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,

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.

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

(*) First folio, which.

a Sour woe delights in fellowship,-] Compare-
"Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris."

b Modern lamentation-] That is, ordinary, well-known lamentation. So, in "All's Well That Ends Well," Act II. Sc. 3:"Make modern and familiar things, Supernatural and causeless."

And in "As You Like It," Act II. Sc. 9:

"Full of wise saws, and modern instances."

e Wash they his wounds with tears;] All the modern editions place a note of interrogation after these words, but perhaps in error. The Nurse tells Juliet her father and mother are weeping

FRI.

Is

my

dear

Too familiar

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. 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;
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sit;
This may flies do, when I from this must fly;
But Romeo may not; he is 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;
Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,

(*) First folio, banished.

over Tybalt's corse, and asks if she will go to them, to which Juliet replies,-"No, let them wash his wounds with tears; mine shall be spent in wailing Romeo's banishment."

d He is banished.] Here, in the quarto, 1599, occur the following two lines; they are omitted in the folio:

"Flies may do this, but I from this must fly,
They are free men, but I am banished."

Capell rightly conjectures that the author's first draft of this passage was left standing in the MS., and so got printed with the after version.

That exile is not death?-] This line and the preceding one are transposed in the old copics.

To mangle me with that word-banished?

FRI. Thou fond mad man, hear me a little speak."
Rox. 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 ?-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?

FRL. Let me disputet 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 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.
[Knocking within.
FRI. Arise, one knocks; good Romeo, hide
thyself.

ROM. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick groans,

(*) First folio, as Juliet my love.

b Dispute with thee of thy estate.] Let me reason with you upon your affairs.

eKnocking within.] The stage direction in the old copies is, "Enter Nurse, and knockes."

Piteous predicament ! b

Even so lies she,

NURSE. 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 O? ROM. Nurse!

NURSE. Ah sir! ah sir!-Well,* death's 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 stained 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

weeps;

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? tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion. [Drawing his sword.
FRI.
Hold thy desperate hand :
Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art ;(6)
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
Unseemly woman, in a seeming man!
Ort 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 that in thy life lives,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
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 o' fire 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, became thy friend,
And turn'd it to exile; there art thou happy:
A pack of blessings light upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a misbehav'd§ and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:

a What wilfulness is this!] So the first quarto, 1597: all the subsequent editions, quarto and folio, read simpleness.

b Piteous predicament!] These words form part of the Nurse's speech in the old copies. Farmer first suggested they must be the Friar's.

c Drawing his sword.] In the first quarto, 1597, is the following stage direction:-He offers to stab himselfe, and nurse snatches the dagger away.

d That in thy life lives,-] The quarto, 1597, has,"And slay thy lady too, that lives in thee."

The quarto, 1599, and folio, 1623, read.

"And slay thy lady, that in thy life lies."

Why rail'st thou on thy birth,-] Malone justly remarked, that Romeo does not here rail on his birth, though in the old poem he is made to do so:

"Fyrst Nature did he blame, the author of his lyfe,

In which his joyes had been so scant, and sorowes aye so ryfe The time and place of byrth he fiersly did reprove, He cryed out (with open mouth) against the starres above." "Shakspeare copied the remonstrance of the friar, without re viewing the former part of his scene."

f There art thou happy too:] Thus the quarto, 1597; in the subsequent quartos, and the folio, 1623, the word too is omitted. g Thou pout'st upon thy fortune-] The quarto, 1599, reads, puts up; the folio, 1623, puttest up; and in the quarto, 1597, the line stands

"Thou frown'st upon thy fate, that smiles on thee." The true reading is got at through the undated quarto, which has powls.

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 staid here all the night,

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.

[Exit Nurse. ROM. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!

FRI. Go hence: good night; and here stands all your state;-a

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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE 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:

CAP. Monday? ha ha! 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:—
For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much:
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thurs-
day?

PAR. My lord, I would that Thursday were

I will make a confident offer, or promise, of my daughter's love. e Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree:] According to Steevens, this is not merely a poetical supposition. "It is observed," he says, "of the nightingale that, if undisturbed, she sits and sings upon the same tree for many weeks together." And Russell, in his account of Aleppo, tells us, "The nightingale sings from the pomegranate groves in the daytime."

d The pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;] The annotator of Mr. Collier's second folio substitutes bow for "brow;" a very happy

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,(7) 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 not to be
gone.
ROм. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I 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; d
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 changed voices too! Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunts-up(8) 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.

[Exit Nurse. JUL. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. ROM. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.

[ROMEO descends.

conjecture, and one which certainly affords a better reading than the old text. It must be remembered, however, that brow is the word in all the ancient copies, and that Shakespeare has allowed himself great latitude in the use of it in other places. In "Othello" we meet with the "brow of the sea;" and in "King John" with the "brow of night."

• Makes sweet division;] Division in music, meant what we now term variation; where, instead of one note, two, three or more notes are sung to one syllable, or to one chord.

f The lark and loathed toad change eyes;] The lark has ugly eyes and the toad very fine ones; hence arose a common saying that the toad and lark had changed eyes. Poor Juliet wishes they had changed voices, too, because, as Heath suggested, the croak of the toad would have been no indication of the day's approach, and consequently no signal for Romeo's departure.