That all the world will be in love with night, Enter Nurse, with cords. And she brings news; and ev'ry tongue, that speaks That Romeo bade thee fetch? Ay, ay, the cords. [Throws them down. Jul. Ah me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands? This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, I. God save the mark!-here on his manly breast: To prison, eyes; ne'er look on liberty: Jul. What storm is this that blows so contrary? Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished: Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished. Jul. O God!-did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did. Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of divinest show! Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st; A damned saint, an honourable villain!O, nature! what hadst thou to do in hell, When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?Was ever book containing such vile matter, So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace! Nurse. There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.Ah! where's my man? give me some aqua vita:These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. Shame come to Romeo! When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it ?— My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband: All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? In that word's death; no words can that woe sound. Where is my father, and my mother, nurse? Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: 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 Jul. O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-Friar LAURENCE's Cell. Enter Friar LAURENCE and ROMEO. Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fear ful man: Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, Rom. Father, what news? what is the prince's doom? What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, Is my dear son with such sour company : Fri. A gentler judgment vanished 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, Much more than death: do not say-banishment. Fri. Hence 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, banished Is death mis-term'd:-calling death-banishment, Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe, And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me. Fri. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince, 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 here, O friar! the damned use that word in hell; A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, Rom. O! thou wilt speak again of banishment. Rom. Yet banished ?-Hang up philosophy: Fri. O then I see that madmen have no ears. Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. not feel. Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Fri. Arise; one knocks: good Romeo, hide thyself. [Knocking within. Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick groans, Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. [Knocking. Fri. Hark, how they knock!—Who's there?— Thou wilt be taken.-Stay a while.-Stand up; [Knocking. 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. 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 weeps; And now falls on her bed; and then starts up, 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. 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 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, By doing damned hate upon thyself? 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 would'st lose. Fie, fie! thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit, Which, like an usurer, abound'st in all, And usest none in that true use indeed Thy dear love, sworn, but hollow perjury, And thou dismember'd with thine own defence. Nurse. O Lord! I could have stay'd here all the night, To hear good counsel: O, what learning is!— 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, [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-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, 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 daughter. La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to morrow; To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness. SCENE V.-Loggia, or Balcony of JULIET'S Chamber. Enter ROMEO and JULIET. Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree. Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops: I must be gone and live, or stay and die. 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 to be gone. Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; 1 am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye, Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat Jul. It is, it is; hie hence, be gone, away! Methinks, I see thee, now thou art so low, La. Cap. [Within.] Ho! daughter, are you up? La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet? |