Jul. I'faith, I am sorry that thou art not well: Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?

Nurse. Your love says like an honest gentleman,
Aad a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,
And, I warrant, a virtuous:-Where is your mother?
Jul. Where is my mother?-why, she is within;
Where should she be? How oddly thou reply'st!
Your love says like an honest gentleman,―
Where is your mother?

Nurse.

O, God's lady dear!
Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow;
Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.
Jul. Here's such a coil,'-come, what says Ro-

meo?

Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?
Jul. I have.

Nurse. Then hie you hence to friar Laurence' cell,
There stays a husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
Hie you to church; I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb a bird's nest soon, when it is dark:
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight;
But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.

SCENE VI.-Friar Laurence's cell.
Friar Laurence and Romeo.

Fri. So smile the heavens upon this holy act,
That after hours with sorrow chide us not!

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make
short work;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
Till holy church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt

ACT III.

SCENE I-A public place. Enter Mercutio,
Benvolio, Page, and Servants.

Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire:
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,

And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl;
For now, these hot days is the mad blood stirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps ne his sword upon the table, and says, God send me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indecd, there is no need.

Ben. Am I like such a fellow?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.

Ben. And what to?

Jul. Hie to high fortune!-honest nurse, fare-
Mer. Nay, and there were two such, we should
well.
[Exeunt.
have none shortly, for one would kill the other.
Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath
Enter a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard than thou
hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking
nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast
hazel eyes; What eye, but such an eye, would spy
as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath
out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels,
been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling.
Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in
the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that
hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out
with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before
Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with
old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quar-
relling!

Rom. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That one short minute gives me in her sight:
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
Then love-devouring death do what he dare.
It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume: The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite:
Therefore, love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady :-O, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
A lover may bestride the gossamers?
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.

Fri. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.

Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too much.

Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:

They are but beggars that can count their worth:
But my true love is grown to such excess,
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.

Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

Mer. The fee-simple? O simple!

Enter Tybalt, and others.

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.
Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple
it with something; make it a word and a blow.
Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir,
if you will give me occasion.

Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving?

Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo,Mer. Consort? what, dost thou make us minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort

Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men ;
Either withdraw into some private place,
Or reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let
them gaze;

I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

(3) Paint, display. (4) Imagination.

Enter Romeo.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir; here comes my man.

Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your
livery:

Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;
Your worship, in that sense, may call him-man.

Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee, can afford
No better term than this-Thou art a villain.

Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love
thee

Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting:-Villain am I none;
Therefore farewell; I see, thou know'st me not.
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw.
Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee;
But love thee better than thou canst devise,
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:
And so, good Capulet,-which name I tender
As dearly as mine own,-be satisfied.

[Draws.

Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
A la stoccata' carries it away.
Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

And in my temper soften'd valour's steel.
Re-enter Benvolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead;
That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Rom. This day's black fate on more days doth
depend;

This but begins the wo, others must end.

Re-enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Rom. Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio slain'
Away to heaven, respective lenity,

And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now!—
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'st me; for Mercutio's soul
Is but a littte way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company;
Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort'
him here,
Shalt with him hence.
Rom.

This shall determine that.
[They fight; Tybalt falls.
Ben. Romeo, away, be gone!
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain:
Stand not amaz'd:-the prince will doom thee
death,

Tyb. What would'st thou have with me? Mer. Good king of cats, nothing, but one of your aine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about If thou art taken:-hence !-be gone!-away! your ears ere it be out.

Tyb. I am for you.

[Drawing.

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mer. Come, sir, your passado. [They fight.
Rom. Draw, Benvolio;

Beat down their weapons:-Gentlemen, for shame
Forbear this outrage;-Tybalt-Mercutio-
The prince expressly hath forbid this bandying
In Verona streets :-Hold, Tybalt;-good Mercutio.
[Exeunt Tybalt and his Partizans.

Mer. I am hurt :-
A plague o'both the houses!-I am sped
Is he gone, and hath nothing?
Ben.

Rom. O! I am fortune's fool!
Ben.

Why dost thou stay? [Exit Romeo. Enter Citizens, &c.

