Jul. Obreak, my heart!—poor bankrupt, break at once; To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth refign; end motion here; Jul. What ftorm is this, that blows fo contrary? Nurfe. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Jul. O God!-did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did. Jul. O ferpent heart, hid with a flow`ring face! Nurse. Thefe Thefe griefs, these woes, thefe forrows make me old. Shame come to Romeo! Jul. Blister'd be thy tongue, For fuch a wish! he was not born to fhame: Upon his brow shame is asham'd to fit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd O, what a beast was I to chide at him! Nurfe. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin ? Jul. Shall I fpeak 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, didft 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 flain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have flain my husband: Some word there was, worfer than Tybalt's death, But, O! it preffes to my memory, Like damned guilty deeds to finners' minds: Hath flain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death Or, if four woe delights in fellowship, And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,— But, But, with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, In that word's death; no words can that woe found.- Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corfe : 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, He made you for a highway to my bed; Come, cords; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding bed; Jul. O find him! give this ring to my true knight, [Exeunt. SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell. Enter Friar LAURENCE and ROMEO. Fri. 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 forrow craves acquaintance at my hand, Is my dear fon with fuch four company: I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom. Rom. What lefs than dooms-day is the prince's doom ? Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, Not body's death, but body's banishment. Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, fay-death : Much more than death: do not say-banishment. Hence-banished is banish'd from the world, : Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness! And turn'd that black word death to banishment: Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy heaven is here, And And steal immortal bleffing from her lips; Flies may do this, when I from this must fly; And fay'st thou yet, that exile is not death? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; A fin-abfolver, and my friend profefs'd, To mangle me with that word-banishment? Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word. Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; Adverfity's sweet milk, philofophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished. Rom. Yet banished?-Hang up philosophy! Fri. O, then I fee that madmen have no ears. Rom. How should they, when that wife men have no eyes? Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy eftate. 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 me, and like me banished, Then might'ft thou spek, then might't thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave. |