O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.
BALTHASAR.
As I did sleep under this yew tree here,
I dreamt my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him.
FRIAR LAWRENCE.
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?
[Enters the monument.]
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.
[Juliet wakes and stirs.]
JULIET. O comfortable Friar, where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be,