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Jul. Ah me! what news! why dost thou wring thy hands?

Nurse. Ah well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!

We are undone, lady, we are undone!

Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! Jul. Can heaven be so envious?

Nurse.

Though heaven cannot:

Romeo can,

O Romeo! Romeo!

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Who ever would have thought it?- Romeo!
Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me
thus?

Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but I',
And that bare vowel I shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice:
I am not I, if there be such an I;

Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, I.
If he be slain, say-I; or if not, no:

Brief sounds determine of my weal, or woe.

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine

eyes,

'Twas here, e'en here, upon his manly breast:
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,
All in gore blood; I swoonded at the sight.
Jul. O break, my heart!-poor bankrupt, break

at once!

To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty!
Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;
And thou, and Romeo, press one heavy bier!
Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! -
O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
That ever I should live to see thee dead!

Jal. What storm is this, that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter'd; and is Tybalt dead?

9 In Shakspeare's time the affirmative particle ay was usually written I, and here it is necessary to retain the old spelling.

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My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord?
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!
For who is living, if those two are gone?

Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished.

Jul. O heaven!-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 flow'ring 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:
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 vitæ : —
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me

old.

Shame come to Romeo!

Jul.

Blister'd be thy tongue,

For such a wish! he was not born to shame :
Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit;

For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
Sole monarch of the universal earth.'

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

Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd 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? But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin 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 would have slain;
And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my

band:

hus

All this is comfort; Wherefore weep I then?
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
That murder'd me: I would forget it fain;
But, O! it presses to my memory,

Like horrid guilty deeds to sinners' minds :
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo-banished;
That banished, that one word-banished,
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there:

Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship,

And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,
Why follow'd not, when she said-Tybalt's dead,
Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,

Which modern' lamentation might have mov'd?
But, with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
Romeo is banished, to speak that word,

Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
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 be

Both you

guil'd, and I;

for Romeo is exil'd.

Nurse. Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo

To comfort you :

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I Common,

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.

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Enter Friar LAURENCE and ROMEO.

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

Affliction is enamour'd 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 dooms-day is the prince's doom?

Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, Not body's death, but body's banishment. Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful,

death:

For exile hath more terror in his look,

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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,
Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
And world's exíle is death: - then banishment
Is death mis-term'd: 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 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,

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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. More validity3,
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:
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly;
They are free men, but I am banished.

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?

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O cruel friar, how hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly cónfessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,

To mangle me with that word - banishment? 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.

3 Worth, value.

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