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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 I; 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. O break, my heart!—poor bankrupt, break
at once'
To prison, eyes; ne'er look on liberty:
Wile 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 1
Is Romeo slaughter'd 1 and is Tybalt dead 2
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

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Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day ! it did.

Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave 1 Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-feather'd raven wolvish-ravening lamb' Despised substance of divinest show ! 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 1– Was ever book containing such vile matter, So fairly bound ! O, 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 dissemblers.Ah! where's my man give me some aqua vitae: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. O, 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 1– 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 1 Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murder'd me. I would forget it sain ; But, O! 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 ranked 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 1 Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: Will you go to them 1 I will bring you thither. Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears 1 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. O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Ereunt.


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

Fro. Too familiar Is my 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 1 Fri. A gentler judgment vanished 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 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 hand, And steal immortal blessing from her lips; Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin: This may flies do, when I from this must fly: And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death But Romeo may not; he is banished. Flies may do this, but I from this must fly: They are free men, but I am banished. 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 1 O friar! the damned use that word in hell: Howling attends 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 1 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; Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished. Rom. Yet banished 1–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. O! then I see that madmen have no ears. Rom. How should they, when that wise men have no eyes 1 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 me, and like me banished, Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

Fri. Arise; one knocks: good Romeo, hide thyself. [Knocking within. Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick

groans, Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. [Knocking. Fri. Hark, how they knock!—Who's there 1– Romeo, arise; Thou wilt be taken.—Stay a while.—Stand up; [Knocking. Run to my study.—By and by:—God's will ! What wilfulness is this!—I come, I come. [Knocking. Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will 1 Nurse. [Within..] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand: I come from lady Juliet. Fri. Welcome, then.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, Where is my lady's lord? where's Romeo? Fri. There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. Nurse. O! he is even in my mistress' case; Just in her case.

Fr. O woeful sympathy' Piteous predicament Nurse. Even so lies she,

Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.—
Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man:
For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;
Why should you fall into so deep an Ol
Rom. Nurse !
Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir!—Death is the end of all.
Rom. Spak'st thou of Juliet ! how is it with her?
Doth she not think me an old murderer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood remov’d but little from her own
Where is she and how doth she and what says
My conceal’d lady to our cancell'd love?
Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and
And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,
And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,
And then down falls again.
Rom. As if that name,
Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand
Murder'd her kinsman.—O tell me, friar, tell me,
In what vile part of this anatomy
Doth my name lodge 1 tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion. [Drawing his sword.
i. Hold thy desperate hand:
Art thou a man thy form cries out, thou art;
Thy tears are womanish: thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
Unseemly woman, in a seeming man:
Or ill-beseeming beast, in seeming both !
Thou hast amaz'd me: by my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slain Tybalt wilt thou slay thyself?
And slay thy lady, too, that lives in thee,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and
earth 1
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
In thee at once, which thou at once would'st lose.
Fie, fie! thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit,
Which, like an usurer, abound'st in all,

And usest none in that true use indeed
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit.
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
Digressing from the valour of a man :
Thy dear love, sworn, but hollow perjury,
Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish ;
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Mis-shapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skill-less soldier's flask,
Is set afile by thine own ignorance,
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
What! rouse thee, man: thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too
The law, that threaten’d death, becomes thy friend,
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy :
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back ;
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a mis-behav'd and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love.
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her;
But, look, thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua:
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back,
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.—
Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
Romeo is coming.
Nurse. O Lord! I could have stay'd here all the
To hear good counsel: O, what learning is –
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir.
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.
[Erit Nurse.
Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this
Fri. Go hence. Good night; and here stands
all your state:—
Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence.
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he shall signify from time to time
Every good hap to you that chances here.
Give me thy hand ; 'tis late: farewell; good night.
Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee:
Farewell. [Ereunt.

Scen E IV.-A Room in CAPULET's House.

Enter CAPULEt, Lady CAPULET, and PARIs.

Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily, That we have had no time to move our daughter. Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I :—well, we were born to die.— . 'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night: I promise you, but for your company, I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

Par. These times of woe afford no time to woo.— Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.

La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to

morrow ; To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my child's love: I think, she will be rul’d In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not. Wise, go you to her ere you go to bed; Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love, And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next—But, soft . What day is this?

Par. Monday, my lord.

Cap. Monday 1 has has Well, Wednesday is

too soon :

O' Thursday let it be :—o' Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl.-
will you be ready ? do you like this haste?
We'll keep no great ado:-a friend or two:-

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SceNE V.—Loggia, or Balcony of JULIET's Chamber.

Enter Romeo and Juliet.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone 1 it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree. Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops: I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light is not day-light; I know it, I: It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua: Therefore, stay yet; thou need'st to be gone.

Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; 1 am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye, "Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;

Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care to stay, than will to go:—
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.-
How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.
Jul. It is, it is; hie hence, be gone, away !
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
Some say, the lark makes sweet division;
This doth not so, for she divideth us :
Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
O! now I would they had chang'd voices too,
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day.
O! now be gone : more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light?—more dark and dark
our Woes.

Enter Nurse. Nurse. Madam | Jul. Nurse. Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your chamber: The day is broke; be wary, look about. [Erit Nurse.

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Methinks, I see thee, now thou art so low,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you:
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu ! adieu !
[Erit Romeo.
Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renown'd for faith ! Be fickle, fortune;
For, then, I hope thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.
La. Cap. [Within..] Ho! daughter, are you up !
Jul. Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?
Is she not down so late, or up so early
What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?

Enter Lady CAPULET. La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet?

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Jul. Madam, I am not well. La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death 1 What! wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears 1 An if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him live: Therefore, have done. Some grief shows much of love ; But much of grief shows still some want of wit. Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend Which you weep for. Jul. Feeling so the loss, I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death, As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.

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