Romeo and Juliet, Act 5, Scene 3

Give me thy torch, boy. Hence and stand aloof. Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. Under yond yew tree lay thee all along, Holding thy 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.

Give me your torch, boy. Go away and keep your distance. No—put it out, because I don't want to be seen. Lie down full length under that yew tree over there, with your ear pressed against the hollow ground. That way no foot can step anywhere in the churchyard—the soil is loose and unsteady from the digging of graves—without your hearing it. Then whistle to me as a signal that you hear something coming. Give me those flowers. Do as I tell you. Go.

[Aside.] I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.

[Aside.] I'm almost afraid to stand here alone in the churchyard; still, I'll risk it.

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.

Sweet flower, I scatter flowers on your wedding bed. What sorrow—your canopy is dust and stone, which I will sprinkle nightly with perfumed water, or, lacking that, with tears wrung out by my groans. The funeral rites I will keep for you will be, every night, to scatter flowers on your grave and weep.

The boy gives warning something doth approach. What cursed foot wanders this way tonight, To cross my obsequies and true love’s rite? What, with a torch! Muffle me, night, awhile.

The boy is warning me that someone is coming. What cursed foot is wandering this way tonight, to interrupt my mourning and my true love's ceremony? What, carrying a torch! Night, hide me for a while.

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 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.

Give me that pickaxe and the crowbar. Wait—take this letter; make sure you deliver it early in the morning to my lord and father. Give me the light. On your life I order you: whatever you hear or see, keep well away and do not interrupt what I am doing. The reason I am going down into this bed of death is partly to look at my lady's face, but mainly to take from her dead finger a precious ring, a ring I must put to an important use. So off with you, go. But if you come back out of suspicion to spy on whatever else I mean to do, by heaven I will tear you apart joint by joint and scatter this starving churchyard with your limbs. My mood and my intentions are as wild as a savage beast's—far more fierce and unrelenting than starving tigers or the roaring sea.

I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

I'll go, sir, and not trouble you.

So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that. Live, and be prosperous, and farewell, good fellow.

That's how you'll prove your friendship to me. Take this. Live, and prosper, and goodbye, my good fellow.

For all this same, I’ll hide me hereabout. His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.

All the same, I'll hide somewhere nearby. I don't like the look on his face, and I'm afraid of what he means to do.

Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, Gorg’d with the dearest morsel of the earth, Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,

You disgusting stomach, you womb of death, stuffed with the most precious morsel on earth, like this I force your rotten jaws open,

And in despite, I’ll cram thee with more food.

and out of spite I'll stuff you with more food.

This is that banish’d haughty Montague That murder’d my love’s cousin,—with which grief, It is supposed, the fair creature died,— And here is come to do some villainous shame To the dead bodies. I will apprehend him.

This is that banished, arrogant Montague who murdered my love's cousin—and it is thought that she, lovely creature, died of that grief—and he has come here to commit some vile outrage on the dead bodies. I'll arrest him.

Stop thy unhallow’d toil, vile Montague. Can vengeance be pursu’d further than death? Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee. Obey, and go with me, for thou must die.

Stop your unholy work, wicked Montague. Can revenge be carried on past death itself? Condemned criminal, I arrest you. Submit, and come with me, because you must die.

I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man. Fly hence and leave me. Think upon these gone; Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, Put not another sin upon my head By urging me to fury. O be gone. By heaven I love thee better than myself; For I come hither arm’d against myself. Stay not, be gone, live, and hereafter say, A madman’s mercy bid thee run away.

I must indeed; that is why I came here. Good gentle young man, don't provoke a desperate man. Run away and leave me. Think about these dead ones here; let them terrify you. I beg you, young man, don't load another sin onto me by driving me to rage. Oh, go away. By heaven, I love you better than I love myself, since I've come here armed against myself. Don't stay—go, live—and afterwards say that a madman's pity told you to run away.

I do defy thy conjuration, And apprehend thee for a felon here.

I reject your pleading, and I arrest you here as a criminal.

Wilt thou provoke me? Then have at thee, boy!

Are you determined to provoke me? Then take that, boy!

O lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.

Oh lord, they're fighting! I'll go and call the watchmen.

O, I am slain! [Falls.] If thou be merciful, Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

Oh, I'm killed! [He falls.] If you have any mercy, open the tomb and lay me beside Juliet.

In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face. Mercutio’s kinsman, noble County Paris! What said my man, when my betossed soul Did not attend him as we rode? I think He told me Paris should have married Juliet. Said he not so? Or did I dream it so? Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, One writ with me in sour misfortune’s book. I’ll bury thee in a triumphant grave. A grave? O no, a lantern, slaught’red youth, For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes This vault a feasting presence full of light. Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr’d.

