And bring in cloudy night immediately.—
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night!
That run-away's 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,k

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 new snow on a raven's back.-

Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night,
Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die,
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 enjoyed: 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,

Enter Nurse, with Cords.

And she brings news; and every tongue, that speaks

h That run away's eyes may wink;] i. e. That the eyes of prying persons, who run-away as soon as observed, may wink, i. e. see imperfectly.-These eyes have much puzzled the commentators; and I am very distrustful of the correctness of the above interpretation; but I cannot agree with any other that I have met with. The run-away has been supposed to refer to the sun, to night, to Juliet, to Romeo, and to Fame. There is most probably some typographical error in the lines.

i civil-] i. e. Grave.

k Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks,] These are terms of falconry. An unmanned hawk is one that is not brought to endure company. Bating is fluttering the wings.-STEEVENS.

1

- garish,] i. e. Gaudy, showy.

But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence,.-
Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords,
That Romeo bade thee fetch?

Nurse.

Ay, ay, the cords.

[Throws them down.

Jul. Ah me! what news? why dost thou wring thy

hands?

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 bedawb'd in blood,

All in gore blood;-I swooned 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; and motion here;
And thou, and Romeo, press one heavy bier!
Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!

say thou but I,] In Shakspeare's time the affirmative particle ay, was usually written I, and here it is necessary to retain the old spelling.-MALONE. cockatrice:] A basilisk, an imaginary creature, supposed to be produced from a cock's egg; a production long thought to be real. It was said to be in form like a serpent, with the head of a cock. Many fables were current respecting it, and it was supposed to have so deadly an eye as to kill by the very look.-NARES.

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 slaughter'd; 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 did'st 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 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?-
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?
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,
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 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 : 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.

0

what tongue shall smooth thy name,] To smooth, in ancient language is to stroke, to caress, to fondle.-STEEVENS.

Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts.] That is, is worse than the loss of ten thousand Tybalts.-M. MASON.

modern lamentation-] i. e. Moderate lamentation. Shakspeare uses the word modern for common, slight, and moderate; "with which," says Johnson, "it was, I believe, in his time confounded."

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?

Fri.

Is

my

'Too familiar

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. 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. 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 exíle is death;-then banishment