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Jul. They wafh his wounds with tears? mine shall be spent,

When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up thofe cords:-Poor ropes, you are beguil'd,
Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd:
He made you for a highway to my bed;
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
Come cords; come, nurfe; I'll to my wedding-bed;
And death, not Romeo, take my maiden-head!

Nurfe. 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.

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And steal immortal bleffings from her lips;
Who, even in pure and vestal modefty,
Still blufh, as thinking their own kisses fin:
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly;
They are free men, but I am banished.
And fay'ft thou yet, that exile is not death?
But Romeo may not; he is banished.
Hadft thou no poifon mix'd, no fharp-ground knife,
No fudden mean of death, though ne'er fo mean,
10 But-banifhed-to kill me?-banished?

O friar, the damned ufe that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: How haft thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confeffor,

A fin-abfolver, and my friend profeft, 15 To mangle me with that word-banishment? Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.

Rem. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; 20 Adverfity's fweet milk, philofophy,

To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Rom. Yet banished?-Hang up philosophy!
Unless philofophy can make a Juliet,
Difplant a town, reverse a prince's doom;
25 It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more.

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Fri. O, then I fee that madmen have no ears. Rem. How fhould they, when that wife men have no eyes?

Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy estate. Rom. Thou canst not fpeak of what thou doft not feel:

Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,

An hour but marry'd, Tybalt murdered,
Doating like me, and like me banished,

Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, 35 Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear

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groans, Mift-like, infold me from the fearch of eyes. [Knock.


Fri. Hark, how they knock!-Who's there? Romeo, arife;

Thou wilt be taken :-Stay a while :-stand up: [Knock.

Hence banished is banish'd from the world,
And world's exile is death; then banishment
Is death mif-term'd; calling death-banishment,
Thou cut'ft my head off with a golden axe,
And fmil'ft upon the stroke that murders me.
Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness! Run to my study :-By and by :- God's will!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince, 50 What wilfulness is this?—I come, I come.
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,

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Who knocks fo hard? whence come you? what's

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Nurfe. O holy friar, O tell me, holy friar,

60 Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?

Fri. There, on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.

Validity feems here to mean worth or dignity; and courtship the state of a courtier permitted to ap. proach the highest presence.


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Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering:
Stand up, ftand up; stand, an you be a man:
For Juliet's fake, for her fake, rife and stand;
Why should you fall into fo deep an O?

Rom. Nurfe!

Nurfe. Ah fir! ah fir!-death is the end of all.
Rom. Spak'ft thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth the not think me an old murderer,
Now I have ftain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood remov'd but little from her own?
Where is the? and how doth fhe? and what fays
My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?

Nurfe. O, fhe fays nothing, fir, but weeps and

And now falls on her hed; and then starts up,
And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,
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 curfed hand
Murder'd her kinfman.-O tell me, friar, tell me,
In what vile part of this anatomy

Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may fack
The hateful manfion. [Drawing bis fwerd.

Fri. Hold thy desperate hand:
Art thou a man? thy form cries out, thou art;
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
Unfermly woman, in a seeming man!
Or ill-befeeming beaft, in feeming both!!
Thou haft amaz'd me: by my holy order,
I thought thy difpofition better temper'd.
Haft thou flain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
And flay thy lady too that lives in thee,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why rail'ft thou on thy birth, the heaven, and
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do




For whofe dear fake thou waft but lately dead;
There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou flew ft Tybalt; there too art thou happy:
The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy friend,
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
A pack of bleffings light upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her beft array;
But, like a mis'hav'd and a fullen wench,
Thou pout'ft upon thy fortune and thy love:
IC Take heed, take heed, for fuch die miferable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Afcend her chamber, hence, and comfort her;
But, look, thou stay not 'till the watch be fet,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
15 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'ft forth in lamentation.-
2c Go before, nurfe: commend me to thy lady;
And bid her haften all the house to bed,
Which heavy forrow makes them apt unto:
Romeo is coming.

