Jul.
Gallop apace, you fiery-footed Steeds,
Toward Phœbus lodging, such a Waggoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the West,
And bring in cloudy Night immediately.

Spred thy close Curtain, Love-performing night,
That run-aways Eyes may wink, and Romeo
Leap to these Arms, untalkt 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-suted Matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning Match,
Plaid for a pair of stainless Maidenheads,
Hood my unmann'd Blood baiting in my Cheeks,
With thy black Mantle, 'till strange Love grown bold,
Thinks true Love acted simple Modesty:
Come Night, come Romeo, come thou Day in Night,
For thou wilt lye 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 I 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 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! Enter Nurse with Cords.
And she brings News, and every Tongue that speaks
But Romeo's Name, speaks Heavenly Eloquence;
Now Nurse, what News? What hast thou there?
The Cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?

Nur.
Ay, ay, the Cords.

Jul.
Ay me, what News?
Why dost thou wring thy Hands?

Nur.
A weladay 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 Heav'n be so envious?

Nur.
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 Ay;
And that bare Vowel Ay, shall poison more
Than the Death-darting Eye of Cockatrice:
I am not I, if there be such an Ay,
Or those Eyes shot that makes the answer Ay,
If he be slain say Ay, or if not, No.
Brief Sounds determine of my weal or woe.

Nur.
I saw the Wound, I saw it with mine Eyes,
God save the Mark, here on his manly Breast.
A piteous Coarse, a blody piteous Coarse;
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, end motion here,
And thou and Romeo press one heavy Bier.

Nur.
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 slaughter'd? and is Tybalt dead?
My dearest Cousin, and my dearer Lord?
The dreadful Trumpet sound the general Doom,
For who is living, if those two are gone?

Nur.
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?

Nur.
It did, it did, alas the day! it did.

Jul.
O Serpent Heart, hid with a flowring Face,
Did ever Dragon keep so fair a Cave?
Beautiful Tyrant, Fiend Angelical,
Ravenous 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.

Nur.
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-vitæ—
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 him so?

Nur.
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 did'st 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 dead that would have kill'd my Husband;
All this is Comfort; wherefore weep I then?
Some word there was worser than Tybalt's Death
That murdered me; I would forget it fain,
But oh 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 sower woe delights in Fellowship,
And needly will be rank'd with other Griefs,

Why followed 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?

Nur.
Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's Coarse.
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 an Highway to my Bed,
But I a Maid, die Maiden-widowed.
Come Cord, come Nurse, I'll to my Wedding-bed,
And Death, not Romeo, take my Maiden-head.

Nur.
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 Lawrence Cell.

Jul.
O find him, give this Ring to my true Knight,
And bid him come, to take his last Farewel, [Exeunt.

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