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.

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