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Fri. Too familiar

Is my dear fon with fuch four company,

I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

Rom. What lefs than death can be 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, fay death; For exile hath more terror in his look,

Much more than death: Do not say banishment;
'Tis death mif-term'd calling death banishment;
Thou cut'ft my head off with a golden ax,
And fmil'ft upon the ftroke that murders me.

Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness !
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
Taking thy part hath pufh'd 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. There's more felicity
In carrion-flies, than Romeo: they may feize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal hleffings from her lips;
But Romeo may not, he is banifhed!

O father, hadft thou no ftrong poifon mixt,
No fharp-ground knife, no present means of death,
But banifirment to torture me withal.

Fri. Fond mad-man, hear me fpeak,
I'll give thee armour to bear off that word,
Adverfity's fweet milk, philofophy,
To comfort thee tho' thou art banished.
Rom. Yet, banished ? hang up philosophy:

Unless philofophy can make a Juliet,
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more

Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy estate.

Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou doft not feel:

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

Then might'ft thou speak, 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.

Fri. Arife, one knocks; good Romeo hide thyself.

[Knock within. Rom. Not I, unless the breath of heart-fick groans, Mift-like, infold me from the fearch of eyes.

Fri. Hark how they knock

Who's there?

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Romeo, arife.

Thou wilt be taken-ftay a while-ftand up; (Knocks. Run to my ftudy By and by God's will; What wilfulness is this!-I come, I come. [Knock. Who knocks fo hard? whence come you? what's your will? Nurf. [within ] Let me come in, and you fhall know my errand:

I come from lady Juliet.

Fri. Welcome then.

Enter Nurfe.

Nurfe. O holy Friar, oh tell me, holy Friar, Where is my lady's lord? where's Romeo?

[drunk.

Fri. There, on the ground, with his own tears made Nurfe. O he is even in my miftrefs's cafe,

Juft in her cafe: O Juliet, Juliet!

Rom. Speak't thou of Juliet! how is it with her? Since I have ftain'd the childhood of our joy

With blood,

Where is the ? how does fhe? what fays fhe?

Nurfe. O, the fays nothing, Sir, but weeps and weeps; And now falls on her bed, and then farts up,

And Tibalt cries, and then on Romeo calls,
And then down falls again.

Rom. As if that name

Shot from the deadly level of a gun

Did murder her. Oh tell me, Friar, tell me,

In what vile part of this anatomy

Doth my name lodge ? tell me, that I may
The hateful manfion.

Fri. Hold thy defperate hand:

fack

Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art;
Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts note
Th' unreasonable fury of a beast.

Thou haft amaz'd me. By my holy order,
I thought thy difpofition better-temper'd.
Haft thou flain Tibalt ? wilt thou flay thyfelf?
And flay thy lady too, that lives in thee?

What,

What, rouze thee, man, thy Juliet is alive,
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed;
Afcend her chamber, hence and çomfort her:
But look thou ftay not 'till the watch be fet,
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 thy prince, and call thee back.
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy,
Than thou went'ft forth in lamentation.
Go before, nurfe; commend me to thy lady,
And bid her haften all the house to reít,
Romeo is coming.

Nurfe. Olord, I could have ftaid here all night long
To hear good counfel; oh, what learning is!
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

Rom. Do fo, and bid my fweet prepare to chide.
Nurfe. Here, Sir, a ring fhe bid me give you, Sir:
Hie you, make hafte, for it grows very late.
Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!
Fri. Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he fhall fignify from time to time
Every good hap to you that chances here:
Give me thy hand, 'tis late, farewel, good night.
Rom. But that a joy, paft joy, calls out on me.
It were a grief, fo foon to part with thee.

Cap. T1
TH

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[Exeunt.

Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.
Hings have fall'n out, Sir, fo unluckily
That we have had no time to move our
daughter:

Look you, the lov'd her kinfman Tibalt dearly,
And fo did I-Well, we were born to die.

'Tis very late, fhe'll not come down to night.

Par. Thefe times of grief afford no time to woo : Madam, good night, commend me to your daughter. Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a defperate tender Of my child's love: I think fhe will be rul'd

In

In all refpects by me, nay more, I doubt it not.
But, foft; what day? Well, Wednesday is too foon,
On Thursday (let it be :) you fhall be marry'd.
We'll keep no great ado-

-a friend or two

For, hark you, Tibalt being flain fo late,
It may be thought we held him carelefly,
Being our kinfman, if we revel much:

Therefore we'll have fome half a dozen friends,
And there's an end. But what fay you to Thursday?
Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.
Cap. Well, get you gone on Thursday be it then:
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed: [To lady Cap.
Prepare her, wife, againft this wedding-day.
Farewel, my lord-light to my chamber, hoa!

Good-night.

SCENE

The Garden.

[Exeunt.

VII.

Enter Romeo and Juliet above at a window; a ladder

Jul. W

of Ropes fet.

ILT 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 fhe fings on you 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 ftreaks
Do lace the fevering clouds in yonder eaft:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops,
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light it not day-light, I know it well;
It is fome meteor that the fun exhales,
To be this night a torch-bearer,

And light thee on thy way to Mantua;
Then stay a while, thou shalt not go fo foon.
Rom. Let me be ta'en; let me be put to death,
I am content, if thou wilt have it fo.
I'll fay yon gray is not the morning eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow,

I'll

I'll fay, 'tis not the Lark whofe notes do beat,
The vaulty heav'ns fo high above our heads;
Come death and welcome: Juliet wills it fo.
What fays my love? let's talk, it is not day.
Jul. It is, it is, hie hence away, be gone;
It is the Lark that fings fo out of tune,
Straining harsh difcords, and unpleafing fharps.
O now be gone, more light and light it grows.

Rom. More light and light ?---more dark and dark our Farewel, my love: one kifs, and I'll be gone.

Nurse. Madam.

Jul. Nurfe.

Enter Nurfe.

[woes.

Nurfe. Your lady mother's coming to your chamber: The day is broke, be wary, look about.

Jul.Art thou gone fo? love! lord! ah husband, friend! I must hear from thee ev'ry day in th' hour,

For in love's hours there are many days.

O by this count I fhall be much in

Ere I again behold my Romeo.

years,

Rom. Farewel: I will omit no opportunity, That may convey my greetings to thee, love. Jul. O think'st thou we fhall ever meet again? Rom, I doubt it not, and all these woes fhall ferve For fweet discourses, in our time to come.

Jul. O heav'n! I have an ill-divining foul, Methinks I fee thee, now thou'rt parting from me, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb!

fo do you:

Either my eye-fight fails, or thou look'st pale.
Rom. And truft me, love, in mine eye
Dry forrow drinks our blood. Adieu !
My life, my love, my foul. Adieu ?

Jul. 0°

SCENE

Juliet's Chamber.

Enter Juliet.

[Exeunt.

VIII.

O fortune, fortune, all men call thee fickle.
If thou art fickle, what doft thou with him

That is renown'd for faith? be fickle, fortune :

For

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