I will, truly. Let me look closely at this face. Mercutio's relative, the noble Count Paris! What did my servant say, when my tossing, troubled mind wasn't listening to him as we rode? I think he told me Paris was to have married Juliet. Didn't he say that? Or did I dream it? Or am I mad, and, hearing him talk of Juliet, imagined it? Oh, give me your hand, you who are written down with me in the book of bitter misfortune. I'll bury you in a glorious grave. A grave? No, a lantern, murdered young man, because Juliet lies here, and her beauty turns this vault into a bright hall of celebration. Death, lie there, buried by a dead man.

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 chambermaids. 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.

How often, when men are at the point of death, have they been cheerful! Their attendants call it a flash of lightning before death. Oh, how can I call this a flash of lightning? Oh my love, my wife, death that has sucked the honey of your breath has had no power yet over your beauty. You are not conquered. Beauty's banner is still crimson in your lips and in your cheeks, and death's pale flag has not been raised there. Tybalt, is that you lying there in your bloody shroud? Oh, what greater kindness can I do you than, with the same hand that cut your youth in two, to destroy the life of the man who was your enemy? Forgive me, cousin. Ah, dear Juliet, why are you still so beautiful? Am I to believe that death, without body, is in love, and that the thin, hated monster keeps you here in the dark to be his mistress? For fear of that I'll stay with you always, and never leave this palace of dim night again. Here, here I'll stay, with the worms that are your maids. Oh, here I'll make my eternal resting place, and shake the yoke of unlucky stars off this world-weary flesh. Eyes, take your last look. Arms, take your last embrace! And lips, you doors of breath, seal with a lawful kiss an unending contract with death, who takes everything for himself. Come, bitter escort, come, sickening guide. You reckless pilot, now drive your seasick, worn-out ship straight onto the rocks. Here's to my love! [He drinks.] Oh, honest apothecary! Your drugs work fast. So, with a kiss, I die.

Saint Francis be my speed. How oft tonight Have my old feet stumbled at graves? Who’s there? Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead?

May Saint Francis help me along. How many times tonight have my old feet stumbled over graves? Who's there? Who is it that keeps company with the dead so late?

Here’s one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

Here's someone—a friend, and one who knows you well.

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 Capels’ monument.

Blessings on you. Tell me, my good friend, what torch is that over there, wasting its light on maggots and eyeless skulls? As far as I can make out, it's burning in the Capulets' tomb.

It doth so, holy sir, and there’s my master, One that you love.

It is, holy sir, and my master is there—someone you love.

Who is it?

Who is it?

Romeo.

Romeo.

How long hath he been there?

How long has he been there?

Full half an hour.

A full half hour.

Go with me to the vault.

Come with me to the vault.

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.

I dare not, sir. My master believes I've gone away from here, and he threatened me frighteningly with death if I stayed to watch what he meant to do.

Stay then, I’ll go alone. Fear comes upon me. O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.

Stay here then; I'll go alone. Fear is creeping over me. Oh, I'm badly afraid something terrible has happened.

As I did sleep under this yew tree here, I dreamt my master and another fought, And that my master slew him.

While I was asleep under this yew tree here, I dreamed that my master fought with another man, and that my master killed him.

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?

Romeo! [He steps forward.] Oh no, oh no—what blood is this, staining the stone entrance to this tomb? What are these abandoned, bloody swords doing lying here stained beside this place of peace?

Romeo! O, pale! Who else? What, Paris too? And steep’d in blood? Ah what an unkind hour Is guilty of this lamentable chance? The lady stirs.

Romeo! Oh, how pale! Who else? What, Paris too? And soaked in blood? Ah, what a cruel hour is to blame for this pitiful accident? The lady is moving.

O comfortable Friar, where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, And there I am. Where is my Romeo?

Oh comforting Friar, where is my husband? I remember perfectly well where I was supposed to be, and here I am. Where is my Romeo?

I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep. A greater power than we can contradict Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; And Paris too. Come, I’ll dispose of thee Among a sisterhood of holy nuns. Stay not to question, for the watch is coming. Come, go, good Juliet. I dare no longer stay.

I hear a noise. Lady, come away from that nest of death, infection, and unnatural sleep. A power greater than any we can oppose has ruined our plans. Come, come away. Your husband lies dead there against your breast, and Paris too. Come, I'll place you with a community of holy nuns. Don't stay to ask questions, because the watchmen are coming. Come, let's go, good Juliet. I dare not stay any longer.

Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.

Go, get away from here, because I won't leave.

