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Rom. Father, what news ? what is the prince's doom?
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?
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?
Fri. L. A gentler judgement vanish'd from his lips, IO
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. L. Here 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' 20
Is death mis-term’d: calling death banished,'
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.
Fri. L. 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 30
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-Aies 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 n;
But Romeo may not; he is banished:
This may fies do, but I from this must Ay:
They are free men, but I am banished:
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;
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'?
Fri. L. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.
Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
Fri. L. 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. L. O, then I see that madmen have no ears.
Rom. How should they, when that wise men have no eyes ?
Fri. L. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
Rom. Thou canst not speak of that 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 mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy
And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
[Knocking within. Fri. L. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself. Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick groans Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes.
[Knocking. Fri. L. Hark, how they knock! Who's there ? Romeo,
Thou wilt be taken.-Stay awhile !-Stand up;
[Knocking Run to my study.-By and by !-God's will, What simpleness is this !-I come, I come!
[Knocking. Who knocks so hard ? whence come you? what's
Nurse. [Within] Let me come in, and you shall know my
errand; I come from Lady Juliet. Fri. L.
Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
Where is my lady's lord, where 's Romeo ?
Fri. L. There on the ground, with his own tears made
drunk. Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress'
Just in her case!
O woeful sympathy!
Piteous predicament !
Even so lies she,
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
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 O?
Rom. Nurse !
Nurse. Ah sir ! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.
Rom. Spakest 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 removed 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 weeps;
And now falls on her bed ; and then starts up, 100
And Tybalt calls ; and then on Romeo cries,
And then down falls again.
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? tell me, that I may
The hateful mansion.
[Drawing his sword.
Hold thy desperate hand:
Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art :
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote ΙΙο
The unreasonable fury of a beast : chat come
Unseemly woman in a seeming mänumang wat
bent was the entran
chy adag , 2
to Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all, Raseini, Thy dear love sworn, but hollow perjury, warehly killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish; gou uit hy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both !
Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
Uli By doing damned hate upon thyself?
SA. Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven and earth ?
Since birth and heaven and earth, all three do meet
art in the In thee at once, which thou at once wouldst lose. 121 komputer word Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy Wit; Qg. 2, Love
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;
Mis-shapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask,
Is set a-fire by thine own ignorance,
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's death, becomes thy friend,
And turns it to exile ; there art thou happy: 140
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best array ;
But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love: