sell it him." These words of his now came into his mind, and he sought
out the apothecary, who after some pretended scruples, Romeo offering
him gold, which his poverty could not resist, sold him a poison, which,
if he swallowed, he told him, if he had the strength of twenty men,
would quickly despatch him.

With this poison he set out for Verona, to have a sight of his dear lady
in her tomb, meaning, when he had satisfied his sight, to swallow the
poison, and be buried by her side. He reached Verona at midnight, and
found the churchyard, in the midst of which was situated the ancient
tomb of the Capulets. He had provided a light, and a spade, and
wrenching iron, and was proceeding to break open the monument, when he
was interrupted by a voice, which by the name of _vile Montague_, bade
him desist from his unlawful business. It was the young Count Paris, who
had come to the tomb of Juliet at that unseasonable time of night, to
strew flowers and to weep over the grave of her that should have been
his bride. He knew not what an interest Romeo had in the dead, but
knowing him to be a Montague, and (as he supposed) a sworn foe to all
the Capulets, he judged that he was come by night to do some villanous
shame to the dead bodies; therefore in an angry tone he bade him desist;
and as a criminal, condemned by the laws of Verona to die if he were
found within the walls of the city, he would have apprehended him. Romeo
urged Paris to leave him, and warned him by the fate of Tybalt, who lay
buried there, not to provoke his anger, or draw down another sin upon
his head, by forcing him to kill him. But the count in scorn refused his
warning, and laid hands on him as a felon, which Romeo resisting, they
fought, and Paris fell. When Romeo, by the help of a light, came to see
who it was that he had slain, that it was Paris, who (he learned in his
way from Mantua) should have married Juliet, he took the dead youth by
the hand, as one whom misfortune had made a companion, and said that he
would bury him in a triumphal grave, meaning in Juliet's grave, which he
now opened: and there lay his lady, as one whom death had no power upon
to change a feature or complexion, in her matchless beauty; or as if
Death were amorous, and the lean abhorred monster kept her there for his
delight; for she lay yet fresh and blooming, as she had fallen to sleep
when she swallowed that benumbing potion; and near her lay Tybalt in his
bloody shroud, whom Rom