Scene III.

Friar Laurence's Cell

Enter Friar Laurence

Friar Laurence. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou [fearful] man.

Affliction is enamour'd of thy [parts],

And thou art wedded to calamity.

Enter Romeo

Romeo. Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?

What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,

That I yet know not?

Friar Laurence. Too [familiar]

Is my dear son with such [sour company];

I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

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

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Friar Laurence. A gentler judgment [vanish'd] from his lips,

Not body's death, but body's banishment.

Romeo. Ha, banishment! be merciful, say death,

For exile hath more terror in his look,

Much more than death; do not say banishment.

Friar Laurence. Hence from Verona art thou banished;

Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Romeo. There is no world without Verona walls,

But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence banished is banish'd from the world,

And world's [exile] is death. Then banished

Is death misterm'd; calling death banishment

Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,

And smil'st upon the stroke that murthers me.

Friar Laurence. 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.

Romeo. '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,

But Romeo may not. More [validity],

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.

This may flies do, 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,

No sudden [mean] of death, though ne'er so mean,

But 'banished' to kill me?—Banished!

O friar, the damned use that word in hell,

[Howling] attends 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 'banished'?

Friar Laurence. Thou [fond] mad man, hear me but speak a word.

Romeo. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

Friar Laurence. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;

[Adversity's sweet milk], philosophy,

To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Romeo. Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!

Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,

[Displant] a town, reverse a prince's doom,

It helps not, it [prevails] not; talk no more.

Friar Laurence. O, then I see that madmen have no ears.

Romeo. How should they, [when that] wise men have no eyes?

Friar Laurence. Let me [dispute] with thee of thy estate.

Romeo. Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel.

Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,

An hour but married, Tybalt murthered,

Doting like me and like me banished,

Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,

And fall upon the ground, as I do now,

[Taking the measure] of an unmade grave. [Knocking within.

Friar Laurence. Arise; one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself.

Romeo. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick groans

Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes. [Knocking.

Friar Laurence. Hark, how they knock!—Who's there?—Romeo, arise;

Thou wilt be taken.—Stay awhile!—Stand up; [Knocking.

Run to my study.—By and by!—God's will,

What [simpleness] 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.

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Friar Laurence.Welcome, then.

Enter Nurse

Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,

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

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

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

Just in her case!

Friar Laurence. [O woful sympathy]!

Piteous predicament!

Nurse.Even so lies she,

Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.—

Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man.

For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand.

Why should you fall into so deep an [O]?

Romeo. Nurse!

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

Romeo. Spak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her?

Doth she not 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 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.

Romeo.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.—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.

Friar Laurence.[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!

Thou 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,

By [doing damned hate] upon thyself?

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

Since birth and heaven and earth, all three do meet

In thee at once, which thou at once wouldst lose.

Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy [wit],

Which, like a 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,

Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;

Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,

Misshapen in the conduct of them both,

[Like powder] in a skilless soldier's flask,

Is set a-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 kill 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 misbehav'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

Than thou went'st forth in [lamentation].—

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 stay'd here all the night

To hear good counsel; O, what learning is!—

My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

Romeo. 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.

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

Friar Laurence. Go hence; good night; and [here stands] all your state:

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.

Romeo. But that a joy past joy calls out on me,

It were a grief, [so brief to part] with thee.

Farewell. [Exeunt.