What’s here? A cup clos’d in my true love’s hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. O churl. Drink all, and left no friendly drop To help me after? I will kiss thy lips. Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, To make me die with a restorative.

What's this? A cup gripped in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, has been his untimely end. Oh, how mean of you. You drank it all, and left no kind drop to help me follow you? I'll kiss your lips. Perhaps some poison is still clinging to them, so I can die by a medicine.

Thy lips are warm!

Your lips are warm!

[Within.] Lead, boy. Which way?

[Offstage.] Lead the way, boy. Which way is it?

Yea, noise? Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger.

So, a noise? Then I'll be quick. Oh, welcome dagger.

This is thy sheath. [stabs herself] There rest, and let me die.

This is your sheath. [She stabs herself.] Rest in there, and let me die.

This is the place. There, where the torch doth burn.

This is the place. There, where the torch is burning.

The ground is bloody. Search about the churchyard. Go, some of you, whoe’er you find attach.

The ground is bloody. Search all around the churchyard. Some of you go, and arrest whoever you find.

Pitiful sight! Here lies the County slain, And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, Who here hath lain this two days buried. Go tell the Prince; run to the Capulets. Raise up the Montagues, some others search.

A pitiful sight! Here lies the Count, killed, and Juliet bleeding, still warm, and only just dead—she who has lain buried here these two days. Go and tell the Prince; run to the Capulets. Get the Montagues up; the rest of you, search.

We see the ground whereon these woes do lie, But the true ground of all these piteous woes We cannot without circumstance descry.

We can see the ground these sorrows lie on, but the real cause of all these pitiful sorrows we cannot make out without the details.

Here’s Romeo’s man. We found him in the churchyard.

Here's Romeo's servant. We found him in the churchyard.

Hold him in safety till the Prince come hither.

Keep him under guard until the Prince gets here.

THIRD WATCH. Here is a Friar that trembles, sighs, and weeps. We took this mattock and this spade from him As he was coming from this churchyard side.

THIRD WATCH. Here is a Friar who is trembling, sighing, and weeping. We took this pickaxe and this spade from him as he was coming away from this side of the churchyard.

A great suspicion. Stay the Friar too.

Very suspicious. Detain the Friar too.

What misadventure is so early up, That calls our person from our morning’s rest?

What disaster is astir so early, calling us from our morning's rest?

What should it be that they so shriek abroad?

What can it be that people are shrieking about out there?

O the people in the street cry Romeo, Some Juliet, and some Paris, and all run With open outcry toward our monument.

Oh, the people in the street are shouting "Romeo," some "Juliet," and some "Paris," and they're all running with loud cries towards our tomb.

What fear is this which startles in our ears?

What is this terror that shrieks in our ears?

Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain, And Romeo dead, and Juliet, dead before, Warm and new kill’d.

Your Highness, here lies Count Paris, killed, and Romeo dead, and Juliet, who was dead before, still warm and freshly killed.

Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.

Search, investigate, and find out how this foul murder came about.

Here is a Friar, and slaughter’d Romeo’s man, With instruments upon them fit to open These dead men’s tombs.

Here is a Friar, and murdered Romeo's servant, carrying tools suitable for opening these dead men's tombs.

O heaven! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds! This dagger hath mista’en, for lo, his house Is empty on the back of Montague, And it mis-sheathed in my daughter’s bosom.

Oh heaven! Oh wife, look how our daughter is bleeding! This dagger has gone astray—look, its home is empty there on Montague's back, and it has been sheathed by mistake in my daughter's breast.

O me! This sight of death is as a bell That warns my old age to a sepulchre.

Oh, poor me! This sight of death is like a bell summoning my old age to the grave.

Come, Montague, for thou art early up, To see thy son and heir more early down.

Come here, Montague. You are up early, only to see your son and heir laid down earlier still.

Alas, my liege, my wife is dead tonight. Grief of my son’s exile hath stopp’d her breath. What further woe conspires against mine age?

Alas, my lord, my wife died tonight. Grief at my son's exile stopped her breath. What further sorrow is plotting against my old age?

Look, and thou shalt see.

Look, and you will see.

O thou untaught! What manners is in this, To press before thy father to a grave?

Oh, you ill-mannered boy! What kind of behaviour is this, to push ahead of your father into a grave?

Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, Till we can clear these ambiguities, And know their spring, their head, their true descent, And then will I be general of your woes, And lead you even to death. Meantime forbear, And let mischance be slave to patience. Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

Shut the mouth of loud grief for a while, until we can clear up these confusions and learn their source, their origin, their true line of descent. Then I will be the commander of your sorrows and lead you all the way to death. In the meantime, hold back, and let misfortune be the servant of patience. Bring out those under suspicion.

