Nur.

I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery? ^note

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.

Nur.

An 'a speak any ^note thing against me, I'll take him down, an 'a were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I can not, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy

knave! I am none of his flirt-gills ^note; I am none of his ^note skaines-mates:—And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure.

Man.

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.

Nur.

Now, afore God, I am so vext, that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave!—Pray you, sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bad ^note me enquire you out; what she bad ^note me say, I will keep to myself: But first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a ^note 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 offer'd to any gentlewoman, ^note and very weak dealing.

Rom.

Nurse ^note, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee,—

Nur.

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.

Nur.

I will tell her, sir,—that you do protest; which, as I take it, is a ^note gentleman-like offer.

Rom.
Bid her devise some means to come to shrift
This afternoon;
And there she shall at friar Lawrence' cell
Be shriv'd, and marry'd. Here &dagger2; is for thy pains.

Nur.
No, truly, sir; not a penny.

Rom.
Go to; I say, you shall.

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

Rom.
And stay, good ^note nurse, behind the abbey wall:

Within this hour my man shall be with thee;
And bring thee cords made like a tackl'd ^note stair,
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
Must be my convoy in ^note the secret night.
Farewel!—Be trusty, and I'll quite ^note thy pains;
Farewel!—Commend me to thy mistress.

Nur.
Now God in heaven bless thee!—Hark you, sir. [calling him back.

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

Nur.
Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say—
Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

Rom.
I warrant thee; my man's ^note as true as steel.

Nur.
Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady—
Lord, lord!—when 'twas a little prating thing,—O,
There is a nobleman in town, one Paris,
That would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul,
Had as lieve see ^note a toad, a very toad,
As see him: I do anger ^note 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 i' the 'versal world.
Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin
Both with a letter?

Rom.
Ay, nurse; What of that?
Both with an R.

Nur.
Ah, mocker! that's the dog's ^note name;
R for thee? no; ^note I know, it begins with
Some other letter: and she hath the prettiest
Sententious of it, of you and rosemary,
'Twould do you good to hear it.

Rom.
Commend me to thy lady. [Exit.

Nur.
Ay, a thousand times.—Peter!

Man.
Anon?

Nur.
Before;
And walk apace. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Capulet's Garden. Enter Juliet.

Jul.
The clock strook nine, when I did send the 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 ^note should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide ^note 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 ^note long ^note hours, yet she is not come:
Had she affections, and warm youthful blood,
She'd ^note be as swift in motion as a ball;
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me:
But old folks,14Q1401 many fain as they were dead;
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. Enter Nurse, and her Man.
O God, she comes!—O honey nurse, what news?
Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.

Nur.
Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit Man.

Jul.
Now, good sweet nurse,—O lord, why look'st ^note thou sad?
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
If good, thou sham'st the musick of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face.

Nur.
I am aweary ^note, give me leave a while;—
Fie, how ^note my bones ake! What a jaunt ^note have I had ^note!

Jul.
I would, thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:
Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good good ^note nurse, speak.

Nur.
Jesu, what haste? can you not stay a while?
Do you not see, that ^note 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.
Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
Let me be satisfy'd; Is't good, or bad?

Nur.
Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not
How to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he;
Though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg ^note
Excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot,
And a body ^note,—though they be not to be talk'd on,
Yet they are past compare:
He is not the flower of courtesy, but, I'll warrant ^note him,
As gentle as a ^note lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serve God:
What, have you din'd at home?

Jul.
No, no: But all this ^note did I know before;
What says he of our marriage? what of that?

Nur.
Lord, how my head akes! what a head have I!
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back o' t' other side,—O, my ^note back, my back!—
Beshrew your heart, for sending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting ^note up and down!

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

Nur.
Your love says like an honest gentleman,

And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I warrant,
A virtuous: Where's 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 ^note?

Nur.
O god's lady dear!
Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow;
Is this the poultice for my aking bones?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.

Jul.
Here's such a coil;—Come, what says Romeo?

