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There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
In that word's death ; no words can that woe sound,
Where is my father, and my mother, nurse ?

Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse.
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.

Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? mine shall be
When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. [spent,
Take up those cords ; poor ropes, you are beguild,
Both you and I; for Romeo is exild,
He made you for a high-way to my bed;
But I, a maid, die maiden widowed.
Come, cord; come nurse ; l'll to my wedding bed :
And death, not Romeo, take my

maidenhead!
Nuise. 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. 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 AMiction is enamour'd of thy parts,

[nan; And thou art wedded to calamity.

Rom. Father, what news ? what is the Prince's doom? Wbat sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not ?

Fri. Too familiar Is my dear fon with such sour 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;
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than deatb. Do not say, banishment.

Fri. Here from Verona art chou banished.
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Rom. There is no world without Verona's walls,

1, c. came equitably from his lips.

But purgatory, Tartar, hell itself.
Hence banished, is banish'd from the world ;
And world-exil’d, is death, That banished
Is death mistermed; calling death banishment,
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden ax,
And smil'lt upon the stroke that murthers me.

Fri. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind Prince,
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banilhment.
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy : heav'n is here
Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog,
A little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Lives here in heaven, and may look on her;
But Romeo may not.

More validity,
More honourable ftate, more courtship lives
In carrion-flies, than Romeo ; they may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal blessings from her lips;
(Which even in pure and vestal modelty
Štill blush, as thinking their own kiffes lin).
This

may flies do, when I from this must fly; (And say'st thou get, that exile is not death ?). But Romeo may not;--he is banished. Hadit thou no poison mix’d, no sharp ground knife, No sudden mean of death, tho' ne'er so mean, But banished to kill me ? banished ! o Friar, the damned use that word in hell ; Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A fin-absolver, and my friend profess’d, To mangle me with that word, banishment !

Fri. Fond madman, hear me speak.
Rom. O thou wilt tpeak again of banishment.

Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;
Adversity's sweet milk; philotophy,
To comfort thee, tho’thou art banished.

Rom. Yet hanithid ? hang up philofophy.
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 madmen have no ears.
Rom. 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 doit not feel. Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murthered, Doating like me, and like me banished; Then might'it thou speak, then might'st thou tear thy And fall

upon the ground as I do now, [hair, Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

[Throwing himself on the ground, Fri. Arise, one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.

Knock within. Rom. Not I, unless the breath of heart-lick groans, Mist-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)- stand up;

[Knocks. Run to my study—(By and by) -God's will ! What wilfulness is this?

I come, 1 come. [Knock. Who knocks so hard? whence come you ? what's your

will ! Nurse. [within.] Let me come in, and you shall know I come from Lady Juliet.

[rmy errand : Fri. Welcome then.

Enter Nurfe.
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 cwn tears made

drunk,
Nurse. O he is even in my mistress case,
Just in her cafe, O woful fympathy!
Piteous predicament! even so lies The,
Blubb’ring and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
Stand up, stand up ;-

--Stand, an' you be a man:
For Juliet's sake, for her fake, rise and stand.
Why should

you

fall into so deep an Oh!. Rom. Nurse! Nurse. Ah Sir! ah Sir!--- Death is the end of all. VOL. VIII.

E

Rom. Speak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her ?
Doth not the think me an old murtherer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood, remov'd but little from her own?
Where is she? and how does she ? and what lays
My conseald lady to our cancell'd love ?

Nurse. O, she fays nothing, Sir; but weeps and
And now falls on her bed, and then starts 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 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 fack
The hateful mansion,

[Drawing his sword.
Fri. Hold thy desperate hand.
Art thou a man ? thy form cries out thou art.
Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote
Th’unreasonable fury of a beast
Unleemly woman in a seeming man!
An ill-beleeming beast in seeming growth!
Thou hast ainaz'd me. By my holy order,
I thought thy difpofition better temper'd.
Halt thou Nain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
And flay 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 earılı, all three so meet,
In thee atone; which thou at once would'st lose ?
Fie! fie ! thou sham'ít thy shape, thy love, thy wit,
Which, like an ofurer, abound'et in all,
And usest none in that true use indeed,
Which should bececk thy fhape, thy love, thy wit,
Thy noble shape is but 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'u to cherish.
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Mil-shapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skill-leis Toidier's flask,
Is set on fire by thine own ignorance,

And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
What roule thee ; man, thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear fake thou waft but lately dead :
There art thou happy Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou flew'st Tybale; there thou’rt happy too.
The law that threat'ned death, became thy friend,
And turn'd it to exile; there art thou happy;
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
A pack of bleflings light upon thy back.
But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench,
1 hou pout'lt 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 warch be set ;
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 the Prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy,
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.
Go before, Nurse; commend me to thy Lady,
And bid her haften all the house to bed,
Which heavy forrow makes them apt unto.
Romeo is coming.

Nurfe. O Lord, I could have said here all night long
To hear good counsel: oh, what learning is!
My Lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
Rom. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide;

Nurse. Here, Sir, a ring she bid me give you, Sir, Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this !

Fri. Sojourn in Mantua ; 1'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, pat joy, calls out on me,
It were a grief, fo brief to part with thee. [Excunt.
SCENE VI. Glanges to Capulet's house.

Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.
Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily,

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