I am the greatest, able to do least, Yet most suspected, as the time and place Doth make against me, of this direful murder. And here I stand, both to impeach and purge Myself condemned and myself excus’d.

I am the chief suspect, though the least able to have done it, and yet the most suspected of this dreadful murder, since the time and place speak against me. And here I stand, both to accuse and to clear myself, condemned by myself and excused by myself.

Then say at once what thou dost know in this.

Then say at once what you know about this.

I will be brief, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale. Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet, And she, there dead, that Romeo’s faithful wife. I married them; and their stol’n marriage day Was Tybalt’s doomsday, whose untimely death Banish’d the new-made bridegroom from this city; For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin’d. You, to remove that siege of grief from her, Betroth’d, and would have married her perforce To County Paris. Then comes she to me, And with wild looks, bid me devise some means To rid her from this second marriage, Or in my cell there would she kill herself. Then gave I her, so tutored by my art, A sleeping potion, which so took effect As I intended, for it wrought on her The form of death. Meantime I writ to Romeo That he should hither come as this dire night To help to take her from her borrow’d grave, Being the time the potion’s force should cease. But he which bore my letter, Friar John, 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.

I will be brief, for the short span of life left to me is not as long as a drawn-out story. Romeo, lying dead there, was husband to that Juliet, and she, dead there, was that Romeo's faithful wife. I married them, and their secret wedding day was the day Tybalt died, whose untimely death drove the newly made bridegroom out of this city. It was for him, not for Tybalt, that Juliet wasted away. You, to lift that weight of grief from her, promised her in marriage and would have forced her to marry Count Paris. Then she comes to me, and with a wild look in her eyes told me to find some way to free her from this second marriage, or else she would kill herself there in my cell. So I gave her, guided by my skill, a sleeping potion, which worked exactly as I intended, for it produced in her the appearance of death. Meanwhile I wrote to Romeo that he should come here on this terrible night to help take her from the grave she only borrowed, since that was the time the potion's power would wear off. But the man who carried my letter, Friar John, was held back by an accident, and last night returned my letter to me. So all alone, at the appointed hour of her waking, I came to take her from her family's vault, meaning to keep her hidden in my cell until I could conveniently send word to Romeo. But when I came, some minute before the time she was to wake, the noble Paris and faithful Romeo lay here dead before their time. She wakes, and I begged her to come out and bear this work of heaven patiently. But then a noise frightened me away from the tomb, and she, too desperate, would not come with me, but, as it appears, did violence to herself. All this I know, and the Nurse knows about the marriage too. And if anything in this went wrong through my fault, let my old life be sacrificed, an hour or so before its natural end, to the severity of the harshest law.

We still have known thee for a holy man. Where’s Romeo’s man? What can he say to this?

We have always known you to be a holy man. Where is Romeo's servant? What can he say about this?

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.

I brought my master the news of Juliet's death, and then he came in haste from Mantua to this very place, to this very monument. He told me early on to give this letter to his father, and as he went into the vault he threatened me with death if I did not go away and leave him there.

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?

Give me the letter, I will look at it. Where is the Count's Page who called out the watch? You there, what was your master doing in this place?

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.

He came with flowers to scatter on his lady's grave, and told me to stand back, and so I did. Soon someone comes with a light to open the tomb, and a moment later my master drew his sword on him, and then I ran away to call the watch.

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.

This letter confirms the Friar's words, the course of their love, the news of her death. And here he writes that he bought a poison from a poor apothecary, and with it came to this vault to die and lie beside Juliet. Where are these enemies? Capulet, Montague, see what a whip has been laid on your hatred, that heaven finds a way to kill your children with love! And I, for turning a blind eye to your quarrels as well, have lost a pair of relatives. We are all punished.

O brother Montague, give me thy hand. This is my daughter’s jointure, for no more Can I demand.

Oh brother Montague, give me your hand. This is my daughter's marriage settlement, for I can ask for no more than this.

But I can give thee more, For I will raise her statue in pure gold, That whiles Verona by that name is known, There shall no figure at such rate be set As that of true and faithful Juliet.

But I can give you more, for I will set up her statue in pure gold, so that as long as Verona is known by that name, no image will be valued so highly as that of true and faithful Juliet.

As rich shall Romeo’s by his lady’s lie, Poor sacrifices of our enmity.

Romeo's shall lie beside his lady's, just as rich — poor victims of our feud.

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.

This morning brings a gloomy peace with it. The sun, out of sorrow, will not show his face. Let us go from here, to talk more about these serious matters. Some will be pardoned, and some punished, for there was never a story of more grief than this of Juliet and her Romeo.