Romeo and Juliet

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Original text
Act III, Scene I
Enter Mercutio, Benuolio, and men.

Ben.
I pray thee good Mercutio lets retire,
The day is hot, the Capulets abroad:
And if we meet, we shal not scape a brawle,
for now these / hot dayes, is the mad blood stirring.

Mer.
Thou art like one of these fellowes, that when
he enters the confines of a Tauerne, claps me his Sword
vpon the Table, and sayes, God send me no need of thee:
and by the operation of the second cup, drawes him on the
Drawer, when indeed there is no need.

Ben.
Am I like such a Fellow?

Mer.
Come, come, thou art as hot a Iacke in thy
mood, as any in Italie: and assoone moued to be moodie,
and assoone moodie to be mou'd.

Ben.
And what too?

Mer.
Nay, and there were two such, we should haue
none shortly, for one would kill the other: thou, why
thou wilt quarrell with a man that hath a haire more, or a
haire lesse in his beard, then thou hast: thou wilt quarrell
with a man for cracking Nuts, hauing no other reason, but
because thou hast hasell eyes: what eye, but such an eye,
would spie out such a quarrell? thy head is as full of
quarrels, as an egge is full of meat, and yet thy head hath
bin beaten as addle as an egge for quarreling: thou
hast quarrel'd with a man for coffing in the street,
because he hath wakened thy Dog that hath laine asleepe in
the Sun. Did'st thou not fall out with a Tailor for wearing
his new Doublet before Easter? with another, for tying
his new shooes with old Riband, and yet thou wilt Tutor
me from quarrelling?

Ben.
And I were so apt to quarell as thou art, any
man should buy the Fee-simple of my life, for an houre
and a quarter.

Mer.
The Fee-simple? O simple.
Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.

Ben.
By my head here comes the Capulets.

Mer.
By my heele I care not.

Tyb.
Follow me close, for I will speake to them.
Gentlemen, Good den, a word with one of you.

Mer.
And but one word with one of vs? couple it
with something, make it a word and a blow.

Tib.
You shall find me apt inough to that sir, and you
will giue me occasion.

Mercu.
Could you not take some occasion without
giuing?

Tib.
Mercutio thou consort'st with Romeo.

Mer.
Consort? what dost thou make vs Minstrels?
& thou make Minstrels of vs, looke to heare nothing but
discords: heere's my fiddlesticke, heere's that shall make
you daunce. Come consort.

Ben.
We talke here in the publike haunt of men:
Either withdraw vnto some priuate place,
Or reason coldly of your greeuances:
Or else depart, here all eies gaze on vs.

Mer.
Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze.
I will not budge for no mans pleasure I.
Enter Romeo.

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

Mer.
But Ile be hang'd sir if he weare your Liuery.
Marry go before to field, heele be your follower,
Your worship in that sense, may call him man.

Tib.
Romeo, the loue I beare thee, can affoord
No better terme then this: Thou art a Villaine.

Rom.
Tibalt, the reason that I haue to loue thee,
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting: Villaine am I none;
Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not.

Tib.
Boy, this shall not excuse the iniuries
That thou hast done me, therefore turne and draw.

Rom.
I do protest I neuer iniur'd thee,
But lou'd thee better then thou can'st deuise:
Till thou shalt know the reason of my loue,
And so good Capulet, which name I tender
As dearely as my owne, be satisfied.

Mer.
O calme, dishonourable, vile submission:
Alla stucatho carries it away.

Tybalt, you Rat-catcher, will you walke?

Tib.
What woulds thou haue with me?

Mer.
Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your
nine liues, that I meane to make bold withall, and as you
shall vse me hereafter dry beate the rest of the eight.
Will you pluck your Sword out of his Pilcher by the eares?
Make hast, least mine be about your eares ere it be out.

Tib.
I am for you.


Rom.
Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier vp.

Mer.
Come sir, your Passado.

Rom.
Draw Benuolio, beat downe their weapons:
Gentlemen, for shame forbeare this outrage,
Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince expresly hath
Forbidden bandying in Verona streetes.
Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio.
Exit Tybalt.

Mer.
I am hurt.
A plague a both the Houses, I am sped:
Is he gone and hath nothing?

Ben.
What art thou hurt?

Mer.
I, I, a scratch, a scratch, marry 'tis inough,
Where is my Page? go Villaine fetch a Surgeon.

Rom.
Courage man, the hurt cannot be much.

Mer.
No: 'tis not so deepe as a well, nor so wide as
a Church doore, but 'tis inough, 'twill serue: aske for me
to morrow, and you shall find me a graue man. I am pepper'd
I warrant, for this world: a plague a both your
houses. What, a Dog, a Rat, a Mouse, a Cat to scratch
a man to death: a Braggart, a Rogue, a Villaine, that fights
by the booke of Arithmeticke, why the deu'le came you betweene
vs? I was hurt vnder your arme.

Rom.
I thought all for the best.

Mer.
Helpe me into some house Benuolio,
Or I shall faint: a plague a both your houses.
They haue made wormes meat of me,
I haue it, and soundly to your Houses.
Exit.

Rom.
This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie,
My very Friend hath got his mortall hurt
In my behalfe, my reputation stain'd
With Tibalts slaunder, Tybalt that an houre
Hath beene my Cozin: O Sweet Iuliet,
Thy Beauty hath made me Effeminate,
And in my temper softned Valours steele.
Enter Benuolio.

Ben.
O Romeo, Romeo, braue Mercutio's is dead,
That Gallant spirit hath aspir'd the Cloudes,
Which too vntimely here did scorne the earth.

Rom.
This daies blacke Fate, on mo daies doth depend,
This but begins, the wo others must end.
Enter Tybalt.

Ben.
Here comes the Furious Tybalt backe againe.

Rom.
He gon in triumph, and Mercutio slaine?
Away to heauen respectiue Lenitie,
And fire and Fury, be my conduct now.
Now Tybalt take the Villaine backe againe
That late thou gau'st me, for Mercutios soule
Is but a little way aboue our heads,
Staying for thine to keepe him companie:
Either thou or I, or both, must goe with him.

Tib.
Thou wretched Boy that didst consort him here,
Shalt with him hence.

Rom.
This shall determine that.
They fight. Tybalt falles.

Ben.
Romeo, away be gone:
The Citizens are vp, and Tybalt slaine,
Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will Doome thee death
If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away.

Rom.
O! I am Fortunes foole.

Ben.
Why dost thou stay?
Exit Romeo.
Enter Citizens.

Citi.
Which way ran he that kild Mercutio?
Tibalt that Murtherer, which way ran he?

Ben.
There lies that Tybalt.

Citi.
Vp sir go with me:
I charge thee in the Princes names obey.
Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their Wiues and all.

Prin.
Where are the vile beginners of this Fray?

Ben.
O Noble Prince, I can discouer all
The vnluckie Mannage of this fatall brall:
There lies the man slaine by young Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman braue Mercutio.

Cap. Wi.
Tybalt, my Cozin? O my Brothers Child,
O Prince, O Cozin, Husband, O the blood is spild
Of my deare kinsman. Prince as thou art true,
For bloud of ours, shed bloud of Mountague.
O Cozin, Cozin.

Prin.
Benuolio, who began this Fray?

Ben.
Tybalt here slaine, whom Romeo's hand did slay,
Romeo that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke
How nice the Quarrell was, and vrg'd withall
Your high displeasure: all this vttered,
With gentle breath, calme looke, knees humbly bow'd
Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene
Of Tybalts deafe to peace, but that he Tilts
With Peircing steele at bold Mercutio's breast,
Who all as hot, turnes deadly point to point,
And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand beates
Cold death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,
Hold Friends, Friends part, and swifter then his tongue,
His aged arme, beats downe their fatall points,
And twixt them rushes, vnderneath whose arme,
An enuious thrust from Tybalt, hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled.
But by and by comes backe to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertained Reuenge,
And too't they goe like lightning, for ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slaine:
And as he fell, did Romeo turne and flie:
This is the truth, or let Benuolio die.

Cap. Wi.
He is a kinsman to the Mountague,
Affection makes him false, he speakes not true:
Some twenty of them fought in this blacke strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life.
I beg for Iustice, which thou Prince must giue:
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not liue.

Prin.
Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio,
Who now the price of his deare blood doth owe.

Cap.
Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutios Friend,
His fault concludes, but what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.

Prin.
And for that offence,
Immediately we doe exile him hence:
I haue an interest in your hearts proceeding:
My bloud for your rude brawles doth lie a bleeding.
But Ile Amerce you with so strong a fine,
That you shall all repent the losse of mine.
It will be deafe to pleading and excuses,
Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase our abuses.
Therefore vse none, let Romeo hence in hast,
Else when he is found, that houre is his last.
Beare hence this body, and attend our will:
Mercy not Murders, pardoning those that kill.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act III, Scene II
Enter Iuliet alone.

Iul.
Gallop apace, you fiery footed steedes,
Towards Phoebus lodging, such a Wagoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the west,
And bring in Cloudie night immediately.
Spred thy close Curtaine Loue-performing night,
That run-awayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo
Leape to these armes, vntalkt of and vnseene,
Louers can see to doe their Amorous rights,
And by their owne Beauties: or if Loue be blind,
It best agrees with night: come ciuill night,
Thou sober suted Matron all in blacke,
And learne me how to loose a winning match,
Plaid for a paire of stainlesse Maidenhoods,
Hood my vnman'd blood bayting in my Cheekes,
With thy Blacke mantle, till strange Loue grow bold,
Thinke true Loue acted simple modestie:
Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night,
For thou wilt lie vpon the wings of night
Whiter then new Snow vpon a Rauens backe:
Come gentle night, come louing blackebrow'd night.
Giue me my Romeo, and when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little starres,
And he will make the Face of heauen so fine,
That all the world will be in Loue with night,
And pay no worship to the Garish Sun.
O I haue bought the Mansion of a Loue,
But not possest it, and though I am sold,
Not yet enioy'd, so tedious is this day,
As is the night before some Festiuall,
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not weare them,
Enter Nurse with cords.
O here comes my Nurse:
And she brings newes and euery tongue that speaks
But Romeos, name, speakes heauenly eloquence:
Now Nurse, what newes? what hast thou there?
The Cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?

Nur.
I, I, the Cords.

Iuli.
Ay me, what newes? / Why dost thou wring thy hands.

Nur.
A weladay, hee's dead, hee's dead,
We are vndone Lady, we are vndone.
Alacke the day, hee's gone, hee's kil'd, he's dead.

Iul.
Can heauen be so enuious?

Nur.
Romeo can,
Though heauen cannot. O Romeo, Romeo.
Who euer would haue thought it Romeo.

Iuli.
What diuell art thou, / That dost torment me thus?
This torture should be roar'd in dismall hell,
Hath Romeo slaine himselfe? say thou but I,
And that bare vowell I shall poyson more
Then the death-darting eye of Cockatrice,
I am not I, if there be such an I.
Or those eyes shot, that makes thee answere I:
If he be slaine say I, or if not, no.
Briefe, sounds, determine of my weale or wo.

Nur.
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,
God saue the marke, here on his manly brest,
A pitteous Coarse, a bloody piteous Coarse:
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood,
All in gore blood, I sounded at the sight-

Iul.
O breake my heart, / Poore Banckrout breake at once,
To prison eyes, nere looke on libertie.
Vile earth to earth resigne, end motion here,
And thou and Romeo presse on heauie beere.

Nur.
O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best Friend I had:
O curteous Tybalt honest Gentleman,
That euer I should liue to see thee dead.

Iul.
What storme is this that blowes so contrarie?
Is Romeo slaughtred? and is Tybalt dead?
My dearest Cozen, and my dearer Lord:
Then dreadfull Trumpet sound the generall doome,
For who is liuing, if those two aregone?

Nur.
Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished,
Romeo that kil'd him, he is banished.

Iul.
O God! Did Rom'os hand shed Tybalts blood
It did, it did, alas the day, it did.

Nur.
O Serpent heart, hid with a flowring face.
Iul. Did euer Dragon keepe so faire a Caue?
Beautifull Tyrant, fiend Angelicall:
Rauenous Doue-feather'd Rauen, / Woluish-rauening Lambe,
Dispised substance of Diuinest show:
Iust opposite to what thou iustly seem'st,
A dimne Saint, an Honourable Villaine:
O Nature! what had'st thou to doe in hell,
When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortall paradise of such sweet flesh?
Was euer booke containing such vile matter
So fairely bound? O that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous Pallace.

Nur.
There's no trust,
no faith, no honestie in men, / All periur'd,
all forsworne, all naught, all dissemblers,
Ah where's my man? giue me some Aqua-vita?
These griefes, these woes, these sorrowes make me old:
Shame come to Romeo.

Iul.
Blister'd be thy tongue
For such a wish, he was not borne to shame:
Vpon his brow shame is asham'd to sit;
For 'tis a throane where Honour may be Crown'd
Sole Monarch of the vniuersall earth:
O what a beast was I to chide him?

Nur.
Will you speake well of him, / That kil'd your Cozen?

