And yet, no farther than a wanton's bird;
That lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,

JUL. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, So loving-jealous of his liberty.

I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,

That thou consent to marry us to-day.

FRI. Holy saint Francis! what a change is here!
Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,

So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies,
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine

Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:

If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;

BEN. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.

MER. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead!
stabb'd with a white wench's black eye; shot through
the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart
cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft; and is he a
man to encounter Tybalt?

BEN. Why, what is Tybalt?
MER.
More than prince of cats, I
can tell you. O, he's the courageous captain of com-
plements: he fights as you sing prick-song, keeps
time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim
rest, one, two,-and the third in your bosom: the
very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a
gentleman of the very first house,-of the first and
second cause: Ah, the immortal passado! the punto

BEN. The what?

And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then-reverso! the hay!-
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.
ROM. Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
FRI. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
ROM. And bad'st me bury love.
FRI.

Not in a grave,

To lay one in, another out to have.
ROM. I pray thee, chide not: she whom I love

now,

Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow;
The other did not so.

FRI.

MER. The pox of such antick, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accent!- By Jesu, a very good blade!-a very tall man!-a very good whore!-Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grand sire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnezmoys, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bons, their bons!

O, she knew well,
Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell.
But come, young waverer, come go with me,
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.
ROM. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
FRI. Wisely, and slow; they stumble, that run
[Exeunt.

fast.

SCENE IV.-A Street.
Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO.
MER. Where the devil should this Romeo be?-
Came he not home to-night?

BEN. Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
MER. Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench,
that Rosaline,

Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
BEN. Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet,

Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

MER. A challenge, on my life.

BEN. Romeo will answer it.

MER. Any man, that can write, may answer a letter.

ROM. Pink, for flower?
MER. Right.

ROM. Why, then is my pump well flower'd. MER. Sure wit: follow me this jest now, till thou hast worn out thy pump; that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely-singular.

ROM. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness!

MER. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wit faints.

ROM. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.

MER. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done; for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole five. Was I with you there for the goose?

ROM. Thou wast never with me for any thing, when thou wast not there for the goose.

MER. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
ROм. Nay, good goose, bite not.
MER. Thy wit is a very bitter-sweeting; it is a
most sharp sauce.

ROM. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose? MER. O, here's a wit of cheverel, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad!

ROM. I stretch it out for that word-broad: which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

MER. Why, is not this better now, than groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo, now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.

BEN. Stop there, stop there.

MER. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.

BEN. Thou would'st else have made thy tale large. MER. O, thou art deceived, I would have made it short: for I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.

ROM. Here's goodly geer!

Enter Nurse and PETER.

MER. A sail, a sail! a sail!

BEN. Two, two; a shirt, and a smock.

NURSE. Peter!

PETER. Anon?

NURSE. My fan, Peter.

MER. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face.

NURSE. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.

MER. God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.

NURSE. Is it good den?

MER. 'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.

NURSE. Out upon you! what a man are you? ROм. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made, for himself to mar.

NURSE. By my troth, it is well said;-for himself to mar, quoth'a!-Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo?

ROM. I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when you have found him, than he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of that name, for "fault of a worse.

NURSE. You say well.

MER. Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; wisely, wisely.

NURSE. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.

BEN. She will indite him to some supper.

MER. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!
ROм. What hast thou found?

BEN. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. MER. Without his roe, like a dried herring :-0 flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified !-now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura, to his lady, was a kitchen-wench;-marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbé, a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose.-Signior pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop; you gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

ROM. Good morrow to you both; what counterfeit did I give you?

MER. The slip, sir, the slip; can you not con

ceive?

ROм. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was
great; and in such a case as mine, a man may strain |
courtesy.

MER. That's as much as to say-such a case as
yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.
ROM. Meaning-to court'sy.

MER. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
ROM. A most courteous exposition.

MER. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

MER. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten

ROM. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and will speak more in a minute, than he will stand to in a month.

NURSE. An 'a speak any thing against me, I'll take him down an 'a were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates :-And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure.

PET. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side.

NURSE. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave!-pray you, sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bid me inquire you out; what she bid me say, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they say: for the gentlewoman is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly, it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

ROM. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee,

NURSE. Good heart! and, i' faith, I will tell her as much: Lord, lord, she will be a joyful woman.

ROM. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.

NURSE. I will tell her, sir,-that you do protest; which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

ROM. Bid her devise some means to come to shrift

This afternoon;

And there she shall at friar Laurence' cell

Be shriv'd, and married. Here is for thy pains.
NURSE. No, truly, sir; not a penny.

ROM. Go to; I say, you shall.

