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Ro. Father what newes? what is the princes doome!
What forrow craues acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?

Fri. Too familiar

Is my deare fonne with fuch fowre company?
I bring thee tidings of the princes doome.

Ro. What leffe then doomesday is the princes doome?
Fri. A gentler iudgement vanisht from his lips,
Not bodies death, but bodies banishment.

Ro. Ha, banishment? be mercifull, fay death:
For exile hath more terror in his looke,
Much more then death, do not fay banishment.

Fri. Here from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Ro. There is no world without Verona walles,
But purgatorie, torture, hell it felfe:

Hence banished, is banifht from the world.
And worlds exile is death. Then banished
Is death, miftearmd, calling death banished,
Thou cutft my head off with a golden axe,
And smileft vpon the ftroke that murders me.

Fri. O deadly fin, O rude vnthankefulnesse,
Thy falt our law calles death, but the kind prince
Taking thy part, hath rufht afide the law,
And turnd that blacke word death to banishment.
This is deare mercy, and thou feeft it not.

Ro. Tis torture and not mercy, heauen is here
Where Iuliet liues and euery cat and dog,
And little moufe, euery vnworthy thing
Liue here in heauen and may looke on her.
But Romeo may not. More validitie,
More honourable state, more courtship liues
In carrion flies, then Romeo: they may feaze

On

On the white wonder of deare Iuliets hand,
And steale immortall bleffing from her lips,
Who euen in pure and veftall modestie
Still blush, as thinking their owne kiffes fin.
This may flies doe, when I from this muft flie,
And faift thou yet that exile is not death?
But Romeo may not, hee is banished.

Flies may doe this, but I from this must flie:
They are freemen, but I am banished.

Hadft thou no poyfon mixt no fharp ground knife,
No fudden meane of death, though nere so meane,
But banished to kill me : banished?

O frier, the damned vse that word in hell:

A

Howling attends it, how haft thou the heart
Being a diuine, a ghostly confeffor,

A fin obfoluer, and my friend profeft,
To mangle me with that word banished?

Fri. Then fond mad man, here me a little fpeake.
Ro. O thou wilt fpeake againe of banishment.
Fri. Ile giue thee armour to keepe off that word,
Aduerfities fweete milke, philofophie,

To comfort thee though thou art banished.

Ro. Yet banished? hang vp philofophie,
Vnleffe philofophie can make a Iuliet,
Difplant a towne, reuerfe a princes doome,
It helpes not, it preuailes not, talke no more.

Fri. O then I fee, that mad men haue no eares.
Ro. How fhould they, when wife men haue no eyes.
Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy estate.

Ro. Thou canst not speake of that thou dost not feele,
Wert thou as young as I, Iuliet thy loue,
An hour but married, Tibalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banished,

Then

Then mighteft thou fpeake,

Then mightest thou teare thy hayre,
And fall vpon the ground as I do now,
Taking the measure of an vnmade graue.

Enter Nurfe, and knockes.

Fri. Arife one knocks, good Romeo hide thy felfe, Ro. Not I, vnleffe the breath of hartficke grones Mist-like infold me from the fearch of eyes.

They knocke.

Fri. Harke how they knocke (whofe there) Romeo arife, Thou wilt be taken, (stay a while) stand vp,

Slud knocke. t

Run to my ftudy by and by t, Gods will
What fimpleneffe is this: I come, I come.

Knocke.

Who knocks fo hard? whence come you? whats your will?

Enter Nurse.

Nur. Let me come in, and you shall know my errant :

I come from lady Iuliet.

Fri. Welcome then.

Nur. O holy frier, O tell me holy frier,

Wheres my ladies lord, wheres Romeo,
Fri. There on the ground,

With his owne teares made drunke.
Nur. O he is euen in my mistreffe cafe,
Iuft in her cafe. O.wofull fimpathy:

*Enter, and, omitted. † knock againe.

(by and by)

Pitious

Pitious predicament, euen fo lies fhe,
Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring,
Stand vp, stand vp, ftand and you be a man,
For Iuliets fake, for her fake rife and stand:

Why should you fall into fo deepe an O:

Rom. Nurfe.

Nur. Ah fir, ah fir, deaths

the end of all.

Ro. Spakeft thou of Iuliet? how is it + with her?

Doth not fhe thinke me an old murtherer,

Now I haue ftaind the childhood ‡ of our ioy,

With blood remoued, but little from her owne?
Where is she? and how doth fhe? and what fayes
My conceald lady to our canceld loue?

Nur. O fhe fayes nothing fir, but weeps and weeps,
And now fals on her bed, and then starts vp,
And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries,

And then downe falls againe.

Ro. As if that name fhot from the deadly leuell of a gun, Did murther her, as that names curfed hand

Murdred her kinfman. Oh tell me frier, tell me,

In what vile part of this anatomie

Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may facke
The hatefull mansion.

Fri. Hold thy defperate hand:

Art thou a man? thy forme cries out thou art:
Thy teares are womanifh, thy wild acts deuote
The vnreasonable furie of a beast.

Vnfeemely woman in a feeming man,

And ill befeeming beast in seeming both,
Thou haft amaz'd me. By my holy order,

I thought thy difpofition better temperd.

Haft thou flaine Tybalt? wilt thou flay thy felfe?
And flay thy lady, that in thy life lies,

death is. tif.

childhead.

By

By doing damned hate vpon thy felfe?

Why rayleft thou on thy birth? the heauen and earth?
Since birth, and heauen and earth, all three doe meet

In thee at once, which thou at once wouldft loofe.

Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy loue, thy wit,
Which like a vfurer aboundst in all :

And vfeft none in that true vfe indeed,

Which should bedecke thy fhape, thy loue, thy wit:
Thy noble shape, is but a forme of waxe,
Difgreffing from the valour of a man,

Thy deare loue fworne but hollow periurie
Killing that lone which thou haft vowd to cherish,
Thy wit, that ornament, to fhape and loue,
Mishapen in the conduct of them both :
Like powder in a skilleffe fouldiers flafke,
Is fet a fier by thine owne ignorance,

And thou difmembred with thine owne defence.
What rowse thee man, thy Iuliet is aliue,
For whofe deare fake thou waft but lately dead.
There art thou happy, Tibalt would kill thee,
But thou flewest Tibalt, there art thou happie.
The law that threatned death becomes thy friend,
And turne it to exile, there art thou happy.
A packe of bleffing light vpon thy backe,
Happineffe courts thee in her beft array,
But like a mifbaued and fullen wench,
Thou puts up thy fortune and thy loue:
Take heede, take heede, for fuch die miferable.
Goe get thee to thy loue as was decreed,
Afcend her chamber, hence and comfort her:
But looke thou ftay not till the watch be fet,
For then thou canst not passe to Mantua,
Where thou shalt liue till wee can find a time

misbehaved.

+ pouift upon.

the

To

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