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? Nurfe. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corfe. Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? mine fhall be When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. [spent, Take up thofe cords; -poor ropes, you are beguil'd, Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd. He made you for a high-way to my bed; Come, cord; come nurfe; I'll to my wedding-bed: Jul. Oh find him, give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come, to take his last farewel. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Changes to the monastery. Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo. Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity. [man ; 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 fon with fuch four company. I bring thee tidings of the Prince's doom. Rom. What less than doom's-day is the Prince's doom? Fri. A gentler judgment even'd * from his lips, Not body's death, but body's banishment. Rom. Ha, banishment! be merciful, fay, death; Much more than death. Do not say, banishment. But purgatory, Tartar, hell itself. Hence banished, is banish'd from the world; Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness ! Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind Prince, Taking thy part, hath rush'd afide the law, And turn'd that black word death to banishment. This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heav'n is here Hadft thou no poifon mix'd, no fharp ground knife, O Friar, the damned use that word in hell; A fin-abfolver, and my friend profefs'd, Rom. O thou wilt speak again of banishment. To comfort thee, tho' thou art banished. Rom. Yet banifh'd? hang up philofophy. Fri. O, then I fee that madmen have no ears. Rom. How fhould they, when that wife men have no, eyes? Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy estate. Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dolt not feel. Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murthered, Doating like me, and like me banished; [hair, Then might'ft thou fpeak, then might'ft thou tear thy [Throwing himself on the ground. Fri. Arife, one knocks; good Romeo, hide thy felf. [Knock within. Rom. Not I, unless the breath of heart-fick groans, Mift-like, infold me from the fearch of eyes. [Knock. Fri. Hark, how they knock!. Romeo, arife. Thou wilt be taken (Who's there?). (Stay a while)-stand up; [Knocks. Run to my study-(By and by) —God's will! What wilfulness is this? -1 come, I come. [Knock. Who knocks fo hard? whence come you? what's your will! Nurfe. [within.] Let me come in, and you fhall know I come from Lady Juliet. Fri. Welcome then. Enter Nurfe. [my errand : Nurfe. 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. Nurfe. O he is even in my mistress' cafe, Juft in her cafe, O woful fympathy! Piteous predicament! even fo lies she, Blubb'ring and weeping, weeping and blubbering. Rom. Nurfe! Nurfe. Ah Sir! ah Sir! E ་ Rom. Speak't thou of Juliet? how is it with her? Now I have ftain'd the childhood of our joy Nurfe. O, fhe fays nothing, Sir; but weeps and And now falls on her bed, and then ftarts up: [weeps; 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 curfed hand Doth my name lodge! tell me, that I may fack Fri. Hold thy defperate hand. [Drawing his fword. Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art. Unfeemly woman in a feeming man! By doing damned hate upon thyself; Why rail'ft thou on thy birth, the heav'n, and earth, And useft none in that true use indeed, Thy dear love fworn, but hollow perjury, Killing that love which thou haft vow'd to cherish. Mif-fhapen in the conduct of them both, And thou difmember'd with thine own defence. Which heavy forrow makes them apt unto. Nurfe. O Lord, 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. Dofo, and bid my fweet prepare to chide; Nurfe. Here, Sir, a ring the 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, paf joy, calls out on me, It were a grief, fo brief to part with thee. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Changes to Capulet's house. Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris. Cap. Things have fallen out, Sir, fo unluckily, |