NURSE. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

ROм. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbeywall:

Within this hour my man shall be with thee,

And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair,

Which to the high top-gallant of my joy

Must be my convoy in the secret night.

Farewell!-be trusty, and I ll quit thy pains:
Farewell!-commend me to thy mistress.

NURSE. Now God in heaven bless thee !-hark
you, sir.

ROM. What say'st thou, my dear nurse?

NURSE. Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear

say

Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

ROM. I warrant thee; my man's as true as steel.
NURSE. Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest
lady-Lord, lord! when 'twas a little prating thing,
-Ó,-there's a nobleman in town, one Paris, that
would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had
as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see him.
I anger
her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer
man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks
as pale as any clout in the varsal world.
Doth not
rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?
ROм. Ay, nurse; What of that? both with an R.
NURSE. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R
is for the dog. No; I know it begins with somc
other letter: and she hath the prettiest sententious of
it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to
hear it.

ROM. Commend me to thy lady.
NURSE. Ay, a thousand times.-Peter!
PETER. Anon.

NURSE. Before, and apace.

SCENE V.-Capulet's Garden.

Enter JULIET.

[Exit.

My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me :

But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
Unwieldly, slow, heavy and pale as lead.

Enter Nurse and PETER.

O God, she comes!-O honey nurse, what news?
Hast thou met with him? send thy man away.
NURSE. Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit PETER.
JUL. Now, good sweet nurse,-O lord! why look'st
thou sad?

Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face.

NURSE. I am aweary, give me leave awhile;
Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had!
JUL. I would, thou hadst my bones, and I thy

news:

Nay, come, I pray thee, speak ;-good, good nurse,
speak.
NURSE. Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile?
Do you not see that I am out of breath?
JUL. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast
breath

To say to me-that thou art out of breath?
The excuse, that thou dost make in this delay,
Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.

And, I warrant, a virtuous :-where is your mother?
JUL. Where is my mother?-why, she is within ;
Where should she be? how oddly thou reply'st:
Your love says like an honest gentleman,-
Where is your mother?

NURSE.

O, God's lady dear!
Are you so hot? marry come up, I trow;
Is the poultice for my aching bones?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.

JUL. Here's such a coil ;-come, what says Romeo?
NURSE. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-
day?
JUL. I have.

NURSE. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence'
cell,

There stays a husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They 'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
Hie you to church; I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb a bird's nest soon, when it is dark:
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight;
But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.

JUL. Hie to high fortune !-honest nurse, farewell. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter Friar LAURENCE and ROMEO.

Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance: Let me be satisfied, is 't good or bad? NURSE. Well, you have made a simple choice; FRI. So smile the heavens upon this holy act, [Exeunt. you know not how to choose a man: Romeo! no, That after-hours with sorrow chide us not! not he; though his face be better than any man's, yet ROм. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, his leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy and a body, though they be not to be talk'd on, yet That one short minute gives me in her sight: they are past compare: he is not the flower of Do thou but close our hands with holy words, courtesy, but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Then love-devouring death do what he dare; Go thy ways, wench; serve God:-what, have you It is enough I may but call her mine.

JUL. The clock struck nine, when I did send the dined at home?

nurse:

In half an hour she promis'd to return.
Perchance, she cannot meet him :-that's not so.-
O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
Driving back shadows over lowring hills:
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love,
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill

Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours,-yet she is not come.
Had she affections, and warm youthful blood,
She'd be as swift in motion as a ball;

JUL. No, no: but all this did I know before;
What says he of our marriage? what of that?
NURSE. Lord, how my head aches! what a head

have I ?

It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back o' t' other side,-O, my back, my back!—
Beshrew your heart, for sending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

JUL. I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well:
Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my
love?

NURSE. Your love says like an honest gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,

FRI. These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite:
Therefore, love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

Enter JULIET.

Here comes the lady:-O, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint :
A lover may bestride the gossamer
That idles in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall, so light is vanity.

JUL. Good even to my ghostly confessor.

FRI. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
JUL. As much to him, else is his thanks too much.
ROM. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath

Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants.
BEN. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire;
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl;
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

MER. Thou art like one of these fellows, that, when
he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword
upon the table, and says, God send me no need of thee!
and, by the operation of the second cup, draws him on
the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.
BEN. Am I like such a fellow?

MER. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy

This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue,
Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
Receive in either, by this dear encounter.

JUL. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth;

ACT III.

SCENE I.-A Public Place.

MER. And but one word with one of us? couple it
with something; make it a word and a blow.
TYB. You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an
you will give me occasion.

MER. Could you not take some occasion without
giving?

TYB. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,MER. Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!