What, art thou hurt? Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.Where is my page ?-go, villain, fetch a surgeon. [Exu Page. Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask Unhappy sight! ah me, the blood is spill'd for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave Of my dear kinsman!-Prince, as thou art true,* man. I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world :-For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.— A plague o'both your houses?-Zounds, a dog, a O cousin, cousin!

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all
The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:
There lies the man slain by young Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin!-O my brother's child!

Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did

rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book. of arithmetic!-Why, the devil, came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.

Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint-A plague o'both your houses!
They have made worm's meat of me :
I have it, and soundly too:-Your houses!

[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio.
Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
My very friend hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd

With Tybalt's slander, Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my kinsman :-O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,

(1) The Italian term for a thrust or stab with a
rapier.
(2) Case or scabbard.

slay;

Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
How nice' the quarrel was, and urg'd withal
Your high displeasure:-All this-uttered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly
bow'd,-

Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast;
Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point.
And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
Cold death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it: Romeo, he cries aloud,

(3) Cool, considerate gentleness.
(4) Conduct for conductor. (5) Accompany
(6) Just and upright. (7) Slight, unimportant.

Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than Not yet enjoy'd: So tedious is this day,

No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.-

Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vita:-What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. That 1 yet know not?
Shame come to Romeo!
Fri.

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 wo,
Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.

My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my hus-
band:

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-banished;

That-banished, that one word-banished,

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-banisment.
Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Rom. There is no world without Verona wans,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
And world's exile is death:-then banishment
Is death mis-term'd: calling death-banishment,
Thou cut'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; and every cat, and dog,
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven, and may look on her,

Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death But Romeo may not.-More validity,*

Was wo enough, if it had ended there:

Or, if sour wo delights in fellowship,
And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,-
Why follow'd not, when she said-Tybalt's dead,
Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
Which modern lamentation might have mov'd?
But, with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
Romeo is banished,-to speak that word,

Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All slain, all dead:-Romeo is banished,--
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,

More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies, than Romeo: they may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal blessing from her lips;
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
But Romeo may not; he is banished:
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly;
They are free men, but I am banished.
And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death?
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,

In that word's death; no words can that wo No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,

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 spent,

When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those 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, nurse; I'll to my wedding bed;
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!

Nurse. Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo
To comfort-you-wot' well where he is.
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night;
I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.

[Exe. Enter

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.
Friar Laurence and Romeo.
Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou
ful man;

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 sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word-banishment?
Fri. Thou fond madman, hear me but speak a

word.

Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost
not feel:

fear-Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banished,

(1) i. e. Is worse than the loss of ten thousand Tybalts.

(2) Common (3) Know. (4) Worth, value.

Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet

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.
[Knocking within.
Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick

groans,

Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.

Romeo, arise;

Thou wilt be taken :-Stay a while: stand up;

[Knocking.

In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose.
Fie, fie! thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit
Which, like an usurer, abound'st in all,
And usest none in that true use indeed
Which should bedeck thy shape, 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,
[Knocking. Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish
Fri. Hark, how they knock!-Who's there?-Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Mis-shapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skill-less soldier's flask,
Is set on fire by thine own ignorance,
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.'
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead,
There art thou happy : Tybalt would k Il thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too
The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy friend,
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a mis-behav'd and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st 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 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

Run to my study :-By and by :-God's will!
What wilfulness 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.

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 made drunk.

Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress' case, Just in her case!

Fri.

Piteous predicament!

Nurse.

O woful sympathy!

Even so lies she,

tears

Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubber-Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.

Nurse. Ah sir! ah sir!-Well, death's the end
of all.

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 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,
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.
[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
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
Unseemly woman, in a seeming man!
Or ill-beseeming beast, in seeming both!
'Chou hast amaz'd me: by my holy order,

I thought thy disposition better temper'd.

Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
And slay thy lady too that lives in thee,
Br doing damned hate upon thyself?

Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?

(1) Torn to pieces with thine own weapons.

VOL. 11.

Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
Romeo is coming.

Nurse. O Lord, 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 al your state;2

Either be gone 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."
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV-A room in Capulet's house. En-
ter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.
Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our daughter.
Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I;-Well, we were born to die.-
'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night:
I promise you, but for your company,

I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
Par. These times of wo afford no time to woo
Madam, good night: commend me to your daugh

ter.

(2) The whole of your fortune depends on this 3 S