iar had
been apprehended by some of the watch, coming from the churchyard,
trembling, sighing, and weeping, in a suspicious manner. A great
multitude being assembled at the Capulets' monument, the friar was
demanded by the prince to deliver what he knew of these strange and
disastrous accidents.

And there, in the presence of the old Lords Montague and Capulet, he
faithfully related the story of their children's fatal love, the part he
took in promoting their marriage, in the hope in that union to end the
long quarrels between their families: how Romeo, there dead, was husband
to Juliet; and Juliet, there dead, was Romeo's faithful wife; how before
he could find a fit opportunity to divulge their marriage, another match
was projected for Juliet, who, to avoid the crime of a second marriage,
swallowed the sleeping draught (as he advised), and all thought her
dead; how meantime he wrote to Romeo, to come and take her thence when
the force of the potion should cease, and by what unfortunate
miscarriage of the messenger the letters never reached Romeo: further
than this the friar could not follow the story, nor knew more than that
coming himself, to deliver Juliet from that place of death, he found the
Count Paris and Romeo slain. The remainder of the transactions was
supplied by the narration of the page who had seen Paris and Romeo
fight, and by the servant who came with Romeo from Verona, to whom this
faithful lover had given letters to be delivered to his father in the
event of his death, which made good the friar's words, confessing his
marriage with Juliet, imploring the forgiveness of his parents,
acknowledging the buying of the poison of the poor apothecary, and his
intent in coming to the monument, to die, and lie with Juliet. All these
circumstances agreed together to clear the friar from any hand he could
be supposed to have in these complicated slaughters, further than as the
unintended consequences of his own well meant, yet too artificial and
subtle contrivances.

And the prince, turning to these old lords, Montague and Capulet,
rebuked them for their brutal and irrational enmities, and showed them
what a scourge Heaven had laid upon such offences, that it had found
means even through the love of their children to punish their unnatural
hate.

And these old rivals, no longer enemies, agreed to bury their long
strife in their children's graves; and Lord Capulet requested Lord
Montague to give him his hand,