BEN. We talk here in the public haunt of men :

MER. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes; what eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

BEN. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

MER. The fee-simple? O simple!

BEN. By my head, here come the Capulets.

MER. By my heel, I care not.

Enter TYBALT and others.

Or reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
MER. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them
gaze;

I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
TYB. Well, peace be with you, sir! here comes my

TYB. Romeo, the love I bear thee, can afford
No better term than this-Thou art a villain.
ROм. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee,
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting :-Villain am I none;
Therefore farewell; I see, thou know'st me not.
TYB. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw.
ROм. I do protest, I never injured thee;
But love thee better than thou canst devise,
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:
And so, good Capulet,-which name I tender
As dearly as mine own,-be satisfied.

MER. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!

TYB. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.-A la stoccata carries it away.Gentlemen, good den; a word with one of you.

Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

[Draws.

MER.

[Exeunt TYBALT and his partizans.
I am hurt.-

A plague o' both the houses!-I am sped :-
Is he gone, and hath nothing?
BEN.

What, art thou hurt?
MER. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis

enough ;

Where is my page?-go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
[Exit Page.

ROM. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. MER. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world :-A plague o' both your houses!-'zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic!-Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your

arm.

ROM. I thought all for the best.

MER. Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint: a plague o' both your houses! They have made worm's meat of me;

I have it, and soundly too:-your houses!

[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO.

ROM. This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt

In my behalf; my reputation stain'd

With Tybalt's slander, Tybalt, that an hour

Hath been my cousin :-O sweet Juliet,

Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,

And in my temper soften'd valour's steel.

Re-enter BENVOLIO.

BEN. O Romeo, Romeo! brave Mercutio's dead;

That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds,

Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.

ROM. This day's black fate on more days doth depend;

This but begins the woe, others must end.

Re-enter TYBALT.

BEN. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
ROM. Alive in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven, respective lenity,
And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now!-
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'st me; for Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company;
Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
TYB. Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him
here,
Shalt with him hence.

BEN. There lies that Tybalt.
I CIT.

Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night, When I, thy three-hours' wife, have mangled it ?—

Up, sir, go with me; Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die,

I charge thee in the prince's name, obey.

Enter PRINCE, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET,
their Wives and others.

PRIN. Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
BEN. O noble prince, I can discover all
The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:
There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

LA. CAP. Tybalt, my cousin!-O my brother's
child!

O prince! O cousin! husband! O the blood is spill'd
Of my dear kinsman!-Prince, as thou art true,
For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.--
O cousin, cousin!

Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine,
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.-
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possess'd it; and, though I am sold,
Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day,
As is the night before some festival

To an impatient child, that hath new robes,
And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,
And she brings news; and every tongue, that speaks
But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence.-
Enter Nurse, with cords.

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 hus-
band:

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, 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,

Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death

cords,

PRIN. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
BEN. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did That Romeo bid thee fetch?
slay;

Romeo that spoke him fair, bid him bethink
How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal
Your high displeasure: all this-uttered

With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,—
Could not take truce with the unruly spleen,

Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast;
Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point,

And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
Cold death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,

NURSE.

Ay, ay, the cords.
[Throws them down.
why dost thou wring thy
NURSE. Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead,

JUL. Ah me! what news!

hands?

he's dead!

We are undone, lady, we are undone !—
Alack the day!-he's gone, he's killed, 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!

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:

JUL. What devil art thou, that dost torment me Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.

thus?

Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.

tongue,

His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled;
But by and by comes back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
And to't they go like lightning; for, ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain;
And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly:
This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

LA. CAP. He is a kinsman to the Montague,
Affection makes him false, he speaks not true:
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life:
I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.

PRIN. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
MON. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's
friend;

His fault concludes but, what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.

PRIN.

And, for that offence,

Immediately we do exíle him hence:

I have an interest in your hates' proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding;
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine,
That you shall all repent the loss of mine:

I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;

Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuses,
Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste,
Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body, and attend our will:
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II-A Room in Capulet's House.
Enter JULIET.

JUL. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus' lodging; such a waggoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.—
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night!
That run-aways' eyes may wink, and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen!—
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties: or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night.-Come, civil night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:
Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,
Think true love acted, simple modesty.

Come, night! come, Romeo! come, thou day in night!
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than snow upon a raven's back.-

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, 7.
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!
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 slaughtered? 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-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 ?—
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 vita:-
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 ashamed 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,

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. O find him! give this ring to my true knight,
And bid him come to take his last farewell.

Is my dear son with such sour company :
I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
ROM. What less than doom's-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, say-death:
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death: do not say-banishment.
FRI. 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-
Is death mis-term'd calling death, banishment,
Thou cutt'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;