Nur.
Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?

Jul.
I have.

Nur.
Then hie you hence to friar Lawrence' cell,
There stays a husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in scarlet ^note 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 burthen soon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.

Jul.
Hie to high fortune;—honest nurse, farewel. [Exeunt, severally. SCENE III. Friar Lawrence's Cell. Enter Romeo, and Friar Lawrence.

Fri.
So smile the heavens upon this holy act,
That after hours with sorrow chide us not!

Rom.
Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy

That one short minute gives me in her sight:
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then love-devouring death do what he dare,
It is enough I may but call her mine.

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 ^note 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 gossamour, ^note
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 ^note thanks too much.

Rom.
Ah ^note, 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
This neighbour air, and let rich musick's ^note 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;
But my true love is grown to such ^note excess,
I cannot sum up half my sum of ^{note note} wealth.

Fri.
Come, come with me, and we will make short work;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
'Till holy church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A publick Place. Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, Page, and Servants.

Ben.
I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire;
The day is hot, the Capulets ^note 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 those ^note 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 it on ^note 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 mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be mov'd.

Ben.

And what to?

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, could ^note 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 quarreling: thou hast quarrel'd with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath waken'd thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: Did'st thou not fall out with a taylor,

for wearing his new doublet before easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me for quarreling ^note!

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 ^note.

Mer.

By my heel, I care not.

Tyb.

Follow me close, for I will speak to them.— Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.

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 ^note 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 † fiddle-stick; here's that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort ^note!

Ben.
We talk here in the publick haunt of men:
Either withdraw14Q1402 unto some private place,
And reason ^note 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. Enter Romeo.

Tyb.
Well, peace be with you, sir; here comes my man.

Mer.
But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery:

Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower:
Your worship, in that sense, may call him—man.

Tyb.
Romeo, the hate I ^note bear thee can afford
No better term than this—Thou art a villain.

Rom.
Tybalt, the reason I ^note have to love thee
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting: Villain am I none ^note;
Therefore, farewel; I see, thou know'st me not.

Tyb.
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw.

Rom.
I do protest, I never injur'd thee;
But love ^note 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 my own ^note,—be satisfy'd.

Mer.
O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
A la stoccata ^note carries it away ^note.— [draws.
Tybalt, you rat-catcher, come, will you walk?

Tyb.
What would'st ^note thou have with me?

Mer.

Good king of cats, nothing, but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.

Tyb.

I am for you.

Rom.

Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

Mer.

Come, sir, your passado.

Rom.
Draw, Benvolio; [draws, and runs between.
Beat down their weapons:—Gentlemen, for shame
Forbear this outrage;—Tybalt—Mercutio— [striving to part them.
The prince expresly hath forbid ^note this ^note bandying

In Verona ^note streets:—hold, Tybalt;—good Mercutio. [Tybalt wounds Mercutio, and Exit.

Mer.
I am hurt;—
A plague o'both ^note 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 pepper'd, I warrant, for this world; A plague o' both ^note your houses!—What, a ^note 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 arithmetick!—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 worms' meat of me:
I ha't, and soundly too: Your houses! [Exit, led by Benvolio and Servants.

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 kinsman: ^note—O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper soften'd valour's steel. Re-enter Benvolio, hastily.

Ben.
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's ^note 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 ^note days doth depend ^note;
This but begins the woe, others must end. Re-enter Tybalt.

Ben.
Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

Rom.
Again ^note?14Q1403 in ^note triumph? and Mercutio slain?
Away to heaven, respective lenity,
And fire-ey'd ^note fury ^note be my conduct now!—
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late ^note thou gav'st me; for Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads ^note,
Staying for thine to keep him ^note company;
Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. ^note

Tyb.
Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
Shalt with him hence.

Rom.
This shall determine that. [fight. Tybalt falls.

Ben.
Romeo, away, be gone;
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain:
Stand not amaz'd; the prince will doom thee death,
If thou art taken; hence, be gone, away.

