Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banished,

Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,
And fall upon the ground, as I do now,

Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

[Throws himself on the floor-Knocking within. Fri. L. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself. Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick groans, Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.

[Knocking within.

Fri. L. Hark, how they knock-Who's there?-Romeo,

arise;

Thou wilt be taken.-Stay awhile!-Stand up;

[Knocking within.

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

Welcome, then.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?

Fri. L. There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.

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

(83)

Fri. L.

O woful sympathy!
Piteous predicament !]

"The old copies give these words to the Nurse. One may wonder the editors did not see that such language must necessarily belong to the Friar." FARMER,-whose alteration is approved of by Steevens, Malone, Walker, &c.

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. [rising] 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 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,
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 cursèd 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.

Fri. L.

[Drawing his dagger.

Hold thy desperate hand:
Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art:
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
Th' 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 damnèd 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 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 should 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,
Mis-shapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask,
Is set a-fire 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, becomes thy friend,
And turns 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:-(84)
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 the 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,

(84) Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:-] So the quarto of 1637.-The quartos of 1599 and 1609 have "Thou puts vp thy," &c.-The undated quarto has "Thou powts upon thy," &c.-All the folios have "Thou puttest vp thy," &c.-(In the first quarto the line stands thus, "Thou frownst vpon thy Fate that smiles on thee.")

Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:

Romeo is coming.

Nurse. O Lord, I could have stay'd here ali 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 is a ring, sir, that she bade me give you :

Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

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

[Exit.

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:
Farewell.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The same. A room in CAPULET's house.

Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, and PARIS.

Cap. Things have fall'n 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.

Of

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender 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?

Par.

Monday, my lord.

Cap. Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,

O' Thursday let it be:-o' Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl.-

Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
We'll keep no great ado,-a friend or two;
For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much :

Therefore we'll have some half-a-dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.
Cap. Well, get you gone :-o' Thursday be it, then.—
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,

Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.

Farewell, my lord.-Light to my chamber, lo -
Afore me, 'tis so very late, that we

May call it early by and by :-good night.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. The same. An open gallery to JULIET's chamber, overlooking the orchard.

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