• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

The breathless corpse of Romeus, forsaken of the mind:

Where they have made such moan, as they may best conceive,

That have with perfect friendship loved, whose friend fierce death did reave.

But whilst with piteous plaint they Romeus' fate beweep,

An hour too late fair Juliet awakéd out of sleep;

And much amazed to see in tomb so great a light,

She wist not if she saw a dream, or sprite that walked by night.

But coming to herself she knew them, and said thus:

"What, friar Laurence, is it you? Where is my Romeus?"

And then the ancient friar, that greatly stood in fear,

Lest, if they lingered over long they should be taken there,

In few plain words the whole that was betid, he told,

And with his finger showed his corpse out-stretchéd, stiff, and cold;

And then persuaded her with patience to abide

This sudden great mischance, and saith, that he will soon provide

In some religious house for her a quiet place,

Where she may spend the rest of life, and where in time, percase,

She may with wisdom's mean measure her mourning breast,

And unto her tormented soul call back exiléd rest.

But lo, as soon as she had cast her ruthful eye

On Romeus' face, that pale and wan fast by her side did lie,

Straightway she did unstop the conduits of her tears,

And out they gush; -- with cruel hand she tare her golden hairs.

But when she neither could her swelling sorrow 'suage

Ne yet her tender heart abide her sickness' furious rage,

Fall'n on his corpse she lay, long panting on his face,

And then with all her force and strength the dead corpse did embrace.

As though with sighs, with sobs, with force, and busy pain

She would him raise, and him restore from death to life again:

A thousand times she kissed his mouth, as cold as stone,

And it unkissed again as oft; then 'gan she thus to moan:

"Ah, pleasant prop of all my thoughts, ah, only ground

Of all the sweet delights that yet in all my life I found,

Did such assuréd trust within thy heart repose,

That in this place and at this time, thy churchyard thou hast chose

Betwixt the arms of me, thy perfect-loving make

And thus by means of me to end thy life, and for my sake ?

Even in the flow'ring of thy youth, when unto thee

Thy life most dear, as to the most, and pleasant ought to be,

How could this tender corpse withstand the cruel fight

Of furious Death, that wonts to fray the stoutest with his sight?

How could thy dainty youth agree with willing heart,

In this so foul-infected place to dwell, where now thou art?

Where spiteful Fortune hath appointed thee to be

The dainty food of greedy worms, unworthy, sure, of thee.

Alas, alas, alas, what needed now anew

My wonted sorrows, doubled twice, again thus to renew?

Which both the time and eke my patient long abode

Should now at length have quenchéd quite, and under foot have trode?

Ah, wretch and caitive that I am, even when I thought

To find my painful passion's salve, I missed the thing I sought;

And to my mortal harm the fatal knife I ground,

That gave to me so deep, so wide, so cruel deadly wound!

Ah thou, most fortunate and most unhappy tomb!

For thou shalt bear, from age to age, witness in time to come

Of the most perfect league betwixt a pair of lovers,

That were the most unfortunate and fortunate of others,

Receive the latter sigh, receive the latter pang,

Of the most cruel of cruel slaves that wrath and death aye wrang."

And when our Juliet would continue still her moan,

The friar and the servant fled, and left her there alone;

For they a sudden noise fast by the place did hear,

And lest they might be taken there, greatly they stood in fear.

When Juliet saw herself left in the vault alone,

That freely she might work her will, for let or stay was none,

Then once for all she took the cause of all her harms,

The body dead of Romeus, and clasped it in her arms;

Then she with earnest kiss sufficiently did prove,

That more than by the fear of death, she was attaint by love;

And then past deadly fear, for life ne had she care,

With hasty