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Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? mine] shall be spent,

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When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those cords:-Poor ropes, you are be-
Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd:
He made you for a highway to my bed;
But I, a inaid, die maiden-widowed.
Come, cords; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-
And death, not Romeo, take my maiden-head!
Nurse. Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo
To comfort you;-1 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

And bid him come to take his last farewell.


Friar Lawrence's Cell.


Enter Friar Lawrence, and Romeo.

Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou
fearful man;

Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
And thou art wedded to calamity.


And steal immortal blessings from her lips;
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin:
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly;
They are free men, but I am banished.
And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death?
But Romeo may not; he is banished. [knife,
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground
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 attend it: How hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend profest,
15To mangle me with that word-banishment?
Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a



Rom. Father, what news? what is the prince's What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That yet know not?

Friar. Too familiar

Is my 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

Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; 0Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,


Fri. A gentler judgement vanish'd from his lips, 35 Not body's death, but body's banishment.



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 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 as I, Juliet thy love,
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.
Fri. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide
[Knock within.
Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick


groans, Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. [Knock.

Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say-death;
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death: 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 walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
And world's exile is death; then banishment
Is death mis-term'd; calling death-banishment,
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.
Fri. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! Run to my study:-By-and-by:-God's will!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince, 50 What wilfulness is this?—I come, I come.
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is

Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog,
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live 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,


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Nurse. O holy friar, O tell me, holy friar,

60 Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?
Fri. There, on the ground, with his own tears
made drunk.

1 Validity seems here to mean worth or dignity; and courtship the state of a courtier permitted to approach the highest presence.


Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress' case, Just in her case!

Fri. O woeful sympathy!
Piteous predicament!

Nurse. Even so lies she,
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubber-
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!

Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir!-death is the end of all.
Rom. Spak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth she not think me an old murderer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood 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 cancell'd love?
Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and


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,

Shot from the deadly level of a gun,

Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand
Murder'd her kinsman.-O 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. [Drawing his sword.


For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there too art thou happy:
The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy friend,
And turns 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 mis'hav'd and a sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
10Take 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;
15 Where thou shalt live, 'till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.—
20 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.

[night, Nurse. O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the 25 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. Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:

30 Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

Fri. Hold thy desperate hand:
Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art;
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
Unseemly woman, in a seeming man!
Or ill-beseeming beast, in seeming both1!
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 too that lives in thee,
By doing damned hate upon thyself? [earth 40
Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do

Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!
Fri. Go hence. Good night :-and here stands
all your state 4,

Either be gone before the watch be set,
35 Or by the break of day disguis'd 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: farewell; good night.
Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee:

In thee at once; which thou at once would'st lose.
Fie, fie! thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit; 45
Which, like an usurer, 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 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-less soldier's flask 2,
Is set on fire by thine own ignorance,
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence '.
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,



A Room in Capulet's House.
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.
Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our daughter:
Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
50 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 time to woo:
Madam, good night: commend me to your

La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to-
To-night she's mew'd' up to her heaviness.

That is, Thou art a beast of ill qualities, under the appearance both of a woman and a man. To understand the force of this allusion, it should be remembered that the ancient English soldiers, using match-locks, instead of locks with flints as at present, were obliged to carry a lighted match hanging at their belts, very near to the wooden flusk in which they kept their powder. 'That is, And thou torn to pieces with thy own weapons. The whole of your fortune depends on this.

A mew was a place of confinement for hawks.

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.-
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here with my son Paris' love;
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-
But, soft; What day is this?

Par. Monday, my lord.

Cap. Monday? ha! ha! Well, Wednesday is too
O' Thursday let it be;-o' Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married 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 carelessly,
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 Thurs-
Par, My lord, I would that Thursday were to-
Cap. Well, get you gone:-o' Thursday be
it then :-

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Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.-
How is 't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.
Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away;
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,

5 Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
Some say, the lark makes sweet division 3;
This doth not so, for she divideth us:
Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes';
O, now I would they had chang'd voices too!
10 Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day.
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light?-more dark and
dark our woes.



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Nurse. Madam!

Jul. Nurse?

Enter Nurse.


[chamber: Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your The day is broke; be wary, look about.

[Exit Nurse. Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll de[Romeo descends.


Jul. Art thou gone so? Love! lord! ah, hus-
band! friend!

I must hear from thee every day i' the hour,
For in a minute there are many days:
O! by this count I shall be much in years,
30 Ere I again behold my Romeo.


Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again? Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall


For sweet discourses in our time to come.

Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining soul;
Methinks, I see thee, now thou art so low,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:

No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks 40 Either my eye-sight fails, or thou look'st pale.

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountains' tops;
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you:
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu!
[Exit Romeo.

Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:
45 If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.

Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I;
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.
Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;|50|
I am content, if thou wilt have it so.
I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye,

Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care to stay, than will to go ;-

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La. Cap. [within.] Ho, daughter! are you up?
Jul. Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?
Is she not down so late, or up so early?
What unaccustom'd cause procures ' her hither?
Enter Lady Capulet.

