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?
Friar Laurence. A gentler judgment [vanish'd] from his lips,
Not body's death, but body's banishment.