3.Wat. Here is a Frier that trembles, sighes, and weepes We tooke this Mattocke and this Spade from him, As he was comming from this Church-yard side
Con. A great suspition, stay the Frier too.
Enter the Prince.
Prin. What misaduenture is so earely vp,
That calls our person from our mornings rest?
Enter Capulet and his Wife.
Cap. What should it be that they so shrike abroad?
Wife. O the people in the streete crie Romeo.
Some Iuliet, and some Paris, and all runne
With open outcry toward our Monument
Pri. What feare is this which startles in your eares?
Wat. Soueraigne, here lies the Countie Paris slaine,
And Romeo dead, and Iuliet dead before,
Warme and new kil'd
Prin. Search,
Seeke, and know how, this foule murder comes
Wat. Here is a Frier, and Slaughter'd Romeos man,
With Instruments vpon them fit to open
These dead mens Tombes
Cap. O heauen!
O wife looke how our Daughter bleedes!
This Dagger hath mistaine, for loe his house
Is empty on the backe of Mountague,
And is misheathed in my Daughters bosome
Wife. O me, this sight of death, is as a Bell
That warnes my old age to a Sepulcher.
Enter Mountague.
Pri. Come Mountague, for thou art early vp
To see thy Sonne and Heire, now early downe