[night, Nurfe. O Lord, I could have ftaid here all the 25 To hear good counfel: O, what learning is!My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

Rom. Do fo, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
Nurfe. Here, fir, a ring the bid me give you,
fir :-

30 Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.
Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!
Fri. Go hence. Good night :-and here stands
all your ftate,-

Either be gone before the watch be fet,
35 Or by the break of day difguis'd from hence:
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 past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief, fo brief to part with thee:


In thee at once; which thou at once would'ft lofe.
Fie, fie! thou fham'ft thy fhape, thy love, thy wit; 45
Which, like an ufurer, abound'st in all,
And ufeft none in that true ufe indeed
Which should bedeck thy fhape, thy love, thy wit
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
Digreffing from the valour of a man:
Thy dear love, fworn, but hollow perjury,
Killing that love which thou haft vow'd to cherish.
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Mif-fhapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in the fkill-lefs foldier's flask 2,
Is fet on fire by thine own ignorance,
And thou difmember'd with thine own defence 3.
What, roufe thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,

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A Room in Capulet's Houfe.


Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris. Cap. Things have fallen out, fir, fo unluckily, That we have had no time to move our daughter: Look you, the lov'd her kinfinan Tybalt dearly, 50 And fo did I;-Well, we were born to die. Tis very late, fhe'll not come down to-night: I promife you, but for your company, I would have been a-bed an hour ago. Par. Thefe times of woe afford no time to woo: 55 Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter. [morrow; La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early toTo-night he's mew'd 5 up to her heaviness.

That is, Thou art a beaft of ill qualities, under the appearance both of a woman and a man. 2 To understand the force of this allufion, it should be remembered that the ancient English foldiers, using match-locks, instead of locks with flints as at prefent, were obliged to carry a lighted mat hanging at their belts, very near to the wooden fiafk in which they kept their powder. 3 That is, 4 The whole of your fortune depends on this. Сер

And thou torn to pieces with thy own weapons. 5 A mow was a place of confinement for hawks.

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate 1 tender
Of my child's love: I think, fhe will be rul'd
In 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 fon Paris' love;
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-
But, foft; What day is this?

Par. Monday, my lord.


[Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it fo.-
How is't, my foul? let's talk, it is not day.
Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away;
It is the lark that fings fo out of tune,

5 Straining harsh difcords, and unpleafing sharps.
Some fay, the lark makes sweet divifion 3;
This doth not fo, for the divideth us:
Some fay, the lark and loathed toad change eyes 4;
O, now I would they had chang'd voices too 5 !
10 Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up" to the day.
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light?-more dark and
dark our woes.

Cap. Monday? ha! ha! Well, Wednesday is too
O' Thursday let it be ;-o' Thursday, tell her,
She fhall be married to this noble earl :-
Will you be ready? do you like this hafte?
We'll keep no great ado;-a friend, or two:-
For hark you, Tybalt being flain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinfman, if we revel much :
Therefore we'll have fome half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what fay you to Thurf-
Par. My lord, I would that Thurfday were to-20
Cap. Well, get you gone :-
-o' Thursday be
it then :-

Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.-
Farewell, my lord.-Light to my chamber, ho!
'Fore me, it is fo very late, that we

May call it early by and by: Good night. [Exeunt.

Juliet's Chamber.

Enter Romeo, and Juliet.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly the fings on yon pomegranate tree :
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale..

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,


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Nurfe. Your lady mother's coming to your chamThe day is broke; be wary, look about.

[Exit Nurfe. Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewel, farewel! one kifs, and I'll defcend. [Romeo defcends. ful. Art thou gone fo? Love! lord! ah, huf

band! friend!

I must hear from thee every day i' the hour,
For in a minute there are many days:
O! by this count I fhall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewel! I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Jul. O, think'ft thou, we shall ever meet again?
Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes fhall

For fweet difcourfes in our time to come.

Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining foul;
Methinks, I fee thee, now thou art fo low,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb :

No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks 40 Either my eye-fight fails, or thou look'ft pale.

Do lace the fevering 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 ftay and die.

Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye fo do you? Dry forrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu!

[Exit Romeo. Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:

Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I; 45 If thou art fickle, what doft thou with him

It is fome meteor that the fun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua :
Therefore stay yet, thou need'ft not to be gone.
Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; 50

I am content, if thou wilt have it fo.
I'll fay, yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex 2 of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whofe notes do beat
The vaulty heaven fo high above our heads:
I have more care to stay, than will to go ;-

1 Defperate means only bold, advent'rous.


That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But fend him back.

La. Cap. [within.] Ho, daughter! are you up?
Jul. Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?
Is the not down fo late, or up fo early?
What unaccuftom'd caufe procures 7 her hither?
Enter Lady Capulet.

La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet ?
Jul. Madam, I am not well.

5 The

2 The appearance of a cloud opposed to the moon. 3 Divifion feems to have been the technical term for the paufes or parts of a mufical compofition. 4 The road having very fine eyes, and the lark very ugly ones, was the occafion of a common faying amongst the people, that the toad and lark had changed eyes. To this the fpeaker alludes. meaning is this: The lark, they fay, has loft her eyes to the toad, and now I would the toad had her voice too, fince fhe ufes it to the difturbance of lovers. 6 The buntjup was the name of the tune anciently played to wake the hunters, and collect them together. 7 Procures for brings.

La. Cap.

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But much of grief fhews still some want of wit.
Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.


He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
I wonder at this hafte; that I muft wed
Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I fwear
It fhall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris:-Thefe are news indeed!
La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him fo

La. Cap. So fhall you feel the lofs, but not the 10 And see how he will take it at your hands.

Which you weep for.

Jul. Feeling fo the lofs,

I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.


La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'ft not so much
for his death,

As that the villain lives which flaughter'd him.
Jul. What villain, madam?

Enter Capulet, and Nurse.

Cap. When the fun fets, the air doth drizzle dew;

But for the fun-set of my brother's fon, 15 It rains downright.

La. Cap. That fame villain, Romeo. Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder. God pardon him! I do with all my heart; And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart. La. Cap. That is, because the traitor murderer lives. [hands: Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my "Would, none but I might venge my coufin's 25 [not:


How now? a conduit, girl? what, ftill in tears?
Evermore fhowering? In one little body
Thou counterfeit'ft a bark, a sea, a wind:
For ftill thy eyes, which I may call the fea,

20 Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this falt flood; the winds, thy fighs;
Who,---raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a fudden calm, will overfet
Thy tempeft-toffed body.---How now, wife?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

La. Cap. Ay, fir; but she will none, fhe gives
you thanks:

I would, the fool were married to her grave!
Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with
you, wife.

How! will the none? doth fhe not give us thanks?
Is the not proud? doth the not count her bleft,
Unworthy as fhe is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
35 Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that
you have:

La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou
Then weep no more. I'll fend to one in Mantua,
Where that fame banish'd runagate doth live,-
That shall bestow on him so fure a draught,
That he fhall foon keep Tybalt company :
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.
Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, 'till I behold him---dead---
Is my poor heart fo for a kinfman vext :---
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it;
That Romeo fhould, upon receipt thereof,
Soon fleep in quiet.---O, how my heart abhors
To hear him nam'd,---and cannot come to him ;---40
To wreak the love I bore my coufin Tybalt,
Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him!

La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll find
fuch a man.

But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time: What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

La. Cap. Well, well, thou haft a careful fa-
ther, child;

One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath forted out a fudden day of joy,
That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for.
Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thurf-

day morn,

The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The county Paris, at Saint Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's church, and Peter too,

Proud can I never be of what I hate;
But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.
Cap. How now! how now! chop logick?---

What is this?

