JULIET: Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou come? Whither hast thou taken me? Were we not dead, before?
ROMEO: I had thought we were. I thought you dead—
JULIET: I thought you banishèd—
ROMEO: Banished were as good as dead, to be parted from your side—
JULIET: Nay, say not so.
ROMEO: That is quite enough said, methinks. Indeed, we cannot say too little in this paradise.
JULIET: Yet how can this paradise be? Romeo, my husband, you took poison—
ROMEO: And you did die of a broken heart.
JULIET: No, I didn’t. Romeo… Friar Lawrence ought to have sent out a letter.
ROMEO: What letter?
JULIET: I was to be married to Paris.
ROMEO: That villain. I slew him, too.
JULIET: Slew Paris?
ROMEO: Ay, he was a rogue and arrant knave and a fool to boot.
ROMEO: He was guarding your tomb.
JULIET: They knew that you would come back. Romeo, I drank no poison. The draught Friar Lawrence brought me was a sleeping cure that forged death before tempering it with dreamless sleep. Yet perhaps I did dream. Perhaps we’re dreaming still.
ROMEO: It matters little now, my Juliet, my wife. Whatever place this is, do you detect the torment of our houses’ war? Do you hear your mother’s painful drone, your father’s tirades, or my father’s woes?
JULIET: I do not. And yet methinks I saw Tybalt here.
ROMEO: The prince of cats.
JULIET: My cousin, husband, and yours.
ROMEO: I came with nothing but love and yet he killed my friend. My friend and the prince’s cousin. And therefore am I banished.
JULIET: Didst not slay him?
ROMEO: He killed Mercutio.
JULIET: Didst not kill thyself?
ROMEO: You were dead. How was I to go on?
JULIET: I, too, killed myself for thee. You left me no poison, yet you left me with a bare bodkin to make my quietus. The untrod depths of hell, I suppose, held no more terror for me than the world I live in. A world where my husband could die after killing my cousin. A world so unjust, where my own father would force me to marry a man I did not love because the man I did… And what of this world? Is this world as cruel? I saw a fool over yonder who spoke of an English King and his tragedy. I’ve seen Romans and Greeks. Oh, Romeo. My sweet, sweet, Romeo…
ROMEO: Perhaps we’ve made it after all, our stars un-cross’d, our lives uninterrupted by the spectre of—
JULIET: Don’t speak. Oh, my Romeo. Methinks there’s yet more to this mystery.