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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,
And steal immortal blessing from her lips;
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin
But Romeo may not-he is banished:
This may flies do, when I from this must fly-
And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death ?-
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But banished'—to kill me—' banished?'
O friar, that word-how hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word- banished?'


Fri. Thou fond mad man, 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;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,

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 that thou dost not feel:

Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
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.

[Knocking within.
Fri. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.
Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick groans,
Mistlike, infold me from the search of eyes.


Fri. Hark, how they knock !-Who's there?-Romeo, arise; Thou wilt be taken.-Stay a while !-stand up ;

Run to my study.-By and by!—God's will!
What simpleness is this?—I come, I come.



Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will? Nurse. [Within.] Let me come in, and you shall know my


I come from Lady Juliet.


Welcome then.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. 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 drunk.
Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress' case,

Just in her case!


O woful sympathy!

Piteous predicament!


Even so lies she,

Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering :—
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!--Well, death's the end of all.
Rom. Spak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth not she 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 weeps ;
And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,
And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,

And then down falls again.


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.


[Draws his sword.

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 both!
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?

Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose.
Fie, fie! thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit;
Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,

And usest none in that true use indeed
Which would 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,
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask,
Is set afire by thine own ignorance,

And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
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 art thou happy too:
The law, that threaten'd death, became thy friend,
And turn'd it to exile; there art thou happy :
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best array ;
But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench,
Thou 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 stay'd here all the night,
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 : Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

[Exit Nurse.

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

Fri. Go hence; good-night; and here stands all your state; Either be gone before the watch be set,

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 :


SCENE IV.- A Room in CAPULET'S House.

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,
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 abed an hour ago.

Par. These times of woe afford no time to woo ;
Madam, good-night: commend me to your daughter.
La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;
To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.

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 of my son Paris' love;

And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next—
But, soft! what day is this?


Monday, my lord.

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