Page 3256 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

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.

CAPULET

O brother Montague, give me thy hand. [295]
This is my daughter’s jointure, for no more
Can I demand.

MONT AGUE

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 [300]
As that of true and faithful Juliet.

CAPULET

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

PRINCE

A glooming peace this morning with it brings:
The sun for sorrow will not show his head. [305]
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.

Exeunt.