Friar Laurence

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 Laurence

Too familiar

Is my dear son with such sour company:

I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

Romeo

What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom?

Friar Laurence

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 Laurence

Here 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 mis-termed: calling death banished,

Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,

And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.

Friar Laurence

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;

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

And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?

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;

Howling 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 Laurence

Thou fond mad man, hear me a little speak.

Romeo

O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

Friar Laurence

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 Laurence

O, then I see that madmen have no ears.

Romeo

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

Friar Laurence

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. Knocking within.

Friar Laurence

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. Knocking.

Friar Laurence

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 simpleness is this! I come, I come! Knocking.

Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?

Nurse to Juliet

Within

Let me come in, and you shall know my errand;

I come from Lady Juliet.

Friar Laurence

Welcome, then. Enter Nurse.

Nurse to Juliet

O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,

Where's my lady's lord, where's Romeo?

Friar Laurence

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

Nurse to Juliet

O, he is even in my mistress's 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?

Romeo

Nurse!

Nurse to Juliet

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 to Juliet

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. Drawing his sword,

Friar Laurence

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 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 shamest 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 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 slew'st 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 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 to Juliet

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.

Nurse to Juliet

Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:

Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. Exit.

Romeo

How well my comfort is revived by this!

Friar Laurence

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.