« AnteriorContinua »
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 killd 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 sain, And Tybalt's dead that would have killd my husband ; All this is comfort ; wherefore weep I then? Some word there was worser than Tybalt's death, That murther'd me; I would forget it fain, But, oh! 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 sain ten thousand Tybalts": Tybali's death Was woe enough, if it had ended there : Or if sow'r 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? But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, Romeo is banished to speak that word, Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All nain, all dead: -Romeo is banished! There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that word's death ; no words can that woe found. Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?
Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalts coarse. 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.
Nurse. Hie to your chamber, 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 Lawrence' cell. Jul. O find him, give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come, to take his laft farewel. (Exeunt.
Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo. Fri. OMEO, come forth; come forth, thou fearful
Amiction is enamour'd of thy parts, (man ;
And thou art wedded to calamity.
Rom. Father, what news? what is the Prince's doom?
What forrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?
Fri. Too familiar
Is my dear son with such sow'r 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 banilhment.
Rom. Ha, banishment ! be merciful, fay death ;
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Than death it self. Do not fay banishment.
Fri. 4 Hence from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Rom. There is no world without Verona's walls,
But purgatory, 5'torturing hell it self.'
Hence banished, is banish'd from the world ;
And world-exild, is death. O'Then banishment'
Is death mif-term'd: calling death banishment
Thou cut'lt my head off with a golden ax,
And smil'lt upon the stroak that murthers me.
Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death, but the kind Prince
Taking 5 torture, hell it felf. 6 That binished
Taking thy part hath rush'd aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment.
This is meer mercy, and thou feeft it not.
Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy : heav'n is here
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
And little mouse,' every unworthy thing
Lives here in heaven, and may look on her,
But Romeo may not.
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion Aies, than Romeo : they may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And Real immortal blesings from her lips ;
But Romeo may not, he is banished.
? O father, hadst thou no strong poison mixt,
No sharp-ground knife, no present means of death,
But banishment to torture me withal ?
O Friar, the damned use that word in hell;
Howlings attend it : how hast thou the heart,
Being a Divine, a ghostly Confeffor,
A sin-absolver, and my friend profest,
To mangle me with that word banishment?
Fri. Fond mad-man, hear me speak.
Rom. O thou wilt speak again of banishment.
Fri. I'll give thee armour to bear off that word,
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, tho' thou art banished.
Roin. Yet, banished ? hang up philosophy :
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a Prince's doom,
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more
Fri. O then I see that mad-men have no ears. [eyes?
Rom. How should they, when that wise men have no
Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel : Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An 7 Had's thou no poison mixt, nor harp ground knife, No fudden mean of death, tho' ne'er so mean But baniihed to kill me? banished.
An hour but married, Tybalt murthered,
Doting like me, and like me banished
Then might'st thou speak, then might'st 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. Arise, one knocks ; good Romeo, hide thy self.
[Knock within Thou wilt be taken-stay a while-stand up; [Knock. Run to my study-By and by-God's will! What wilfulness is this I come, I come. [Knock. Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?
Nurse. [Witbin.] Let me come in, and you shall know
I come from Lady Juliet.
Fri, Welcome then.
Nurse. 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
Nurse. O he is even in my mistress' case,
Just in her case, O woful sympathy!
Piteous predicament! even so lyes she,
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
Stand up, stand up; stand an you be a man :
For Juliet's fake, for her fake rise and stand :
Why should you fall into so deep 8/an-
Rom. 9'Oh Nurse!
Nurse. Ah Sir, ah Sir! Death is the end of all.
Rom. Speak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth not she think me an old murtherer,
Now I have staind the child-hood of our joy
With blood remov'd but little from her own?
Where is she? and how does she? and what says
My conceald Lady to our cancell'd love?
Nurse. O she says nothing, Sir, but weeps and weeps,
And 8 an oh!
And now falls on her bed, and then starts up,
And Tybalt 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 murther her, as that name's cursed hand
Murther'd her kinsman. 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. Hold thy desperate hand :
Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art :
Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts do note
Th' unreasonable fury of a beast.
Thou hast amaz'd me. By my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou Nain Tybalt? wilt thou say thy self?
And Nay chy. Lady too, that lives in thee?
What, rouse thee, man, thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear fake thou wast but lately dead:
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou New'st Tybalt; there thou’rt happy too.
The law that threatned death became thy friend,
And turn'd it to exile; there art thou happy.
A pack of blessings light upon thy back,
Happiness courts thee in her best array,
But, like a misbehav'd and fullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love.
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 fet,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua,
Where thou shalt live, 'cill we can find a time
To blaze our 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.