I married them, and their stol'n marriage dayWas Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely deathBanished the new-made bridegroom from this city,For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.You, to remove that siege of grief from her,Betrothed and would have married her perforceTo County Paris. Then comes she to me,And with wild looks bid me devise some meanTo rid her from this second marriage,Or in my cell there would she kill herself.Then gave I her (so tutored by my art)A sleeping potion, which so took effectAs I intended, for it wrought on her the form of death.

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