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O true apothecary!Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.
Romeo!Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stainsThe stony entrance of this sepulchre?What mean these masterless and gory swordsTo lie discolour'd by this place of peace?Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too?And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hourIs guilty of this lamentable chance!The lady stirs.
O comfortable friar! where is my lord?I do remember well where I should be,And there I am. Where is my Romeo?
I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nestOf death, contagion, and unnatural sleep:A greater power than we can contradictHath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of theeAmong a sisterhood of holy nuns:Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;Come, go, good Juliet,I dare no longer stay
Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly dropTo help me after? I will kiss thy lips;Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,To make die with a restorative.Thy lips are warm.
Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!This is thy sheath;there rust, and let me die.

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