Or fate enuie our happie marriage, So foone to funder vs by timeleffe death? Nur. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best frend I had, O honeft Tybalt, curteous gentleman. Iul. What ftorme is this that blowes fo contrarie, My deare loude coufen, and my dearest lord. These two being dead, then liuing is there none. Romeo that murdred him is banished. Iul. Ah heauens, did Romeos hand fhed Tybalts blood! Nur. It did, it did, alacke the daye it did. Iul. O ferpents hate, hid with a flowring face : O painted fepulcher, including filth. Was neuer booke containing fo foule matter, So fairly bound. Ah, what meant Romeo? Nur. There is no truth, no faith, no honeftie in men: All falfe, all faithles, periurde, all forfworne. Shame come to Romeo. Iul. A blister on that tung, he was not borne to shame : Vpon his face fhame is afhamde to fit. But wherefore villaine didst thou kill my coufen? Romeo is banished. Ah that word banished. Is worse than death. Romeo is banished, Is father, mother, Tybalt, Iuliet, All killd, all flaine, all dead, all banished, Where are my father and my mother nurse? Nur. Weeping and wayling ouer Tybalts coarse. Will you goe to them? Iul. I, I, when theirs are spent, Mine fhall he shed for Romeos banishment. Nur. Ladie, your Romeo will be here to night, Ile to him, he is hid at Laurence cell. Iul. Doo fo, and beare this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell. Enter Frier. Exeunt. Fr. Romeo come forth, come forth thou fearfull man, Affliction is enamourd on thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamitie. Enter Romeo. Rom. Father what newes, what is the princes doome. What forrow craues acquaintance at our hands, Which yet we know not. Fr. Too familiar Is my yong fonne with fuch fowre companie : I bring thee tidings of the princes doome. Rom. What leffe than doomes day is the princes doome? Fr. A gentler iudgement vanifht from his lips, Not bodies death, but bodies banishment. Rom. Ha, banished? be mercifull, fay death: For exile hath more terror in his lookes, Fr. Hence from Verona art thou banished: But purgatorie, torture, hell it felfe. Hence banished, is banisht from the world: And world exilde is death. Calling death banishment, And fmileft vpon the ftroke that murders me. Fr. Fr. Oh monftrous finne, O rude vnthankfulnes : And turnd that blacke word death to banishment: Rom. Tis torture and not mercie, heauen is heere Flies may doo this, but I from this must flye. No sharpe ground knife, no prefent meane of death, To torture me withall: ah, banished. O frier, the damned vfe that word in hell: Howling attends it. How hadst thou the heart, A finne abfoluer, and my frend profest, To mangle me with that word, banishment? Fr. Thou fond mad man, heare me but fpeake a word, Fr. Ile giue thee armour to beare off this word, To comfort thee though thou be banished. Valeffe philofophie can make a Juliet, Fr. Fr. O, now I fee that madmen haue no eares. Rom. How should they, when that wise men haue no eyes. Fr. Let me difpute with thee of thy estate, Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feele. Then mightft thou fpeake, then mightft thou teare thy hayre. Nurfe knockes. Fr. Romeo arife, ftand vp thou wilt be taken, I heare one knocke, arise and get thee gone. Nur. One from lady Iuliet. Fr. Then come neare. Nur. Oh holy fryer, tell mee oh holy fryer, Where is my ladies lord? Wher's Romeo? Fr. There on the ground, with his owne teares made drunke. Nur. Oh he is euen in my mistresse case. Iuft in her cafe. Oh wofull fimpathy, Weeping and blubbring, blubbring and weeping : He He rifes. Rom. Nurfe. Nur. Ah fir, ah fir. Wel deaths the end of all. Now I haue ftainde the childhood of her ioy. Nur. Oh fhe faith nothing, but weepes and pules, And Tybalt cryes, and then on Romeo calles. Rom. As if that name shot from the deadly leuel of a gun Did murder her, as that names curfed hand Murderd her kinfman. Ah tell me holy fryer In what vile part of this anatomy Doth my name lye? Tell me that I may facke He offers to ftab himselfe, and nurfe fnatches the dagger Nur. Ah? away. Fr. Hold, ftay thy hand: art thou a man? thy forme Cryes out thou art, but thy wilde actes denote The vnrefonable furyes of a beast. Vnfeemely woman in a feeming man, Or ill befeeming beaft in feeming both. I thought thy difpofition better temperd, There |