La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet?
Jul. Madam, I am not well.

• The

Desperate means only bold, advent'rous. 2 The appearance of a cloud opposed to the moon. Division seems to have been the technical term for the pauses or parts of a musical composition. 4 The toad having very fine eyes, and the lark very ugly ones, was the occasion of a common saying amongst the people, that the toad and lark had changed eyes. To this the speaker alludes. meaning is this: The lark, they say, has lost her eyes to the toad, and now I would the toad had her voice too, since she uses it to the disturbance of lovers. The huntsup was the name of the tune anciently played to wake the hunters, and collect them together. 1 Procures for brings. La. Cap

La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?

What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with


[live; An if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him 5 Therefore, have done: Some grief shews much of love;

But much of grief shews still some want of wit.
Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.

He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this haste; that I must wed
Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris:—These are news indeed!
La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him so

La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the 10 And see how he will take it at your hands.

Which you weep for.

Jul. Feeling so the loss,

I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.


La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much
for his death,

As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.
Jul. What villain, madam?

La. Cap. That same villain, Romeo.
Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder.
God pardon him! I do with all my heart;
And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart.
La. Cap. That is, because the traitor murderer

Enter Capulet, and Nurse.

Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;

But for the sun-set of my brother's son,

15 It rains downright.—

How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
Evermore showering? In one little body
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind:
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
20 Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
Who,--raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a sudden calin, will overset

[hands: Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my 'Would, none but I might venge my cousin's 25 death! [not:


La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou
Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,
Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,-
That shall bestow on him so sure a draught,
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied."
Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, 'till I behold him---dead---
Is my poor heart so for a kinsınan vext:---
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it;
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet.---Ó, how my heart abhors
To hear him nar'd,---and cannot come to him;---40
To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt,
Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him!

La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find
such a man.

But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time: What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father,

One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,
That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for.
Jul. Madain, in happy time, what day is that?
La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thurs-
day morn,

The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The county Paris at Saint Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. [too,
Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's church, and Peter

Thy tempest-tossed body.---How now, wife?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives
you thanks:

I would, the fool were married to her grave!
Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with
you, wife.
How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks!
Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought

So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
35 Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that
you have:

Proud can I never be of what I hate;
But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.
Cap. How now! how now! chop logick?---
What is this?

Proud---and, I thank you---and, I thank you not-
And yet not proud---Mistress minion, you,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
45 To go with Paris to Saint Peter's church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. [gage!
Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you bag-
You tallow-face!


La. Cap. Fie! fie! what, are you mad?
Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient


I tell thee what,--get thee to church o' Thursday, 55 Or never after look me in the face:

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; [blest,
My fingers itch.---Wife, we scarce thought us
That God hath sent us but this only child;
But now I see this one is one too much,

It is remarked, that " Paris, though in one place called Earl, is most commonly styled the Countie in this play. Shakspeare seems to have preferred, for some reason or other, the Italian comte to our count; perhaps he took it from the old English novel, from which he is said to have taken his plot.” He certainly did so: Paris is there first styled a young earle, and afterwards counte, counter, and county; according to the unsettled orthography of the time.


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And that we have a curse in having her:
Out on her, hilding!

Nurse. God in heaven bless her!

You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your 5

Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.
Nurse. I speak no treason.
Cap. O, God ye good den!
Nurse. May not one speak?
Cap. Peace, you mumbling


Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,
For here we need it not.

La. Cap. You are too hot.

Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.


Jul. O God!--O nurse!-how shall this be

My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
How shall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth?--comfort me, counsel me.-
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise strata-
10 Upon so soft a subject as myself!-- [gems
What say'st thou hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse.

Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis: Romeo

Is banished; and all the world to nothing,

Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad: Day, 15 That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;

night, late, early,

At home, abroad, alone, in company,
Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been
To have her match'd: and having now provided
A gentleman of princely parentage,

Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
Stuff'd (as they say) with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man,-
And then to have a wretched puling fool,

A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
To answer-I'll not wed,—I cannot love,—
I am too young,-I pray you, pardon me;'—
But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you: [me;
Graze where you will, you shall not house with
Look to 't, think on't, I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:
you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i̇' the streets,
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good:
Trust to 't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn.


Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?-
O, sweet my mother, cast me not away!
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a

Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the county.
Oh! he's a lovely gentleman!

20 Romeo's a dish-clout to him; an eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,



I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first; or if it did not,
Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
As living here and you no use of him.
Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart?
Nurse. And from my soul too;

Or else beshrew them both.

Jul. Amen!

Nurse. What?


Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous
Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeas'd my father, to Lawrence' cell,
35 To make confession, and to be absolv'd.

Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
Jul. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
Is it more sin-to wish me thus forsworn,
40 Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath prais'd him with above compare
So many thousand times?-Go, counsellor;
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.-
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy:

145If all else fail, myself have power to die. [Exit.

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Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife!

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