Rom.
O, I am fortune's fool!

Ben.
Why dost thou stay? [Exit Romeo. Enter Citizens, Officers, &c.

1. O.
Which way ran he, that kill'd Mercutio?
Tybalt, that murtherer, which way ran he?

Ben.
There lies that Tybalt.

1. O.
Up, sir, go with me;
I charge thee in the prince's name ^note, obey. Enter Prince, and Attendants; Mountague, Capulet, their Wives, and Others.

Pri.
Where are the vile ^note 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.

L. C.
Tybalt, my cousin!—O my brother's child!—
O prince!—O husband! ^note—O, the blood is spill'd
Of my dear kinsman!—Prince, as thou art true,
For blood of ours shed blood of Mountague.—
O cousin, cousin!

Pri.
Benvolio, who began this bloody ^note fray?

Ben.
Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;
Romeo that spoke him fair, bad ^note 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 ^note 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,
Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his tongue,
His agil ^note 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.

L. C.
He is a kinsman to the Mountague,
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.

Pri.
Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?

Mou.
Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend; ^note
His fault concludes but, what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.

Pri.
And, for that offence,
Immediately we do exile him hence:
I have an interest in your hates' ^note 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 ^note be deaf to pleading and excuses;
Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuses ^note,
Therefore use none: Let Romeo hence in haste,
Else, when he's found, that hour is his last ^note.
Bear hence this body, and attend our will:
Mercy but murders, pard'ning those that kill. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Capulet's Garden. Enter Juliet.

Jul.
Gallop apace14Q1404, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards ^note Phœbus' lodging ^note; 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 the run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo
Leap ^note to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen.—
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By ^note 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 maidenheads ^note:
Hood my unman'd blood, baiting in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle; 'till strange love, grown ^note 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 ^note snow on ^note a raven's back.—
Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night;
Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall ^note die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars;
And he will make the face of heaven so fine,
That all the world shall be ^note 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, at a Distance.
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. [throwing them down.

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

Nur.
Ah wel-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead ^note:—
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?

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 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 ^note, that makes thee answer I.
If he be slain, say—I; or if not, no:
Brief sounds determine of ^note 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 corse, a bloody piteous corse;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd ^note in blood,
All in gore blood; I sownded ^note at the sight.

Jul.
O break, my heart; poor bankrupt ^note, 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 ^note heavy bier ^note! [sinking into a Seat.

Nur.
O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman ^note!

That ever I should live to see thee dead!

Jul.
What storm is this, that blows ^note so contrary? [starting up.
Is Romeo slaughter'd? and is Tybalt dead?
My dearest cousin, and my dearer lord?—
Then, 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? ^note

Nur.
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!14Q1405 wolvish-rav'ning lamb!
Despised substance of divinest show ^note;
Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,
A damned ^note saint, an honourable villain!—
O, nature, what hadst thou to do in hell,
When thou didst bower ^note 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 at ^note him! ^note

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 mangl'd 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 ^note, mistaking, offer up to joy.
My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
And Tybalt dead, that would have slain my ^note husband:
All this is comfort; Wherefore weep I then?
Some word ^note there was ^note, 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?

Nur.
Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse ^note:
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 ^note; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding bed;
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead.

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 &dagger2; ring to my true knight;
  And bid him come, to take his last farewel. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Friar Lawrence's Cell. Enter Friar Lawrence.

Fri.
Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man; Enter Romeo.
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.
Too familiar

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 ^note than death: do not say—banishment.

Fri.
Here ^note 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 ^note from the world,
And world's-exíle ^note is death; then banishment ^note
Is death mis-term'd calling death—banishment ^note,
Thou cut'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 ^note aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
This is dear mercy ^note, and thou see'st 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 ^note 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 ^note from her lips;
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,

Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin: ^note
Flies may14Q1406 do this, but I from this must fly; ^note
They are free men, but I am banished.
Hadst thou no poison mixt, no sharp ^note-ground ^note 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 ^note attend ^note it: How hast ^note thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
A sin-absolver ^note, and my friend profest,
To mangle me with that word—banishment?

