The Works of Shakespeare

Jul. What ftorm is this, that blows fo contrary!
Is Romeo flaughter'd? and is Tybalt dead?
My dear-lov'd coufin, and my dearer lord ?
Then let the trumpet found the general Doom,
For who is living, if those two are gone?

Nurfe. Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished,
Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished.

Jul. O God! did Romeo's hand fhed Tybalt's blood? Nurse. It did, it did, alas, the day! it did.

Jul. O ferpent-heart, hid with a flow'ring face! Did ever dragon keep fo fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical! Dove-feather'd raven! Wolvifh-rav'ning Lamb! (12) Defpifed fubftance, of divineft show! Juft oppofite to what thou juftly seem'ft, A damned Saint, an honourable villain! O nature! what hadft thou to do in hell, When thou didst bower the Spirit of a fiend In mortal Paradife of fuch fweet flesh? Was ever book, containing fuch vile matter, So fairly bound? O, that deceit fhould dwell In fuch a gorgeous palace!

Nurfe. There's no truft,

No faith, no honefty, in men; all perjur'd;
All, all forfworn; all naught; and all diffemblers.
Ah, where's my man? give me fome Aqua vita-
These griefs, these woes, these forrows make me old!

(12) Ravenous Dove, feather'd Raven,

Wolvih ravening Lamb.] This paffage Mr. Pope has thrown out of the Text, partly, I prefume, because these two noble Hemiftichs are, indeed, inharmonious: [But chiefly, because they are obfcure and unintelligible at the first view.] But is there no fuch Thing as a Crutch for a labouring, halting, Verse? I'll venture to restore to the Poet a Line that was certainly his, that is in his own Mode of Thinking, and truly worthy of him. The first word, ravenous, I have no Doubt, was blunderingly coin'd out of Raven and ravening, which follow; and, if we only throw it out, we gain at once an harmonious Verfe, and a proper Contraft of Epithers and Images.

Dove-feather'd Raven ! Wolvish-ravʼning Lamb'

Shame

Shame, come to Romeo!

Jul. Blifter'd be thy tongue,

For fuch a wish! he was not born to fhame;
Upon his brow fhame is afham'd to fit:
For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
Sole monarch of the univerfal earth.

O, what a beaft was I to chide him fo?

Nurfe. Will you speak well of him, that kill'd your coufin ?

^ .

husband

Jul. Shall I fpeak ill of him, that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue fhall fmooth thy name, When I, thy three-hours-wife, have mangled it! But wherefore, villain, didft thou kill my coufin? That villain coufin 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 wo have liain ; And Tybalts dead, that would have kill'd my 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 preffes 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 the faid Tybalt'dead, Thy Father or thy Mother, nay, or both But with a rear-ward following Tybalt death, Romeo is banished-to fpeak that word, Is, father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All flain, all dead!Romeo isanished! There is no end, no limit, meare, bound, In that word's death; no wors can that woe found. Where is my father, and m/mother,_nurse?

Nurfe. Weeping and wing over Tybalt's coatre,

Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? mine fhall be
spent,

When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those Cords;
Both You and I; for Romeo is exil'd.
He made You for a high-way to my Bed:
But I, a maid, dye Maiden widowed.

poor Ropes, you are beguil'd;

Come, Cord; 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. Oh find him, give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come, to take his last farewel.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Monaftery.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.

Fri. ROMEO, come forth; come forth, thou fearful

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 my der fon with fuch fow'r company.
I bring the tidings of the Prince's doom.

Ron. What lefs than dooms-day is the Prince's doom?
Fri. A gerler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
Not body's death, but body's banishment.

Rom. Ha, banrhment! be merciful, fay, death;
For exile hath mor、 terror in his look,
Much more than death. Do not fay, banishment,
Fri. Here from Verna art thou banished;
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Pom. There is no world without Verona's wails,

But

But purgatory, torture, hell it felf..
Hence banished, is banish'd from the world;
And world-exil'd, is death. That banished
Is death mif-term'd calling death banishment,
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden ax,
And fmilft 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 dear 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 ftate, 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; (Which even in pure and veftal modesty Still blufh, as thinking their own kiffes fin.) This may flies do, when I from this must fly; (And fay'ft thou yet, that exile is not death ?) But Romeo may not; he is banished. Hadft thou no Poifon mixt, no fharp-ground knife, No fudden mean of death, tho' 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. Fond mad-man, hear me speak.
Rom. O, thou wilt fpeak again of banishment.
Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word,
Adverfity's fweet milk, philofophy,
To comfort thee, tho' 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 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 fpeak of what thou doft not feel : Wert thou as young as 1, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murthered, Doating like me, and like me banished; Then might'ft thou fpeak, then might'ft 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 felf.
[Knock within.
Rom. Not I, unless the breath of heart-fick Groans,
Mift-like, infold me from the Search of Eyes. [Knock.
Fri. Hark, how they knock !-(who's there?)- Ro-

(ftay a while).

meo, arise.

Thou wilt be taken

stand up;

[Knocks. God's will!

(By and by)

I come, I come. [Knock. Who knocks fo hard? whence come you; what's your

will?

Run to my Study-
What willfulness is this?