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When I thy three hours wife have mangled 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 mistaking offer up to joy.

My husband lives that Tybalt would have flain,
And Tybalt dead that would have kill'd my husband;
All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
Some word there was worfer than Tybalt's death
That murther'd me; I would forget it fain,

But oh it presses to my memory,
Like damned guilty deeds to finners minds;
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished!
That banished, that one word banished,
Hath flain ten thousand Tybalts: Tybalt's death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there:
Or if fow'r 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?
But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
Romeo is banished--to speak that word,
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All flain, all dead! Romeo is banished!
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?

Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's coarse.

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.

Nurse. Hie to your chamber, I'll find Romeo

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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 last farewel.

Fri. R

SCENE V.

The Monaftery.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.

[Exeunt

OMEO 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 forrow craves acquaintance at my hand,

d

That I yet know not?

Fri. Too familiar

Is my dear son with such fow'r company.

I bring thee tydings of the prince's doom?

Rom. What lefs 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, fay death;
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Than death it self. Do not fay 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,

dadmittance.

And

e

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

Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death, but the kind prince
Taking thy part hath rufht afide the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment.
This is meer mercy, and thou feeft 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 feize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal bleffings from her lips;
8 But Romeo may not, he is banished!

*

O father, hadst thou no ftrong poifon mixt,
No fharp ground knife, no prefent means of death,
But banishment to torture me withal?

O Friar, the damned ufe that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: how haft thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghoftly confeffor,

A fin-abfolver, and my friend profest,

• And world's exile is death. Then banished Is death mif-term'd, calling death banished. if that is dear mercy.

8 Which even in pure and veft al modefty
Still blush, and thinking their own kisses fin.
This may flies do, when I from this must fly,
And fay't thou yet, that exile is not death?
But Romeo may not, he is banished.

Hadft thou no poifon mixt, no sharp-ground knife,
No fudden mean of death, tho' ne'er fo mean,
But banished to kill me? banish ed?

O Friar, &c.

To

To mangle me with that word, banishment?
Fri. Fond mad-man, hear me fpeak.

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 fee that mad men have no ears.

Rom. How fhould they, when that wife men have no eyes?

Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy estate.

Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel:

h

Wert thou as young 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. Arife, one knocks; good Romeo hide thy self.

Thou wilt be taken

stay a while

ftand up;

[Knock within. [Knocks.

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God's will;

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[Knock.

I come, I come.

Who knocks fo 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 Nurfe.

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

has young as Juliet my love.

Where

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 cafe,

Juft in her cafe, O woful fympathy!
Piteous predicament! even fo lies fhe,

Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbering.

Why should you fall into fo deep an oh!

Rom. Nurse.

Nurfe. Ah Sir! ah Sir!

1111

Death is the end of all.

Rom. Speak'ft 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 the? and how does fhe? and what fays
My conceal'd lady to our cancell❜d love?

i

Nurfe. O fhe fays nothing, Sir, but weeps and
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 curfed hand

Murther'd her kinfman.

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.

Fri. Hold thy defperate 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 haft amaz'd me. By my holy order,
I thought thy difpofition better temper'd..
Haft thou flain Tybalt? wilt thou flay thy felf?

i conceal'd

weeps,

And

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