Iul.
Shall I speake ill of him that is my husband?
Ah poore my Lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
When I thy three houres wife haue mangled it.
But wherefore Villaine did'st thou kill my Cozin?
That Villaine Cozin would haue kil'd my husband:
Backe foolish teares, backe to your natiue spring,
Your tributarie drops belong to woe,
Which you mistaking offer vp to ioy:
My husband liues that Tibalt would haue slaine,
And Tibalt dead that would haue slaine my husband:
All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then?
Some words there was worser then Tybalts death
That murdered me, I would forget it feine,
But oh, it presses to my memory,
Like damned guilty deedes to sinners minds,
Tybalt is dead and Romeo banished:
That banished, that one word banished,
Hath slaine ten thousand Tibalts: Tibalts death
Was woe inough if it had ended there:
Or if sower woe delights in fellowship,
And needly will be rankt with other griefes,
Why followed not when she said Tibalts dead,
Thy Father or thy Mother, nay or both,
Which moderne lamentation might haue mou'd.
But which a rere-ward following Tybalts death
Romeo is banished to speake that word,
Is Father, Mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Iuliet,
All slaine, all dead: Romeo is banished,
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
In that words death, no words can that woe sound.
Where is my Father and my Mother Nurse?

Nur.
Weeping and wailing ouer Tybalts Coarse,
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.

Iu.
Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shal be spent
When theirs are drie for Romeo's banishment.
Take vp those Cordes, poore ropes you are beguil'd,
Both you and I for Romeo is exild:
He made you for a high-way to my bed,
But I a Maid, die Maiden widowed.
Come Cord, come Nurse, Ile to my wedding bed,
And death not Romeo, take my Maiden head.

Nur.
Hie to your Chamber, Ile find Romeo
To comfort you, I wot well where he is:
Harke ye your Romeo will be heere at night,
Ile to him, he is hid at Lawrence Cell.

Iul.
O find him, giue this Ring to my true Knight,
And bid him come, to take his last farewell.
Exit.
Original text
Act III, Scene III
Enter Frier and Romeo.

Fri.
Romeo come forth, / Come forth thou fearfull man,
Affliction is enamor'd of thy parts:
And thou art wedded to calamitie.


Rom.
Father what newes? / What is the Princes Doome?
What sorrow craues acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?

Fri.
Too familiar
Is my deare Sonne with such sowre Company:
I bring thee tydings of the Princes Doome.

Rom.
What lesse then Doomesday, / Is the Princes Doome?

Fri.
A gentler iudgement vanisht from his lips,
Not bodies death, but bodies banishment.

Rom.
Ha, banishment? be mercifull, say death:
For exile hath more terror in his looke,
Much more then death: do not say banishment.

Fri.
Here from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Rom.
There is no world without Verona walles,
But Purgatorie, Torture, hell it selfe:
Hence banished, is banisht from the world,
And worlds exile is death. Then banished,
Is death, mistearm'd, calling death banished,
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden Axe,
And smilest vpon the stroke that murders me.

Fri.
O deadly sin, O rude vnthankefulnesse!
Thy falt our Law calles death, but the kind Prince
Taking thy part, hath rusht aside the Law,
And turn'd that blacke word death, to banishment.
This is deare mercy, and thou seest it not.

Rom.
'Tis Torture and not mercy, heauen is here
Where Iuliet liues, and euery Cat and Dog,
And little Mouse, euery vnworthy thing
Liue here in Heauen and may looke on her,
But Romeo may not. More Validitie,
More Honourable state, more Courtship liues
In carrion Flies, then Romeo: they may seaze
On the white wonder of deare Iuliets hand,
And steale immortall blessing from her lips,
Who euen in pure and vestall modestie
Still blush, as thinking their owne kisses sin.
This may Flies doe, when I from this must flie,
And saist thou yet, that exile is not death?
But Romeo may not, hee is banished.




Had'st thou no poyson mixt, no sharpe ground knife,
No sudden meane of death, though nere so meane,
But banished to kill me? Banished?
O Frier, the damned vse that word in hell:
Howlings attends it, how hast thou the hart
Being a Diuine, a Ghostly Confessor,
A Sin-Absoluer, and my Friend profest:
To mangle me with that word, banished?

Fri.
Then fond Mad man, heare me speake.

Rom.
O thou wilt speake againe of banishment.

Fri.
Ile giue thee Armour to keepe off that word,
Aduersities sweete milke, Philosophie,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Rom.
Yet banished? hang vp Philosophie:
Vnlesse Philosohpie can make a Iuliet,
Displant a Towne, reuerse a Princes Doome,
It helpes not, it preuailes not, talke no more.

Fri.
O then I see, that Mad men haue no eares.

Rom.
How should they, / When wisemen haue no eyes?

Fri.
Let me dispaire with thee of thy estate,

Rom.
Thou can'st not speake of that yu dost not feele,
Wert thou as young as Iuliet my Loue:
An houre but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banished,
Then mightest thou speake, / Then mightest thou teare thy hayre,
And fall vpon the ground as I doe now,
Taking the measure of an vnmade graue.
Enter Nurse, and knockes.

Frier.
Arise one knockes, / Good Romeo hide thy selfe.

Rom.
Not I, / Vnlesse the breath of Hartsicke groanes
Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes.
Knocke

Fri.
Harke how they knocke: / (Who's there) Romeo arise,
Thou wilt be taken, stay a while, stand vp:
Knocke.
Run to my study: by and by, Gods will
What simplenesse is this: I come, I come.
Knocke.
Who knocks so hard? / Whence come you? what's your will?

Nur.
Let me come in, / And you shall know my errand:
I come from Lady Iuliet.

Fri.
Welcome then.
Enter Nurse.

Nur.
O holy Frier, O tell me holy Frier,
Where's my Ladies Lord? where's Romeo?

Fri.
There on the ground, / With his owne teares made drunke.

Nur.
O he is euen in my Mistresse case,
Iust in her case. O wofull simpathy:
Pittious predicament, euen so lies she,
Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring,
Stand vp, stand vp, stand and you be a man,
For Iuliets sake, for her sake rise and stand:
Why should you fall into so deepe an O.

Rom.
Nurse.

Nur.
Ah sir, ah sir, deaths the end of all.

Rom.
Speak'st thou of Iuliet? how is it with her?
Doth not she thinke me an old Murtherer,
Now I haue stain'd the Childhood of our ioy,
With blood remoued, but little from her owne?
Where is she? and how doth she? and what sayes
My conceal'd Lady to our conceal'd Loue?

Nur.
Oh she sayes nothing sir, but weeps and weeps,
And now fals on her bed, and then starts vp,
And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries,
And then downe falls againe.

Ro.
As if that name
shot from the dead leuell of a Gun,
Did murder her, as that names cursed hand
Murdred her kinsman. Oh tell me Frier, tell me,
In what vile part of this Anatomie
Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sacke
The hatefull Mansion.

