_ ROMEO _and_ BALTHASAR, _with a torch, mattock, etc_.
_Romeo._ Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron. Hold, take this letter; early in the morning See thou deliver it to my lord and father. Give me the light. Upon thy life, I charge thee, Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death Is partly to behold my lady's face, But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger 30 A precious ring, a ring that I must use In dear employment. Therefore hence, be gone; But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I further shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs. The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.