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To comfort you: I wot well where he is.
I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.

Jul. O find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell.

SCENE III.-Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter Friar LAURENCE, and ROMEO.

Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man:
Affliction is enamor'd of thy parts,

And thou art wedded to calamity.

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

Fri.

Too familiar

Is

my dear son with such sour company; I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

Rom. What less than doomsday is the prince's doom?

Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, Not body's death, but body's banishment.

Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say-death: For exile hath more terror in his look,

Much more than death: do not say-banishment.
'Tis death mis-term'd: calling death-banishment,
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders 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 banishment:
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here Where Juliet lives.

Oh Father! how hast thou the heart,

Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word-banishment?

Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.
Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
Fri. I'll give thee armor to keep off that word;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

.

Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel: Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,

[Exeunt

Rom. Yet banished?-Hang up philosophy! Unless philosophy can make a Juliet.

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.

In hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting 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.

Fri. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.

Fri.
Piteous predicament!

Nurse.

Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick groans, Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.

[Knocking.

Fri. Hark, how they knock!-Who's there?-Romeo, arise; Thou wilt be taken :-Stay awhile :-stand up; What wilfulness is this ?-I come, I come. Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will. Nurse. [Within.] Let me come in, and you shall know my erI come from my lady Juliet.

[rand.

Fri.

Welcome then.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. O holy friar; O, 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,
Just in her case!

O woful sympathy!

Even so lies she.

Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man:
For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise.

Rom. Spak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth she not think me an old murderer,

Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood?

[Knocking within.

Where is she? how doth she? and what says she?
Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and
And now falls on her bed; 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 cursed hand
Murder'd her kinsman.-O tell me, friar, tell me,
In what vile part of this anatomy
Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion.

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.
Thou hast amaz'd me: by my holy order,

[Knocking. Knocking.

weeps ;

[Draws his sword.

I thought thy disposition better temper❜d.
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
And slay thy lady too that lives in thee?
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her;
But, look, thou stay not till the watch 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 hasten all the house to rest.
Romeo is coming.

Nurse. O, I could have staid here all the night, To hear good counsel: O, 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.

[Exit Nurse

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

Fri. Go hence: Good night; and here stands all your state;
Either begone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence:
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he shall signify from time to time
Every good hap to you, that chances here:
Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.

Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me, It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell.

SCENE V.-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 she sings on yon pomegranate tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops;
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:

[Exeunt.

It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua :
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.

Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care to stay than will to go;-
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.-
How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.

Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away;
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.

Rom. More light and light ?-more dark and dark our woes.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. Madam!

Jul. Nurse?

Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your chamber. [Ex. Nurse. Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.

Jul. Art thou gone so ? my love! my lord!
I must hear from thee every day i' the hour,
For in a minute there are many days:
O! by this count I shall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

Jul. Ó, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again? Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come.

[ROMEO descends. my friend!

Jul. O Heaven! I have an ill-divining soul;
Methinks, I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb;
Either my eye-sight fails, or thou look'st pale.

Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye, so do you:
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu!

Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle :
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.

[Exit ROMEO.

ACT IV.

Capulet determines to marry Juliet, immediately, to the County Paris; she implores het parents in vain, to defer the match,-distracted at the thought of being compelled to marry a second husband while Romeo is yet living, she consults Friar Laurence in her extremity.

SCENE I.-Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter Friar LAURENCE, and PARIS.

Fri. On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
Par. My father Capulet will have it so;
And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste.

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

Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous,
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway;
And, in his wisdom, hastes our marriage,
To stop the inundation of her tears;
Which, too much minded by herself alone,
May be put from her by society:
Now, do you know the reason of this haste?

Fri. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

Enter JULIET.

Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife!
Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.

Par. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday next.
Jul. What must be, shall be.

Fri.

That's a certain text.
Par. Come you to make confession to this father?
Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you.
Are you at leisure, holy father, now;

Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

Fri. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now :— My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

Par. Heaven shield, I should disturb devotion! Juliet, farewell.

Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me: Past hope, past cure, past help!
Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
It strains me past the compass of my wits :
I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it,
On Thursday next be married to this county.

Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:

[Aside,

[Exit PARIS

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