Fri.
Hold thy desperate hand:
Art thou a man? thy forme cries out thou art:
Thy teares are womanish, thy wild acts denote
The vnreasonable Furie of a beast.
Vnseemely woman, in a seeming man,
And ill beseeming beast in seeming both,
Thou hast amaz'd me. By my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slaine Tybalt? wilt thou slay thy selfe?
And slay thy Lady, that in thy life lies,
By doing damned hate vpon thy selfe?
Why rayl'st thou on thy birth? the heauen and earth?
Since birth, and heauen and earth, all three do meete
In thee at once, which thou at once would'st loose.
Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy loue, thy wit,
Which like a Vsurer abound'st in all:
And vsest none in that true vse indeed,
Which should bedecke thy shape, thy loue, thy wit:
Thy Noble shape, is but a forme of waxe,
Digressing from the Valour of a man,
Thy deare Loue sworne but hollow periurie,
Killing that Loue which thou hast vow'd to cherish.
Thy wit, that Ornament, to shape and Loue,
Mishapen in the conduct of them both:
Like powder in a skillesse Souldiers flaske,
Is set a fire by thine owne ignorance,
And thou dismembred with thine owne defence.
What, rowse thee man, thy Iuliet is aliue,
For whose deare sake thou wast but lately dead.
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt, there art thou happie.
The law that threatned death became thy Friend,
And turn'd it to exile, there art thou happy.
A packe or blessing light vpon thy backe,
Happinesse Courts thee in her best array,
But like a mishaped and sullen wench,
Thou puttest vp thy Fortune and thy Loue:
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Goe get thee to thy Loue as was decreed,
Ascend her Chamber, hence and comfort her:
But looke thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not passe to Mantua,
Where thou shalt liue till we can finde a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your Friends,
Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee backe,
With twenty hundred thousand times more ioy
Then thou went'st forth in lamentation.
Goe before Nurse, commend me to thy Lady,
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heauy sorrow makes them apt vnto.
Romeo is comming.

Nur.
O Lord, I could haue staid here all night,
To heare good counsell: oh what learning is!
My Lord Ile tell my Lady you will come.

Rom.
Do so, and bid my Sweete prepare to chide.

Nur.
Heere sir, a Ring she bid me giue you sir:
Hie you, make hast, for it growes very late.

Rom.
How well my comfort is reuiu'd by this.

Fri.
Go hence, / Goodnight, and here stands all your state:
Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the breake of day disguis'd from hence,
Soiourne in Mantua, Ile find out your man,
And he shall signifie from time to time,
Euery good hap to you, that chaunces heere:
Giue me thy hand, 'tis late, farewell, goodnight.

Rom.
But that a ioy past ioy, calls out on me,
It were a griefe, so briefe to part with thee:
Farewell.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act III, Scene IV
Enter old Capulet, his Wife and Paris.

Cap.
Things haue falne out sir so vnluckily,
That we haue had no time to moue our Daughter:
Looke you, she Lou'd her kinsman Tybalt dearely,
And so did I. Well, we were borne to die.
'Tis very late, she'l not come downe to night:
I promise you, but for your company,
I would haue bin a bed an houre ago.

Par.
These times of wo, affoord no times to wooe:
Madam goodnight, commend me to your Daughter.

Lady.
I will, and know her mind early to morrow,
To night, she is mewed vp to her heauinesse.


Cap.
Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my Childes loue: I thinke she will be rul'd
In all respects by me: nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed,
Acquaint her here, of my Sonne Paris Loue,
And bid her, marke you me, on Wendsday next,
But soft, what day is this?

Par.
Monday my Lord.

Cap.
Monday, ha ha: well Wendsday is too soone,
A Thursday let it be: a Thursday tell her,
She shall be married to this Noble Earle:
Will you be ready? do you like this hast?
Weele keepe no great adoe, a Friend or two,
For harke you, Tybalt being slaine so late,
It may be thought we held him carelesly,
Being our kinsman, if we reuell much:
Therefore weele haue some halfe a dozen Friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?

Paris.
My Lord, I would that Thursday were to morrow.

Cap.
Well, get you gone, a Thursday, be it then:
Go you to Iuliet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her wife, against this wedding day.
Farewell my Lord, light to my Chamber hoa,
Afore me, it is so late, that we
may call ir early by and by, / Goodnight.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act III, Scene V
Enter Romeo and Iuliet aloft.

Iul.
Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet neere day:
It was the Nightingale, and not the Larke,
That pier'st the fearefull hollow of thine eare,
Nightly she sings on yond Pomgranet tree,
Beleeue me Loue, it was the Nightingale.

Rom.
It was the Larke the Herauld of the Morne:
No Nightingale: looke Loue what enuious streakes
Do lace the seuering Cloudes in yonder East:
Nights Candles are burnt out, and Iocond day
Stands tipto on the mistie Mountaines tops,
I must be gone and liue, or stay and die.

Iul.
Yond light is not daylight, I know it I:
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 tane, let me be put to death,
I am content, so thou wilt haue it so.
Ile say yon gray is not the mornings eye,
'Tis but the pale reflexe of Cinthias brow.
Nor that is not Larke whose noates do beate
The vaulty heauen so high aboue our heads,
I haue more care to stay, then will to go:
Come death and welcome, Iuliet wills it so.
How ist my soule, lets talke, it is not day.

Iuli.
It is, it is, hie hence be gone away:
It is the Larke that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh Discords, and vnpleasing Sharpes.
Some say the Larke makes sweete Diuision;
This doth not so: for she diuideth vs.
Some say, the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes,
O now I would they had chang'd voyces too:
Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray,
Hunting thee hence, with Hunts-vp to the day,
O now be gone, more light and itlight growes.

Rom.
More light & light, more darke & darke our woes.
Enter Madam and Nurse.

Nur.
Madam.

Iul.
Nurse.

Nur.
Your Lady Mother is comming to your chamber,
The day is broke, be wary, looke about.

Iul.
Then window let day in, and let life out.

Rom.
Farewell, farewell, one kisse and Ile descend.


Iul.
Art thou gone so? Loue, Lord, ay Husband, Friend,
I must heare from thee euery day in the houre,
For in a minute there are many dayes,
O by this count I shall be much in yeares,
Ere I againe behold my Romeo.

Rom.
Farewell:
I will omit no oportunitie,
That may conuey my greetings Loue, to thee.

Iul.
O thinkest thou we shall euer meet againe?

Rom.
I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serue
For sweet discourses in our time to come.

Iuilet.
O God! I haue an ill Diuining soule,
Me thinkes I see thee now, thou art so lowe,
As one dead in the bottome of a Tombe,
Either my eye-sight failes, or thou look'st pale.

Rom.
And trust me Loue, in my eye so do you:
Drie sorrow drinkes our blood. Adue, adue.
Exit.

Iul.
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 keepe him long,
But send him backe.
Enter Mother.

Lad.
Ho Daughter, are you vp?

Iul:
Who ist that calls? Is it my Lady Mother.
Is she not downe so late, or vp so early?
What vnaccustom'd cause procures her hither?

Lad.
Why how now Iuliet?