Fri.
Thou fond ^note mad man, hear me a little ^note speak.

Rom.
O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

Fri.
I'll give thee armour to keep off ^note 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 ^note have no ears.

Rom.
How should they, when that ^note wise men have no eyes?

Fri.
Let me dispute ^note with thee of thy estate.

Rom.
Thou canst not speak of what ^note thou dost not feel:
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love ^note,
An hour but marry'd, Tybalt murdered,
Doating 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. [Knock within.

Fri.
Arise, one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.

Rom.
Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick groans,
Mist-like, enfold me from the search of eyes. [Knock again.

Fri.
Hark, how they knock!—Who's there?—Romeo, arise;
Thou wilt be taken:—Stay a while:—stand up; [Knock again.
Run to my study:—By and by:—God's will!
What simpleness ^note is this?—I come, I come. [Knock again.
Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?

Nur. [within.]
Let me come in, and you shall know my errand;
I come from lady Juliet.

Fri.
Welcome then. [opens. Enter Nurse.

Nur.
O holy friar, o, tell me, holy friar,
Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?

Fri.
There, on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.

Nur.
O, he is even in my mistress' case ^note,
Just in her case,—O woeful sympathy!
Piteous predicament!—even so lies she,
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?

Nur.
Ah, sir! ah, sir! death ^note is the end of all.

Rom.
Spak'st ^note thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth she not think me an old murtherer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood ^note 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 cancel'd love? ^note

Nur.
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, [starting up.
Shot from the deadly level ^note of a gun,
Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand
Murder'd her kinsman.—Tell ^note me, friar, tell me, [drawing out a Dagger.
In what vile part of this anatomy ^note
Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion.

Fri.
Hold thy desperate hand [wresting the Dagger from him.
Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art;
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote ^note
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
Unseemly woman, in a seeming man!
And 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 ^note,
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 ^note, 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 ^note 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 the skill- ^noteless soldier's flask,
Is set on 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 too ^note art thou happy:
The law, that threaten'd death, becomes ^note thy friend,
And turns ^note it to exíle; there art thou happy:
A pack of blessings ^note light ^note upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best ^note array;
But, like a mis-'hav'd ^note and a sullen ^note wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy ^note fortune and thy love:
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 the Mantua;
Where thou shalt live, 'till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince ^note, 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.

Nur.
O lord, I could have stay'd here all the ^note 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.

Nur.
Here, &dagger2; sir, a ring she bid ^note me give you, sir:
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

Rom.
How well my comfort is reviv'd by this.

Fri.
Go hence, good night:—[Exit Nurse.] and here stands all your state,—
Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day disguis'd ^note 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, farewel, good night.

Rom.
But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief so brief to part with thee:
Farewel. [Exeunt, severally. SCENE VII. A Room in Capulet's House. Enter Capulet, Paris, and Lady Capulet.

Cap.
Things have fall'n 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:
I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

Par.
These times of woe afford no times to woo:
Madam, good night; commend me to your daughter.

L. C.
I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;

To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness.

Cap.
Sir Paris, [calling him back.] I will make a desperate tender
Of my child's love: I think, she will be ^note rul'd
In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.—
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here of ^note my son Paris' love;
And bid her, mark you me, on we'nsday next—
But, soft; What day is this?

Par.
Monday, my lord.

Cap.
Monday? ha, ha! Well, we'nsday ^note is too soon,
O' thursday let it be;—o' thursday, tell her,
She shall be marry'd 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 carelesly,
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 thursday?

Par.
My lord, I would that thursday were to-morrow.

Cap.
Well, get you gone; o' thursday be it then:—
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day.—
Farewell, my lord.—[Exit Par.] Light to my chamber, ho!
Now, afore me, it is so very ^note late,
That we may call it early by and by:—
Good night. [Exeunt, severally.

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