Or, if four woe delights in fellowship,

And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,-
Why follow'd not, when the faid-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 fpeak that word,

Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All flain, all dead :-

Romeo is banifhed

There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,

In that word's death: no words can that woe found.Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?

Nurfe. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corfe:
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Jul. Wafh they his wounds with tears? mine fhall be
fpent,

When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up thofe 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.

C

Come, cords; come, nurfe; I'll to my wedding bed;
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
Nurfe. 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 laft farewel.

[Exeunt. SCENE III. Friar LAWRENCE's cell.

Enter Friar LAWRENCE, and ROMEO.

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

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 forrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not?

Fri. Too familiar

Is dear fon with fuch four company:

my

I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

Rom. What lefs than doomsday 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, fay-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-banifhed is banish'd from the world,
And world's exile is death; then banishment
Is death mif-term'd: calling death-banishment,
Thou cutt'ft my head off with a golden axe,
And fmil'ft upon the stroke that murders me.
Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
Taking thy part, hath rufh'd afide the law,

And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
This is dear mercy, and thou feelt it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog,
And little moufe, 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 feize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And fteal immortal bleflings from her lips;
Who, even in pure and veital modefty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses fin:
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 banifhed.

Hadft thou no poifon mix'd, no fharp ground knife,
No fudden mean of death, though ne'er fo mean,
But banished-to kill me? banished!
O friar, the damned use that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: How haft thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghoftly confeffor,

A fin-abfolver, and my friend profeft,

To mangle me with that word-banishment?
Fri. Thou fond madman, hear me but speak a word,
Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;
Adverfity's fweet milk, philofophy,

To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Rom. Yet banished-Hang up philofophy! Unless philofophy can make a Juliet,

Difplant a town, reverse a prince's doom;

It helps not, it prevails not,

talk no more.

Fri. O, then I fee that madmen have no ears. Rom. How fhould they, when that wife men have no eyes?

Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy estate.

[feel;

Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but marry'd, Tybalt murdered, Doating like me, and like me banifhed,

Then

Then might'ft thou fpeak, then might'st thou tear thy hair,

And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

Fri. Arife; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself. [Knock within. Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-fick groans, Mift-like, infold me from the fearch of eyes.

[Knock.

Fri. Hark, how they knock!Who's there?
Romeo, arife;

Thou wilt be taken :- -Stay a while :

Run to my study:- -By and by :

-ftand up;

[Knock.

God's will!

What wilfulness is this?- -I come, I come.

[Knock

Who knocks fo hard? whence come you? what's your will?

Nurfe. [within.] Let me come in, and you fhall know my errand;

I come from lady Juket.

Fri. Welcome then.

Enter Nurfe

Nurfe. 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 Nurfe. O, he is even in my mistress' cafe, [drunk. Juft in het cafe!——

Fri. O woeful fympathy!

Piteous predicament!

Nurfe. Even fo lies fhe,

Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering :Stand up, ftand up; ftand, an you be a man:

F 2

For

For Juliet's fake, for her fake, rise and stand;
Why fhould you fall into fo deep an O?

Rom. Nurfe!

Nurfe. Ah fir! ah fir !-death is the end of all. Rom. Spak'ft thou of Juliet? how is it with her? Doth fhe not think me an old murderer,

Now I have ftain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood remov'd but little from her own?
Where is the? and how doth fhe? and what says
My conceal'd lady to our cancell❜d love?

Nurfe. O, the fays nothing, fir, 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,

Shot from the deadly level of a gun,

Did murder her; as that name's curs'd hand

Murder'd her kinfman.-O tell me, friar, tell me, In what vile part of this anatomy

Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may fack

The hateful manfion.

[Drawing his fword.

Fri. Hold thy desperate hand:

Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art;
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
The unreafonable fury of a beast :

Unfeemly woman, in a feeming maǹ !
Or ill befeeming beaft, in feeming both!
Thou haft amaz'd me: by my holy order,
I thought thy difpofition better temper'd.
Haft thou flain Tybalt? wilt thou flay thyself?
And flay thy lady too that lives in thee,
By doing damned hate upon thyfelf?

Why rail'ft thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet

In