Iul.
Madam I am not well.

Lad.
Euermore weeping for your Cozins death?
What wilt thou wash him from his graue with teares?
And if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him liue:
Therefore haue done, some griefe shewes much of Loue,
But much of griefe, shewes still some want of wit.

Iul.
Yet let me weepe, for such a feeling losse.

Lad.
So shall you feele the losse, but not the Friend
Which you weepe for.

Iul.
Feeling so the losse,
I cannot chuse but euer weepe the Friend.

La.
Well Girle, thou weep'st not so much for his death,
As that the Villaine liues which slaughter'd him.

Iul.
What Villaine, Madam?

Lad.
That same Villaine Romeo.

Iul.
Villaine and he, be many Miles assunder:
God pardon, I doe with all my heart:
And yet no man like he, doth grieue my heart.

Lad.
That is because the Traitor liues.

Iul.
I Madam from the reach of these my hands:
Would none but I might venge my Cozins death.

Lad.
We will haue vengeance for it, feare thou not.
Then weepe no more, Ile send to one in Mantua,
Where that same banisht Run-agate doth liue,
Shall giue him such an vnaccustom'd dram,
That he shall soone keepe Tybalt company:
And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied.

Iul.
Indeed I neuer shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him. Dead
Is my poore heart so for a kinsman vext:
Madam if you could find out but a man
To beare a poyson, I would temper it;
That Romeo should vpon receit thereof,
Soone sleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhors
To heare him nam'd, and cannot come to him,
To wreake the Loue I bore my Cozin,
Vpon his body that hath slaughter'd him.

Mo.
Find thou the meanes, and Ile find such a man.
But now Ile tell thee ioyfull tidings Gyrle.

Iul.
And ioy comes well, in such a needy time,
What are they, beseech your Ladyship?

Mo.
Well, well, thou hast a carefull Father Child?
One who to put thee from thy heauinesse,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of ioy,
That thou expects not, nor I lookt not for.

Iul.
Madam in happy time, what day is this?

Mo.
Marry my Child, early next Thursday morne,
The gallant, young, and Noble Gentleman,
The Countie Paris at Saint Peters Church,
Shall happily make thee a ioyfull Bride.

Iul.
Now by Saint Peters Church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a ioyfull Bride.
I wonder at this hast, that I must wed
Ere he that should be Husband comes to woe:
I pray you tell my Lord and Father Madam,
I will not marrie yet, and when I doe, I sweare
It shallbe Romeo, whom you know I hate
Rather then Paris. These are newes indeed.

Mo.
Here comes your Father, tell him so your selfe,
And see how he will take it at your hands.
Enter Capulet and Nurse.

Cap.
When the Sun sets, the earth doth drizzle daew
But for the Sunset of my Brothers Sonne,
It raines downright.
How now? A Conduit Gyrle, what still in teares?
Euermore showring in one little body?
Thou counterfaits a Barke, a Sea, a Wind:
For still thy eyes, which I may call the Sea,
Do ebbe and flow with teares, the Barke thy body is
Sayling in this salt floud, the windes thy sighes,
Who raging with the teares and they with them,
Without a sudden calme will ouer set
Thy tempest tossed body. How now wife?
Haue you deliuered to her our decree?

Lady.
I sir; / But she will none, she giues you thankes,
I would the foole were married to her graue.

Cap.
Soft, take me with you, take me with you wife,
How, will she none? doth she not giue vs thanks?
Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,
Vnworthy as she is, that we haue wrought
So worthy a Gentleman, to be her Bridegroome

Iul.
Not proud you haue, / But thankfull that you haue:
Proud can I neuer be of what I haue,
But thankfull euen for hate, that is meant Loue.

Cap.
How now? / How now? Chopt Logicke? what is this?
Proud, and I thanke you: and I thanke you not.
Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But fettle your fine ioints 'gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to Saint Peters Church:
Or I will drag thee, on a Hurdle thither.
Out you greene sicknesse carrion, out you baggage,
You tallow face.

Lady.
Fie, fie, what are you mad?

Iul.
Good Father, I beseech you on my knees
Heare me with patience, but to speake a word.

Fa.
Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch,
I tell thee what, get thee to Church a Thursday,
Or neuer after looke me in the face.
Speake not, reply not, do not answere me.
My fingers itch, wife: we scarce thought vs blest,
That God had lent vs but this onely Child,
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we haue a curse in hauing her:
Out on her Hilding.

Nur.
God in heauen blesse her,
You are too blame my Lord to rate her so.

Fa.
And why my Lady wisedome? hold your tongue,
Good Prudence, smatter with your gossip, go.

Nur.
I speake no treason,
Father, O Godigoden,
May not one speake?

Fa.
Peace you mumbling foole,
Vtter your grauitie ore a Gossips bowles
For here we need it not.

La.
You are too hot.

Fa.
Gods bread, it makes me mad:
Day, night, houre, ride, time, worke, play,
Alone in companie, still my care hath bin
To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided
A Gentleman of Noble Parentage,
Of faire Demeanes, Youthfull, and Nobly Allied,
Stuft as they say with Honourable parts,
Proportion'd as ones thought would wish a man,
And then to haue a wretched puling foole,
A whining mammet, in her Fortunes tender,
To answer, Ile not wed, I cannot Loue:
I am too young, I pray you pardon me.
But, and you will not wed, Ile pardon you.
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me:
Looke too't, thinke on't, I do not vse to iest.
Thursday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduise,
And you be mine, Ile giue you to my Friend:
And you be not, hang, beg, straue, die in the streets,
For by my soule, Ile nere acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall neuer do thee good:
Trust too't, bethinke you, Ile not be forsworne
Exit.

Iuli.
Is there no pittie sitting in the Cloudes,
That sees into the bottome of my griefe?
O sweet my Mother cast me not away,
Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke,
Or if you do not, make the Bridall bed
In that dim Monument where Tybalt lies.

Mo.
Talke not to me, for Ile not speake a word,
Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee.
Exit.

Iul.
O God! / O Nurse, how shall this be preuented?
My Husband is on earth, my faith in heauen,
How shall that faith returne againe to earth,
Vnlesse that Husband send it me from heauen,
By leauing earth? Comfort me, counsaile me:
Hlacke, alacke, that heauen should practise stratagems
Vpon so soft a subiect as my selfe.
What saist thou? hast thou not a word of ioy?
Some comfort Nurse.

Nur.
Faith here it is,
Romeo is banished, and all the world to nothing,
That he dares nere come backe to challenge you:
Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then since the case so stands as now it doth,
I thinke it best you married with the Countie,
O hee's a Louely Gentleman:
Romeos a dish-clout to him: an Eagle Madam
Hath not so greene, so quicke, so faire an eye
As Paris hath, beshrow my very heart,
I thinke you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first: or if it did not,
Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were,
As liuing here and you no vse of him.

