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 to the hollow ground; then no foot can step on the churchyard soil, which is loose and unsteady from the digging of graves, without your hearing it. Whistle to me then, 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 alone here in the churchyard; but 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 bridal bed. Oh, what misery, your canopy is dust and stones, which I will sprinkle nightly with sweet water, or, failing that, with tears drawn out by my groans. The funeral rites I will keep for you will be to scatter flowers on your grave each night 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 something is coming. What cursed foot is wandering this way tonight, to interrupt my funeral rites and a true lover'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, stay well back and don't interrupt what I'm doing. The reason I go down into this bed of death is partly to look at my lady's face, but chiefly to take from her dead finger a precious ring, a ring I must use for an important purpose. So get away from here, go. But if you come back out of suspicion, to spy on what more I mean to do, then by heaven I will tear you apart joint by joint and scatter this hungry churchyard with your limbs. The hour and my intentions are savage and wild, far fiercer and far more 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 way you show me friendship. Take this. Live and prosper, and goodbye, good fellow.

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

In spite of all that, I'll hide myself somewhere near here. I'm afraid of the way he looks, and I'm suspicious of what he intends.

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 hateful 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 to spite you, 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's believed that the lovely girl died of grief for it — and now he has come here to do some vile outrage to 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, vile Montague. Can revenge be carried further than death? Condemned villain, I arrest you. Obey, 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; and that is why I came here. Good gentle young man, don't provoke a desperate man. Run away from here and leave me. Think about these dead; let them frighten you. I beg you, young man, don't load another sin onto my head by driving me into a rage. Oh, go away. By heaven, I love you better than I love myself, because I come here armed against myself. Don't stay, go, live, and afterwards say that a madman's mercy 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!

Will you provoke me? Then take this, boy!

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

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

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 with 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 County Paris! What did my servant say, when my tossing, troubled mind wasn't listening to him as we rode? I think he told me that Paris was to have married Juliet. Didn't he say that? Or did I dream it? Or am I mad, so that hearing him talk of Juliet made me imagine 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 triumphant grave. A grave? Oh no, a lantern, murdered young man, for Juliet lies here, and her beauty makes this vault a bright hall full of light, fit for a feast. 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 men have been cheerful when they were at the point of death! Their nurses call it the lightning flash before death. Oh, how can I call this a lightning flash? Oh my love, my wife, death, which 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, are 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 half, to cut down the man who was your enemy? Forgive me, cousin. Ah, dear Juliet, why are you still so beautiful? Am I to believe that bodiless death is in love, and that the lean, hated monster keeps you here in the dark to be his mistress? For fear of that I will stay with you always, and never leave this palace of dim night again. Here, here I will stay with the worms that are your chambermaids. Oh, here I will make my everlasting resting place, and shake the yoke of unlucky stars from 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 endless bargain with all-devouring death. Come, bitter escort, come, foul-tasting guide. You desperate pilot, now at once drive your seasick, weary ship onto the shattering 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 on 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, uselessly giving its light to maggots and eyeless skulls? As far as I can make out, it's burning in the Capels' monument.

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

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

Who is it?

Who is it?

Romeo.

Romeo.

How long hath he been there?

How long has he been in 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 don't dare, sir. My master thinks 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 coming over me. Oh, I'm very afraid that something bad and unlucky 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 sleeping under this yew tree here, I dreamt 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 goes forward.] Oh no, oh no, what blood is this staining the stone entrance of this tomb? What are these ownerless, bloody swords doing lying 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 event? The lady is stirring.

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 I am there. 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, disease, and unnatural sleep. A power greater than we can argue with has ruined our plans. Come, come away. Your husband lies there dead at your breast, and Paris too. Come, I'll place you with a community of holy nuns. Don't stay to ask questions, because the watch is coming. Come, 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 shut tight in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, has been his untimely end. Oh, you miser. You drank it all and left no friendly drop to help me follow you? I'll kiss your lips. Perhaps some poison is still clinging to them, to let me die by means of a healing 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.

What, a noise? Then I'll be quick about it. Oh, welcome dagger.

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

This is your sheath. [She stabs herself.] Rest 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 County killed, and Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, who has lain buried here these two days. Go and tell the Prince; run to the Capulets. Wake the Montagues, and some of 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 on which these sorrows lie, but the true ground, the 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 in custody 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 from this side of the churchyard.

A great suspicion. Stay the Friar too.

That's very suspicious. Detain the Friar too.

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

What disaster is up so early that it calls us from our morning's rest?

What should it be that they so shriek abroad?

What can it be that they're 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 monument.

What fear is this which startles in our ears?

What is this terror that startles 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 the County Paris killed, and Romeo dead, and Juliet, who was dead before, 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 dead 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, for look, its house is empty on Montague's back, and it is mis-sheathed 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, Montague, since you are up early, to see your son and heir laid down even earlier.

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 badly taught boy! What kind of manners 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 your outcry for a while, until we can clear up these confusions and learn their source, their beginning, their true line of descent. Then I will be the commander of your griefs and lead you even as far as death. In the meantime, hold back, and let misfortune be the slave of patience. Bring forward the people 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 one most guilty, though least able to have done it, yet I am most suspected of this dreadful murder, since the time and the place argue 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, because the short span of life left to me is not as long as a drawn-out story. Romeo, 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 Tybalt's day of doom, whose untimely death drove the newly made bridegroom out of this city. It was for him, and not for Tybalt, that Juliet wasted away. You, to lift that siege of grief from her, promised her in marriage and would have married her by force to County Paris. Then she came to me, and with wild looks told me to think up some way to free her from this second marriage, or she would kill herself there in my cell. So I gave her, instructed as I am by my skill, a sleeping potion, which took effect just 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 out of her borrowed grave, that being the time the potion's power would wear off. But the man who carried my letter, Friar John, was held back by accident, and last night he brought my letter back to me. Then, all alone, at the appointed hour of her waking, I came to take her out of her family's vault, meaning to keep her hidden in my cell until I could conveniently send word to Romeo. But when I came, a minute or so before the time of her waking, the noble Paris and true 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 seems, 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 time, to the harshness of the strictest 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 as a holy man. Where's Romeo's servant? What can he say to 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 news of Juliet's death, and then he came in haste from Mantua to this same place, to this same monument. He told me early on to give this letter to his father, and he threatened me with death as he went into the vault if I did not leave and let him stay there alone.

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 County'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 came with a light to open the tomb, and before long 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 ways to kill your joys with love! And I, for turning a blind eye to your quarrels, have lost a pair of relatives. Everyone is 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 figure shall 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 sacrifices to our hatred.

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 will not show his head for sorrow. Leave this place, so we can talk more about these sad things. Some will be pardoned, and some punished, for there was never a story of more sorrow than this one of Juliet and her Romeo.