Jul. Ah me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?

Nurse. Ah well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!

We are undone, lady, we are undone !-

Alack the day!-he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! Jul. Can Heaven be so envious?

Nurse.

Romeo can,

Though Heaven cannot.-O Romeo! Romeo!-
Who ever would have thought it ?-Romeo!

Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but I,
And that bare vowel I shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.
I am not I, if there be such an 1;

Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, I.
If he be slain, say, I; or if not, No;

Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.
Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes
—God save the mark!-here on his manly breast:
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;

Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,
All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.
Jul. Oh, break, my heart!-poor bankrupt, break

at once!

To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty!

Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;
And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!

Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
That ever I should live to see thee dead!

Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter'd? and is Tybalt dead? My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord.— Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the General Doom! For who is living, if those two are gone?

Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished.

Jul. O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's

blood?

Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did. Jul. O serpent-heart, hid with a flow'ring face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-feathered raven! wolfish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of divinest shew! Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, A damned saint, an honourable villain !— O Nature! what hadst thou to do in hell, When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever book, containing such vile matter, So fairly bound? Oh, that Deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace!

Nurse.

There's no trust,

No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd,
All forsworn, all naught, all dissembleërs.-

Ah! where's my man? give me some aqua vitæ.—
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.

Shame come to Romeo!

Jul.

Blister'd be thy tongue, For such a wish! he was not born to shame.

Upon his brow Shame is asham'd to sit;

For 'tis a throne where Honour may be crown'd
Sole monarch of the universal earth.

Oh, what a beast was I to chide at him!

Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin ?

Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah! poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband. Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Your tributary drops belong to woe,

Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.

My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;

And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband.
All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
That murder'd me; I would forget it fain;
But, oh! it presses to my memory,
Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished!
That banished, that one word, banished,

Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there:
Or-if sour Woe delights in fellowship,
And needly will be rank'd with other griefs-
Why follow'd not, when she said, Tybalt's dead,
Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
Which modern lamentation might have mov'd?
But, with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
Romeo is banished!... to speak that word,
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All slain, all dead.-Romeo is banished!
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,

In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.—
Where is my father, and my mother, Nurse?

Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse.
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears; mine shall
be spent,

When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those cords.-Poor ropes, you are beguil❜d,
Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd.

He made you for a highway to my bed;
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.

Come, cords; come, Nurse; I'll to my wedding bed;
And Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
Nurse. Hie to your chamber. I'll find Romeo

To comfort you; I wot well where he is.
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night.
I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.

Jul. Oh, find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO.

Friar.

ROMEO, come forth; come forth, thou fearful

man!

Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,

And thou art wedded to Calamity.

Rom. Father, what news? what is the Prince's
doom?

What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?

Is

Fri.

my

Too familiar

dear son with such sour company.

I bring thee tidings of the Prince's doom.

Rom. What less than Dooms-day is the Prince's doom?

Fri. A gentler judgement vanish'd 18 from his lips, Not body's death, but body's banishment.

Rom. Ha! banishment! be merciful, say, death; For exile hath more terror in his look,

Much more than death. Do not say, banishment.
Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished.
Be patient; for the world is broad and wide.
Rom. There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
And world's exile is death. Then 'banished'
Is death mis-term'd; calling death banishment,
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.

Fri. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind Prince,
Taking thy part, hath rush'd 19 aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to, banishment:
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy; heaven is here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog,

And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven, and may look on her,
But Romeo may not. More validity,

More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion-flies, than Romeo. They may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's band,
And steal immortal blessing from her lips
-Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin-
But Romeo may not; he is banished.

This may flies do, when I from this must fly,
And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death?
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But 'banished' to kill me; 'banished!'

O Friar, the Damned use that word in hell;
Howlings attend it. How hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word, "banished?'

Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a
word.

Rom. Oh! thou wilt speak again of banishment. Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,

To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
Rom. Yet banished!' hang up philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,

It helps not, it prevails not; talk no more.

Fri. Oh! then I see that madmen have no ears. Rom. How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?

Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.

Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel.

Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like
and like me banished,

me,