Iul.
Speakest thou from thy heart?

Nur.
And from my soule too, / Or else beshrew them both.

Iul.
Amen.

Nur.
What?

Iul.
Well, thou hast comforted me marue'lous much,
Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone,
Hauing displeas'd my Father, to Lawrence Cell,
To make confession, and to be absolu'd.

Nur.
Marrie I will, and this is wisely done.

Iul.
Auncient damnation, O most wicked fiend!
It is more sin to wish me thus forsworne,
Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue
Which she hath prais'd him with aboue compare,
So many thousand times? Go Counsellor,
Thou and my bosome henchforth shall be twaine:
Ile to the Frier to know his remedie,
If all else faile, my selfe haue power to die.
Exeunt.
Modern text
Act III, Scene I
Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and their men

BENVOLIO
I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire.
The day is hot, the Capels are abroad.
And if we meet we shall not 'scape a brawl,
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

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

BENVOLIO
Am I like such a fellow?

MERCUTIO
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.

BENVOLIO
And what to?

MERCUTIO
Nay, an there were two such, we should have
none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! Why,
thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath 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 out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of
quarrels as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath
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 riband? And yet thou wilt tutor
me from quarrelling!

BENVOLIO
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.

MERCUTIO
The fee-simple? O simple!
Enter Tybalt and others

BENVOLIO
By my head, here comes the Capulets.

MERCUTIO
By my heel, I care not.

TYBALT
Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good-e'en. A word with one of you.

MERCUTIO
And but one word with one of us? Couple it
with something. Make it a word and a blow.

TYBALT
You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you
will give me occasion.

MERCUTIO
Could you not take some occasion without
giving?

TYBALT
Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo.

MERCUTIO
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!

BENVOLIO
We talk here in the public haunt of men.
Either withdraw unto some private place,
And reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart. Here all eyes gaze on us.

MERCUTIO
Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze.
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
Enter Romeo

TYBALT
Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man.

MERCUTIO
But I'll be hanged, 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.’

TYBALT
Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford
No better term than this: thou art a villain.

ROMEO
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 knowest me not.

TYBALT
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me. Therefore turn and draw.

ROMEO
I do protest I never injured 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.

MERCUTIO
O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
Alla stoccata carries it away.
He draws
Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk?

TYBALT
What wouldst thou have with me?

MERCUTIO
Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your
nine 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 your ears ere it be out.

TYBALT
I am for you.
He draws

ROMEO
Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

MERCUTIO
Come, sir, your passado!
They fight

ROMEO
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!
Tybalt under Romeo's arm thrusts Mercutio

A FOLLOWER
Away, Tybalt!
Exit Tybalt with his followers

MERCUTIO
I am hurt.
A plague a' both houses! I am sped.
Is he gone and hath nothing?

BENVOLIO
What, art thou hurt?

MERCUTIO
Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, 'tis enough.
Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
Exit Page

ROMEO
Courage, man. The hurt cannot be much.

MERCUTIO
No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as
a church door. But 'tis enough. 'Twill serve. Ask for me
tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered,
I warrant, for this world. A plague a' both your
houses! Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch
a man to death! A 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.

ROMEO
I thought all for the best.

MERCUTIO
Help me into some house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint. A plague a'both your houses!
They have made worms' meat of me.
I have it, and soundly too. Your houses!
Exit Mercutio with Benvolio

ROMEO
This gentleman, the Prince's near ally,
My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt
In my behalf – my reputation stained
With Tybalt's slander – Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my cousin. O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
And in my temper softened valour's steel!
Enter Benvolio

BENVOLIO
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio is dead!
That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.

ROMEO
This day's black fate on more days doth depend.
This but begins the woe others must end.
Enter Tybalt

BENVOLIO
Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

ROMEO
Alive in triumph, and Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven respective lenity,
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!
Now, Tybalt, take the ‘ villain ’ back again
That late thou gavest me. For Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company.
Either thou or I, or both, must go with him.

TYBALT
Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
Shalt with him hence.

ROMEO
This shall determine that.
They fight. Tybalt falls

BENVOLIO
Romeo, away, be gone!
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.
Stand not amazed. The Prince will doom thee death
If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away!

ROMEO
O, I am fortune's fool!

BENVOLIO
Why dost thou stay?
Exit Romeo
Enter Citizens

CITIZENS
Which way ran he that killed Mercutio?
Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?

BENVOLIO
There lies that Tybalt.

CITIZEN
Up, sir, go with me.
I charge thee in the Prince's name obey.
Enter Prince, Montague, Capulet, their wives, and all

PRINCE
Where are the vile beginners of this fray?

BENVOLIO
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.

LADY CAPULET
Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child!
O Prince! O cousin! Husband! O, the blood is spilled
Of my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true,
For blood of ours shed blood of Montague.
O cousin, cousin!

PRINCE
Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?

BENVOLIO
Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay.
Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink
How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal
Your high displeasure. All this – uttered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowed –
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,
‘ Hold, friends! Friends, part!’ and swifter than his tongue
His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled.
But by and by comes back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertained revenge,
And to't they go like lightning. For, ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain.
And as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.
This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

LADY CAPULET
He is a kinsman to the Montague.
Affection makes him false. He speaks not true.
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life.
I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, must give.
Romeo slew Tybalt. Romeo must not live.

PRINCE
Romeo slew him. He slew Mercutio.
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?

MONTAGUE
Not Romeo, Prince. He was Mercutio's friend;
His fault concludes but what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.

PRINCE
And for that offence
Immediately we do exile him hence.
I have an interest in your hate's proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding.
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine
That you shall all repent the loss of mine.
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses.
Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses.
Therefore use none. Let Romeo hence in haste,
Else, when he is found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body, and attend our will.
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act III, Scene II
Enter Juliet alone

JULIET
Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus' lodging! Such a waggoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the West
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
That runaway's eyes may wink, and Romeo
Leap to these arms untalked of and unseen.
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Played for a pair of stainless maidenhoods.
Hood my unmanned blood, bating in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle till strange love grow bold,
Think true love acted simple modesty.
Come, night. Come, Romeo. Come, thou day in night;
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.
Come, gentle night. Come, loving, black-browed night.
Give me my Romeo. And when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
O I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possessed it; and though I am sold,
Not yet enjoyed. So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not wear them.
Enter Nurse, wringing her hands, with the ladder of cords
O here comes my Nurse,
And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks
But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.
Now, Nurse, what news? What, hast thou there the cords
That Romeo bid thee fetch?

NURSE
Ay, ay, the cords.
She throws them down

JULIET
Ay me! what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands?

NURSE
Ah, weraday! He's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
We are undone, lady, we are undone!
Alack the day! he's gone, he's killed, he's dead!

JULIET
Can heaven be so envious?

NURSE
Romeo can,
Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo!
Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!

