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 'banishment.' |
| 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, hell 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 banishment: |
| 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 hand, |
| 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! |
| 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; goodnight. |
| Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on me, |
| It were a grief so brief to part with thee: |
| Farewell. [Exeunt. |
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