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!

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?
Nurse.
No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.—
Shame come to Romeo!

Jul.

There's no trust,

Blistered be thy tongue

For such a wish! he was not born to shame :

Upon his brow Shame is ashamed to sit;

For 't is a throne where Honour may be crowned
Sole monarch of the universal earth.

O, what a beast was I to chide at him!

Nurse. Will you speak well of him that killed your cousin?

Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy

name,

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?

Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murdered me. I would forget it fain;

But, O, it presses to my memory

Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:
'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished!'
That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,'
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts.-

To speak that word, Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,

D

All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!'

There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,

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. Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled, Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled.

Nurse. Hie to your mother; 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 Laurence' cell.

Jul. O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell.

SCENE 2.-Friar LAURENCE'S Cell.

Enter Friar LAURENCE and ROMEO.

[Exeunt.

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

man:

Affliction is enamoured of thy parts,

And thou art wedded to calamity.

Rom. Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?

What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,

That I yet know not?

Fri.

Too familiar

Is my dear son with such sour company:

I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

Rom. What less than doomsday is the prince's

doom?

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 its look,

Much more, than death: do not say 'banishment.'
Fri. Here 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 banished from the world,
And world's exile is death:-then 'banished'
Is death mis-termed: calling death banishment,
Thou cutt'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 rushed aside the law,
And turned that black word death to banishment:
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy heaven is here,

Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her,

But Romeo may not, he is banished.

Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But-' banished '-to kill me? Banished'?

O friar! the damned use that word in hell;
Howling attends it: how hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend professed,

To mangle me with that word 'banished'?

Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me a little speak. 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!