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Scene III.—The Same. FRIAR
LAURENCE'S Cell.
Enter FRIAR LAURENCE.
Fri. L. Romeo, come forth; come
forth, thou
fearful man:
Affliction is enamour'd
of thy parts,
And thou art wedded to
calamity.
Enter ROMEO.
Rom. Father, what news?
what is the
prince's doom?
what sorrow craves
acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know
not?
Fri. L. 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. L. 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 'banish-
ment.'
Fri. L. Hence from Verona
art thou banished.
Be patient, for the world, is
broad and wide.
Rom.
There is no world without
Verona
walls,
But purgatory, torture, bell itself.
Hence banished is banish'd from. the world,
And
world's exile is death; then 'banished,'
Is death
mis-term'd Calling death 'banished,'
Thou cutt'st my
head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the
stroke that murders me,
Fri. L. 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 banish-
ment:
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;
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 handy
And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
Who,
even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as
thinking their own kisses sin;
Flies may do this, but
I from this must fly:
They are free men, but I am
banished.
And sayst 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;
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 'banished?'
Fri. L. Thou
fond mad man, hear me but
speak a
word.
Rom. O! thou wilt
speak again of banishment.
Fri. L. I'll
give thee armour to keep off that
word;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort
thee, though thou art banished.
Rom.
Yet' banished!' Hang up philosophy I
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a
town, reverse a prince's doom,
It helps not, it
prevails not: talk no more.
Fri. L. O!
then I see that madmen have no
ears.
Rom. How should they,
when that wise men
have no eyes?
Fri. L.
Let me dispute with thee of
thy
estate.
Rom. 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.
[Knocking within.
Fri. L.
Arise; one knocks: good Romeo,
hide thyself.
Rom. Not I; unless the
breath of heart-sick
groans,
Mist-like, infold me
from the search of eyes.
[Knocking.
Fri. L.
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 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. L.
Welcome, then.
Enter
Nurse.
Nurse. O holy friar! O! tell me,
holy friar,
Where is my lady's lord? where's Romeo?
Fri. L.
There on the ground, with his
own
tears made drunk.
Nurse. O! he
is even in my mistress' case,
Just in her
case!
Fri. L.
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?
Rom.
Nurse!
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. L. 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 that in thy life lives,
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,
To 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 light 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.
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.
Rom.
How well my comfort is reviv'd by
this!
Fri. L. 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.
Rom. But that
a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief so
brief to part with thee:
Farewell.
[Exeunt.