Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-feather'd raven ! (38) wolvish-ravening lamb! 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 :— 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 husband: 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 damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo-banishèd;" 66 That "banished," that one word "banished," Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.— Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: 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 beguil'd, He made you for a highway to my bed; But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. Come, cords; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed; Nurse. Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo Jul. O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, [Exeunt. VOL. V. L SCENE III. Friar LAURENCE's cell. Enter Friar LAURENCE. Fri. L. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man: Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity. Enter ROMEO. Rom. Father, what news? what is the prince's doom? What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, Is dear son with such sour company : my I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom. Rom. What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom? Fri. L. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,Not body's death, but body's banishment. Rom. Ha, banishment! be merciful, say-death; Rom. There is no world without Verona walls, Hence-banishèd is banish'd from the world, Fri. L. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, But Romeo may not: more validity, A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, To mangle me with that word "banished"? Fri. L. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word. Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. Fri. L. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banishèd. Rom. 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. L. O, then I see that madmen have no ears. Rom. How should they, when that wise men have no eyes? Fri. L. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. Rom. Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel: Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, [Knocking within. Fri. L. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself. Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. [Knocking. Fri. L. Hark, how they knock!-Who's there?-Romeo, arise; Thou wilt be taken.-Stay awhile!-Stand up; [Knocking. Run to my study.─By and by !—God's will, What simpleness is this!-I come, I come! [Knocking. Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will? Nurse [within]. Let me come in, and you shall know my errand; I come from Lady Juliet. Fri. L. Welcome, then. Enter Nurse. Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo? Fri. L. There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress' case, Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.— Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man: For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand; Why should you fall into so deep an O? Rom. Nurse! Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir!-Well, death's the end of all. Doth she not 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 she? and how doth she? and what says My conceal'd 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 calls; and then on Romeo cries, |