Proud---and, I thank you---and, I thank you not---
And yet not proud---Mistress minion, you,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
45 To go with Paris to Saint Peter's church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-fickness carrion! out, you baggage!


You tallow-face!

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I tell thee what,---get thee to church o' Thursday, 55 Or never after look me in the face:

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;
My fingers itch.---Wife, we fcarce thought us bleft,
That God hath fent us but this only child;
But now I fee this one is one too much,

1 It is remarked, that "Paris, though in one place called Earl, is moft commonly ftiled the Countie in this play. Shakspeare feems to have preferred, for fome reafon or other, the Italian comte to our count; perhaps he took it from the old English novel, from which he is faid to have taken his plot." He certainly did fo: Paris is there firft ftiled a young earle, and afterwards counte, counter, and county; according to the unfettled orthography of the time.


And that we have a surfe in having her:

Out on her, hilding!

Nurfe. God in heaven bless her !--You are to blame, my lord, to rate her fo.

Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.


Jul. O God!-0 nurfe!-how fhall this be prevented?

Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your 5 My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;


Good prudence; fmatter with your goffips, go.
Nurfe. I fpeak no treason.
Cap. O, God ye good den!

Nurfe. May not one speak?

Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool!

Utter your gravity o'er a goffip's bowl,
For here we need it not.

La. Cap. You are too hot.

How fhall that faith return again to earth,
Unless that husband fend it me from heaven
By leaving earth ?-comfort me, counfel me.-
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
10 Upon fo foft a subject as myself!—
What fay'ft thou? haft thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, nurse.

Nurfe. 'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo

Is banished; and all the world to nothing,

Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad: Day, 15 That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;

night, late, early,

At home, abroad, alone, in company,
Waking, or fleeping, ftill my care hath been
To have her match'd: and having now provided
A gentleman of princely parentage,

Of fair demeínes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
Stuff'd (as they fay) with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's thought would with a man,-
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
To answer--- I'll not wed,---I cannot love,---

I am too young,---I pray you, pardon me ;'---
But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you: [me;
Graze where you will, you fhall not house with
Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jeft.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise :
An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i'the ftreets,
For, by my foul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine fhall never do thee good:
Truft to't, bethink you, I'll not be forfworn.

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Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, fince the cafe fo ftands as now it doth,
I think it beft you married with the county.
Oh! he's a lovely gentleman!

20 Romeo's a dish-clout to him; an eagle, madam,
Hath not fo green, fo quick, fo fair an eye
As Paris hath. Befhrew my very heart,




I think you are happy in this fecond match,
For it excels your firft; or if it did not,
Your firft is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
As living here and you no use of him.

Jul. Speakeft thou from thy heart?
Nurfe. And from my foul too;

Or elfe befhrew them both.

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Jul. Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
Is it more fin-to wish me thus forfworn,
40 Or to difpraise my lord with that same tongue
Which he hath prais'd him with above compare
So many thousand times?-Go, counsellor;
Thou and my bofom henceforth fhall be twain.
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy:
45 If all elfe fail, myself have power to die. [Exit,

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Friar Lawrence's Cell.

Enter Friar Lawrence, and Paris.

N Thursday, fir? the time is very fhort. Par. My father Capulet will have it fo; And I am nothing flow, to flack his hafte.

Fri. You fay, you do not know the lady's mind; Uneven is the courfe, I like it not.

Par. Immoderately the weeps for Tybalt's death, And therefore little have I talk'd of love; For Venus fmiles not in a house of tears.


Now, fir, her father counts it dangerous,
55 That the do give her forrow so much sway;
And, in his wifdom, haftes our marriage,
To ftop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by fociety:

60 Now do you know the reafon of this hafte.

Fri. I would I knew not why it should be flow'd. [Afide.

Look, fir, here comes the lady towards my cell. Enter Juliet. 165 Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife'


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