Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Seal'd up the doors and would not let us forth,
So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.
Friar Laurence. Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?
Friar John. I could not send it,—here it is again,—
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of [infection].
Friar Laurence. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not [nice], but full of charge
Of [dear] import, and the neglecting it