A/N: so, here's the next chapter! Document loader finally worked...enjoy! hopefully u can tell when R+J ends and P+P begins...

Disclaimer: Romeo and Juliet passages NOT written by me; i'm not that smart...xD

Fitzwilliam strode towards the adjoining bedroom where Elizabeth resided currently, still in the ever-agitating slumber. Upon reaching the doorway, he hesitated; changing his mind he redirected his path towards the library. Easing into a chair, Fitzwilliam glanced around him. The drapes had been pulled open, the dust in the air drifting in the light. The maroon carpet seemed dull to Fitzwilliam's eyes; a continual depression could not bring to life the intricate pattern woven there. Eyes wandering up, Fitzwilliam surveyed the queue of books lining the wall. Thousands of dusty old tomes lay untouched, spines dust-coated.

He moved his elbow to a more comfortable position, or tried; his elbow slipped, sending a whole pile of books to the floor. Bending down, Fitzwilliam picked up the books, stacking them like before. Browsing through the pile, he spotted a book that had the aspect of one read often. Turning in over in his hand, he found it to be a favorite of Mrs. Reynolds'. Romeo and Juliet, Mrs. Reynolds used to read it in the summer months, when, as she said, the weather reflected that of Verona. He had many childhood memories of her reading it, trying to decipher the hidden meanings of Shakespeare's masterpiece. He had often heard passages from it, when he was young and filled with inquiries.

The book fell open to a book-marked page, one where Mrs. Reynolds had presumably left off reading it the previous year. Curious, Fitzwilliam read-

'News from Verona!—How now, Balthasar?

Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?

How doth my lady? Is my father well?

How fares my Juliet? That I ask again,

For nothing can be ill if she be well.'

Fitzwilliam, curious, read Balthasar's reply-

'Then she be well, and nothing can be ill.

Her body sleeps in Capel's monument,

And her immortal part with angels lives.

I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault

And presently took post to tell it you.

O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,

Since you did leave it for my office, sir.'

'Is it e'en so? Then I defy you, stars!

Thou know'st my lodging. Get me ink and paper,

And hire post horses. I will hence tonight.'

'I do beseech you, sir, have patience.

Your looks are pale and wild, and do import

Some misadventure.'

'Tush, thou art deceived.

Leave me and do the thing I bid thee do.

Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?'

'No, my good lord.'

'No matter. Get thee gone,

And hire those horses. I'll be with thee straight.

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee tonight.

Let's see for means. O, mischief, thou art swift

To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!

I do remember an apothecary—

And hereabouts he dwells— which late I noted

In tattered weeds, with overwhelming brows,

Culling of simples. Meager were his looks,

Sharp misery had worn him to the bones,

And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,

An alligator stuffed, and other skins

Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves

A beggarly account of empty boxes,

Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds,

Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses,

Were thinly scattered to make up a show.

Noting this penury to myself I said,

"If a man did need poison now"—

Whose sale is present death in Mantua—

"Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it to him."

Oh, this same thought did but forerun my need,

And this same needy man must sell it to me,

As I remember, this should be the house.

Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.

What, ho! Apothecary!'

Fitzwilliam still read on, now wholly engrossed in the ever-popular storyline. He read through the sale of poison, the return of the letter, and the fight betwixt Romeo and Paris; 'til, running his hands through his hair, he reached the murder of faithful Paris-

'A grave? Oh no. A lantern, slaughtered youth,

For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes

This vault a feasting presence full of light.

Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interred.

How oft when men are at the point of death

Have they been merry, which their keepers call

A lightning before death! Oh, how may I

Call this a lightning?—O my love, my wife!

Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath,

Hath no power yet upon thy beauty.

Thou art not conquered. Beauty's ensign

Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,

And death's pale flag is not advancéd there.—

Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?

O, what more favor can I do thee,

Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain

To sunder his that was thine enemy?

Forgive me, cousin—Ah, dear Juliet,

Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe

That unsubstantial death is amorous,

And that the lean abhorréd monster keeps

Thee here in the dark to be his paramour?

For fear of that, I still will stay with thee,

And never from this palace of dim night

Depart again. Here, here will I remain

With worms that are thy chamber maids. Oh, here

Will I set up my everlasting rest,

And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars

From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last.

Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, O you

The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss

A dateless bargain to engrossing death.'

Romeo kisses Juliet and drinks the poison

'Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide.

Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on

The dashing rocks thou seasick, weary bark.

Here's to my love! O true apothecary,

Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.'

Fitzwilliam's eyes widened in shock, for, though he knew the story, he could not have grasped how truly desperate a man must be to take his own life. Exhaling, he read on, now determined to reach the finish.

A/N: so? sorry you had to read so much R+J, but you can really start to see some similarities. hopefully after i'm done with the Romoe andf Juliet reading, it will stop being so completely angsty...