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 ^{d note}acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?

Fri.
Too familiar
Is my dear son with such sow'r company.
I bring thee tydings 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,
Than death it self. 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's walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell it self.
Hence banished, is banish'd from the world,

^{e note}

And world-exil'd, is death. Calling death banishment,
Thou cut'st my head off with an golden ax,
And smil'st upon the stroak that murthers me.

Fri.
O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death, but the kind prince
Taking thy part hath rusht aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment.
^{f note}This is meer mercy, and thou seest it not.

Rom.
'Tis torture, and not mercy: heav'n is here
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing
Lives 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 blessings from her lips;*
^{g note}








But Romeo may not, he is banished!
O father, hadst thou no strong poison mixt,
No sharp ground knife, no present means of death,
But banishment to torture me withal?
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 profest,

To mangle me with that word, banishment?

Fri.
Fond mad-man, hear me speak.

Rom.
O thou wilt speak again of banishment.

Fri.
I'll give thee armour to bear off that word,
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, tho' 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 mad men have no ears.

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

Fri.
Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.

Rom.
Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel:
Wert thou as young ^{h note}as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murthered,
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. [Throwing himself on the ground.

Fri.
Arise, one knocks; good Romeo hide thy self. [Knock within.
Thou wilt be taken—stay a while—stand up; [Knocks.
Run to my study—By and by—God's will;
What wilfulness is this—I come, I come. [Knock.
Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?

Nurse. [Within.]
Let me come in, and you shall know my errand:
I come from lady Juliet.

Fri.
Welcome then. Enter Nurse.

Nurse.
O holy Friar, oh tell me holy Friar,

Where is my lady's lord? where's Romeo?

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

Nurse.
O he is even in my mistress's case,
Just in her case, O woful sympathy!
Piteous predicament! even so lies she,
Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
Why should you fall into so deep an oh!—

Rom.
Nurse.

Nurse.
Ah Sir! ah Sir!—Death is the end of all.

Rom.
Speak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth not she think me an old murtherer,
Now have I stain'd the child-hood of our joy
With blood, remov'd but little from her own?
Where is she? and how does she? and what says
My conceal'd lady to our ^{i note}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 cries, and then on Romeo calls,
And then down falls again.

Rom.
As if that name
Shot from the deadly level of a gun
Did murther her, as that name's cursed hand
Murther'd her kinsman. 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.

Fri.
Hold thy desperate hand:
Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art:
Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts do note
Th' unreasonable fury of a beast.
Thou hast amaz'd me. By my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thy self?

And slay thy lady too, that lives in thee?* ^note
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 thou'rt happy too.
The law that threatned 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 ^{l note}pout'st upon thy 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 to Mantua,
Where thou shalt live, 'till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of thy 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 night long,
To hear good counsel: oh, 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.

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

Fri.
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he shall signifie 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. [Exeunt. ^noteSCENE VI.

* [Footnote: Capulet's House. Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.

Cap.
Things have faln 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.

Par.
These times of woe afford no time to wooe:
Madam, good-night, commend me to your daughter.

Cap.
Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my child's love: I think she will be rul'd
In all respects by me, nay more, I doubt it not.
But soft; what day is this?

Par.
Monday, my lord.

Cap.
Monday? ha! ha! well, Wednesday is too soon,
On Thursday let it be: you shall be marry'd.
We'll keep no great a-do—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's an end. But what say you to Thursday?

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

Cap.
Well, get you gone—on Thursday be it then:
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, [To lady Capulet.
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
Farewel, my lord—light to my chamber, hoa!
Good-night. [Exeunt.

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