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Unless philofophy 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.
Ro. How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?
Fri. Let me dispute 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, Tybalt murdered,
Doating 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 thyself.
[Knocking within. Rom. Not I, unless the breath of heart-fick groans, Mift-like, infold me from the search of eyes. [Knock. Fri. Hark, how they knock!-(who's there?)-Romeo,
arise. Thou wilt be taken-(stay a while)-- ftand up; [Knocks. Run to my study -(By and by) ---God's will! What wiltulness is this? - I come, I come. [Knock. Who knocks so hard? whencecome you; what's your
will? Nurse. [Within.] Let me come in, and you shall know
my errand : come from lady Juliet. Fri. Welcome then.
Enter Nurse. Nurse. O holy Friar, oh, tell me, holy Friar, Where is my lady's Lord ? where's Romeo ? Fri. There, on the ground, with his own tears made
drunk. Nurse. O he is even in my mistress' case, Juft in her case, Owoful sympathy! Piteous predicament! ev'n so lies the, Blubb’ring and weeping, weeping and blubbering, Stand up, and up; Stand, an' you be a man ...
For Juliet's fake, for her fake, rise and stand.
Why Mould you fall into fo deep an oh!
Rom. 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 murderer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood, remov'd but little from her own?
Where is the ? and how does he ? and what says
My conceald lady to our cancell'd love?
'Nurse. O, she says nothing, Sir; but weeps and weeps;
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 murder her, as that name's cursed hand
Murder'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 manfion.
(Drawing bis Sword.
Fri. Hold thy desperate hand:
Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote
Th' unreasonable fury of a beaft.
Unseemly woman in a seeming man !
And ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
Thou haft amaz'd me. By my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Haft thou fain Tybalt? wilt thou hay thyself?
And slay thy lady, that in thy life lives,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why rail'lt thou on thy birth, the heav'n, and earth,
Since birth, and heav'n, and earth, all three do meet
In thee at once, which thou at once would lose
Fy, fy! thou tham'ft thy shape, thy love, thy wit,
Which, like an afurer, abound'ft in all,
And useft none in that true use indeed,
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit.
Thy noble shape is byt a form of wax,..
Digressing from the valour of a man ;
Thy dear love sworn, but hollow perjury,
Killing that love, which thou hast vow'd to cherish.
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Mif-shapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skill-less soldier's flak,
Is set on fire by thine own ignorance,
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
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 fiew'ft 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'ít upon thy fortune and thy. love.
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed
Afceud 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, '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, nurse ; commend me to thy lady,
And bid her haften all the house to bed,
Whith heavy forrow makes them apt anto.
Romeo is coming
Nurse. O Lord, I could have staid here all night long,
To hear good counsel: oh, what learning is!
My Lord, I'll tell my Lady you will come.
Rom. Do fo, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
Nurse. Here, Sir, a ring she bid ine 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 shall 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 brief to part with thee. (Exeunt.
SCENE changes to Capulet's House.
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.
Hings have fallen out, Sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our
daughter : Look
you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I.-Well, we were born to die. 'Tis very late, fhe'll not come down to-night. I promise you, but for your company, I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
Par. These times of woe afford no Madam, good night; commend me to your daughter.
La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to-morrow: To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.
Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my child's love : I think, she will be rul'd
În all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here with my lon Paris' love,
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next,
But, soft; what day is this s
Par. Monday, my Lord:
Cap. Monday? Ha! ha! well, Wednesday is too foon, On Thursday let it be: a' Thursday, tell her, She shall be married to this noble Earl. i Will you be ready? do you like this hafte? We'll keep no great a-do-afriend or twoFor, hark you, Tybalt being slain fo late, , It may be thought we held him carelesly, Being our kinsman, if we revel much :
Therefore we'll have fome half a dozen friends,
And there's an end. But what say 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, against this wedding-day. Farewel, my Lord light to my chamber, hoa! 'Fore me, it is so very late, that we May call it early by and by. Good-night. [Exeunt.
SCENE, Juliet's Chamber looking to the
Enter Romeo and Juliet, above at a window; a ladder
of ropes set.
TILT thou be gone? it is not yet near day :
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollov of thine ear;
Nightly the sings on yon poingranate tree :
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale. Look, love, what envious ítreaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east :
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountains' tops.
I must be gone and live, or flay and die.
Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it well :
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way,
Then Itay a while, thou Thalt not go fo foon.
Róm. Let me be ta’en, let me be put to death,
I am content, if thou wilt have it fo.
I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brows
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heav'ns so high above our heads.
I have more care to stay, than will to go.