JULIET
What devil art thou that dost torment me thus?
This torture should be roared in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but ‘ Ay,’
And that bare vowel ‘ I ’ shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.
I am not I, if there be such an ‘ I ’
Or those eyes shut that makes thee answer ‘ I.’
If he be slain, say ‘ Ay ’; or if not, ‘ No.’
Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.

NURSE
I saw the wound. I saw it with mine eyes –
God save the mark! – here on his manly breast.
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaubed in blood,
All in gore-blood. I swounded at the sight.

JULIET
O, break, my heart! Poor bankrupt, break at once!
To prison, eyes; ne'er look on liberty!
Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here,
And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!

NURSE
O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt, honest gentleman!
That ever I should live to see thee dead!

JULIET
What storm is this that blows so contrary?
Is Romeo slaughtered, and is Tybalt dead,
My dearest cousin and my dearer lord?
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the General Doom!
For who is living, if those two are gone?

NURSE
Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
Romeo that killed him, he is banished.

JULIET
O God! Did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?

NURSE
It did, it did! Alas the day, it did!

JULIET
O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
Dove-feathered raven! Wolvish-ravening lamb!
Despised substance of divinest show!
Just opposite to what thou justly seemest –
A damned saint, an honourable villain!
O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh?
Was ever book containing such vile matter
So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace!

NURSE
There's no trust,
No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
Ah, where's my man? Give me some aqua vitae.
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
Shame come to Romeo!

JULIET
Blistered be thy tongue
For such a wish! He was not born to shame.
Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit.
For 'tis a throne where honour may be crowned
Sole monarch of the universal earth.
O, what a beast was I to chide at him!

NURSE
Will you speak well of him that killed your cousin?

JULIET
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 killed my husband.
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring!
Your tributary drops belong to woe,
Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.
My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband.
All this is comfort. Wherefore weep I then?
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
That murdered 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,’
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there;
Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship
And needly will be ranked with other griefs,
Why followed not, when she said ‘ Tybalt's dead,’
Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
Which modern lamentation might have moved?
But with a rearward 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,
In that word's death. No words can that woe 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.

JULIET
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 beguiled,
Both you and I, for Romeo is exiled.
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. I wot well where he is.
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night.
I'll to him. He is hid at Laurence' cell.

JULIET
O, find him! Give this ring to my true knight
And bid him come to take his last farewell.
Exit Juliet with Nurse
Modern text
Act III, Scene III
Enter Friar Laurence

FRIAR
Romeo, come forth. Come forth, thou fearful man.
Affliction is enamoured 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
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
A gentler judgement vanished 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
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 banished from the world,
And world's exile is death. Then ‘ banished ’
Is death mistermed. Calling death ‘ banished,’
Thou cuttest my head off with a golden axe
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.

FRIAR
O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death. But the kind Prince,
Taking thy part, hath rushed aside the law,
And turned 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.
This may flies do, when I from this must fly.
And sayest thou yet that exile is not death?
But Romeo may not, he is banished.
Flies may do this but I from this must fly.
They are free men. But I am banished.
Hadst thou no poison mixed, 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.
Howlings attends it! How hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
A sin-absolver, and my friend professed,
To mangle me with that word ‘ banished ’?

FRIAR
Thou fond mad man, hear me a little speak.

ROMEO
O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

FRIAR
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
O, then I see that madmen have no ears.

ROMEO
How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?

FRIAR
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 murdered,
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.
Knock

FRIAR
Arise. One knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself.

ROMEO
Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans
Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes.
Knock

FRIAR
Hark, how they knock! – Who's there? – Romeo, arise.
Thou wilt be taken. – Stay awhile! – Stand up.
Knock
Run to my study. – By and by! – God's will,
What simpleness is this! – I come, I come!
Knock
Who knocks so hard? Whence come you? What's your will?

NURSE
Let me come in, and you shall know my errand.
I come from Lady Juliet.

FRIAR
Welcome then.
Enter Nurse

NURSE
O holy Friar, O, tell me, holy Friar,
Where's my lady's lord, where's Romeo?

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

NURSE
O, he is even in my mistress' case,
Just in her case! O woeful sympathy!
Piteous predicament! 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?
He rises

ROMEO
Nurse –

NURSE
Ah sir! ah sir! Death's the end of all.

ROMEO
Spakest thou of Juliet? How is it with her?
Doth not she think me an old murderer,
Now I have stained the childhood of our joy
With blood removed but little from her own?
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
My concealed lady to our cancelled 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 murder her; as that name's cursed hand
Murdered 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.
He offers to stab himself, and the Nurse snatches the
dagger away

FRIAR
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!
And ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
Thou hast amazed me. By my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better tempered.
Hast thou slain Tybalt? Wilt thou slay thyself?
And slay thy lady that in thy life lives,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why railest 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 shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit,
Which, like a usurer, aboundest 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 vowed 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 afire by thine own ignorance,
And thou dismembered 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 slewest Tybalt. There art thou happy.
The law, that threatened death, becomes thy friend
And turns it to exile. There art thou happy.
A pack of blessings light upon thy back.
Happiness courts thee in her best array.
But, like a mishaved and sullen wench,
Thou pouts 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 wentest 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 stayed 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.
The Nurse begins to go in and turns back again

NURSE
Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir.
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.
Exit Nurse

ROMEO
How well my comfort is revived by this!

FRIAR
Go hence. Good night. And here stands all your state:
Either be gone before the Watch be set,
Or by the break of day disguised 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
Modern text
Act III, Scene IV
Enter old Capulet, his wife, and Paris

CAPULET
Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily
That we have had no time to move our daughter.
Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I. Well, we were born to die.
'Tis very late. She'll not come down tonight.
I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been abed an hour ago.

PARIS
These times of woe afford no times to woo.
Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter.

LADY CAPULET
I will, and know her mind early tomorrow.
Tonight she's mewed up to her heaviness.
Paris offers to go in and Capulet calls him again

CAPULET
Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my child's love. I think she will be ruled
In all respects by me. Nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed.
Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love,
And bid her – mark you me? – on Wednesday next –
But soft! what day is this?

PARIS
Monday, my lord.

CAPULET
Monday! Ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon.
A' Thursday let it be. A' Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl.
Will you be ready? Do you like this haste?
We'll keep no great ado – a friend or two.
For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsman, if we revel much.
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?

PARIS
My lord, I would that Thursday were tomorrow.

CAPULET
Well, get you gone. A' Thursday be it, then.
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed.
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
Farewell, my lord. – Light to my chamber, ho!
Afore me, it is so very late that we
May call it early by and by. Good night.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act III, Scene V
Enter Romeo and Juliet aloft, at the window

JULIET
Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day.
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear.
Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree.
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

ROMEO
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.

JULIET
Yond light is not daylight; I know it, I.
It is some meteor that the sun exhales
To be to thee this night a torchbearer
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
Therefore stay yet. Thou needest not to be gone.

ROMEO
Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death.
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say yon grey 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.

JULIET
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.
Some say the lark makes sweet division.
This doth not so, for she divideth us.
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes.
O, now I would they had changed voices too,
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day.
O, now be gone! More light and light it grows.

ROMEO
More light and light: more dark and dark our woes.
Enter Nurse hastily

NURSE
Madam!

JULIET
Nurse?

NURSE
Your lady mother is coming to your chamber.
The day is broke. Be wary. Look about.
Exit Nurse

JULIET
Then, window, let day in, and let life out.

ROMEO
Farewell, farewell! One kiss, and I'll descend.
He goes down

JULIET
Art thou gone so, love-lord, aye husband-friend?
I must hear from thee every day in 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.

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

JULIET
O, thinkest thou we shall ever meet again?

ROMEO
I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our times to come.

JULIET
O God, I have an ill-divining soul!
Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb.
Either my eyesight fails, or thou lookest pale.

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

JULIET
O Fortune, Fortune! All men call thee fickle.
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renowned for faith? Be fickle, Fortune,
For then I hope thou wilt not keep him long
But send him back.
She goes down from the window
Enter Juliet's mother

LADY CAPULET
Ho, daughter! Are you up?

JULIET
Who is't that calls? It is my lady mother.
Is she not down so late, or up so early?
What unaccustomed cause procures her hither?

LADY CAPULET
Why, how now, Juliet?

JULIET
Madam, I am not well.

LADY CAPULET
Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live.
Therefore have done. Some grief shows much of love;
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

JULIET
Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.

LADY CAPULET
So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend
Which you weep for.

JULIET
Feeling so the loss,
I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.

LADY CAPULET
Well, girl, thou weepest not so much for his death
As that the villain lives which slaughtered him.

JULIET
What villain, madam?

LADY CAPULET
That same villain Romeo.

JULIET
(aside)
Villain and he be many miles asunder. –
God pardon! I do, with all my heart.
And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.

LADY CAPULET
That is because the traitor murderer lives.

JULIET
Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands.
Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!

LADY CAPULET
We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not.
Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,
Where that same banished runagate doth live,
Shall give him such an unaccustomed dram
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company.
And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied.

JULIET
Indeed I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo till I behold him – dead –
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vexed.
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it –
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors
To hear him named and cannot come to him,
To wreak the love I bore my cousin
Upon his body that hath slaughtered him!

LADY CAPULET
Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

JULIET
And joy comes well in such a needy time.
What are they, beseech your ladyship?

LADY CAPULET
Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child:
One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy
That thou expects not nor I looked not for.

JULIET
Madam, in happy time! What day is that?

LADY CAPULET
Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church,
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.

JULIET
Now by Saint Peter's Church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride!
I wonder at this haste, that I must wed
Ere he that should be husband comes to woo.
I pray you tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris. These are news indeed!

LADY CAPULET
Here comes your father. Tell him so yourself,
And see how he will take it at your hands.
Enter Capulet and Nurse

CAPULET
When the sun sets the earth doth drizzle dew,
But for the sunset of my brother's son
It rains downright.
How now? A conduit, girl? What, still in tears?
Evermore showering? In one little body
Thou counterfeitest a bark, a sea, a wind.
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears. The bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood. The winds, thy sighs,
Who, raging with thy tears and they with them,
Without a sudden calm will overset
Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife?
Have you delivered to her our decree?

LADY CAPULET
Ay, sir. But she will none, she gives you thanks.
I would the fool were married to her grave!

CAPULET
Soft! Take me with you, take me with you, wife.
How? Will she none? Doth she not give us thanks?
Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blest,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bride?

JULIET
Not proud you have, but thankful that you have.
Proud can I never be of what I hate,
But thankful even for hate that is meant love.

CAPULET
How, how, how, how, chopped logic? What is this?
‘ Proud ’ – and ‘ I thank you ’ – and ‘ I thank you not ’ –
And yet ‘ not proud ’? Mistress minion you,
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next
To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage!
You tallow-face!

LADY CAPULET
Fie, fie! What, are you mad?

JULIET
Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

CAPULET
Hang thee, young baggage! Disobedient wretch!
I tell thee what – get thee to church a' Thursday
Or never after look me in the face.
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me!
My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest
That God had lent us but this only child.
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her.
Out on her, hilding!

NURSE
God in heaven bless her!
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

CAPULET
And why, my Lady Wisdom? Hold your tongue,
Good Prudence. Smatter with your gossips, go!

NURSE
I speak no treason.

CAPULET
O, God-i-good-e'en!

NURSE
May not one speak?

CAPULET
Peace, you mumbling fool!
Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,
For here we need it not.

LADY CAPULET
You are too hot.

CAPULET
God's bread! It makes me mad.
Day, night; hour, tide, time; work, play;
Alone, in company; still my care hath been
To have her matched. And having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,
Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly trained,
Stuffed, as they say, with honourable parts,
Proportioned as one's thought would wish a man –
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
To answer ‘ I'll not wed, I cannot love;
I am too young, I pray you pardon me ’!
But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you!
Graze where you will, you shall not house with me.
Look to't, think on't. I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near. Lay hand on heart. Advise.
An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend.
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets,
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good.
Trust to't. Bethink you. I'll not be forsworn.
Exit Capulet

JULIET
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds
That sees into the bottom of my grief?
O sweet my mother, cast me not away!
Delay this marriage for a month, a week.
Or if you do not, make the bridal bed
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.

LADY CAPULET
Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word.
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.
Exit Lady Capulet

JULIET
O God! – O Nurse, how shall this be prevented?
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven.
How shall that faith return again to earth
Unless that husband send it me from heaven
By leaving earth? Comfort me, counsel me.
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
Upon so soft a subject as myself!
What sayest thou? Hast thou not a word of joy?
Some comfort, Nurse.

NURSE
Faith, here it is.
Romeo is banished; and all the world to nothing
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you.
Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
I think it best you married with the County.
O, he's a lovely gentleman!
Romeo's a dishclout to him. An eagle, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye
As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
I think you are happy in this second match,
For it excels your first; or if it did not,
Your first is dead – or 'twere as good he were
As living here and you no use of him.

JULIET
Speakest thou from thy heart?

NURSE
And from my soul too. Else beshrew them both.

JULIET
Amen!

NURSE
What?

JULIET
Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
Go in; and tell my lady I am gone,
Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell,
To make confession and to be absolved.

NURSE
Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
Exit Nurse

JULIET
Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
Which she hath praised him with above compare
So many thousand times? Go, counsellor!
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.
I'll to the Friar to know his remedy.
If all else fail, myself have power to die.
Exit
SHAKESPEARE'S WORDS © 2020 DAVID CRYSTAL & BEN CRYSTAL