Romeo and Juliet

Romeo and Juliet

ACT III SCENE III	Friar Laurence's cell.
	Enter FRIAR LAURENCE
FRIAR LAURENCE	Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man:
	Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
	And thou art wedded to calamity.
	Enter ROMEO
ROMEO	Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?	5
	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.	10
ROMEO	What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom?
FRIAR LAURENCE	A gentler judgment vanish'd 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,	15
	Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'
FRIAR LAURENCE	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.	20
	Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
	And world's exile is death: then banished,
	Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment,
	Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
	And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.	25
FRIAR LAURENCE	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.	30
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,	35
	More honourable state, more courtship lives
	In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize
	On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
	And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
	Who even in pure and vestal modesty,	40
	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?	45
	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,	50
	Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
	A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
	To mangle me with that word 'banished'?
FRIAR LAURENCE	Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.
ROMEO	O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.	55
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,	60
	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.	65
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,	70
	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.	75
	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?	80
Nurse	Within
	my errand;
	I come from Lady Juliet.
FRIAR LAURENCE	Welcome, then.
	Enter Nurse
Nurse	O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
	Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?	85
FRIAR LAURENCE	There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.
Nurse	O, he is even in my mistress' case,
	Just in her case! O woful sympathy!
	Piteous predicament! Even so lies she,
	Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.	90
	Stand up, stand up; stand, and 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	Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.	95
ROMEO	Spakest 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 removed but little from her own?
	Where is she? and how doth she? and what says	100
	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.	105
ROMEO	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	110
	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	115
	The unreasonable fury of a beast:
	Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
	Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
	Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order,
	I thought thy disposition better temper'd.	120
	Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
	And stay thy lady too that lives in thee,
	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	125
	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:	130
	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,	135
	Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
	Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask,
	Is set afire by thine own ignorance,
	And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
	What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,	140
	For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
	There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
	But thou slew'st Tybalt; there are thou happy too:
	The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend
	And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:	145
	A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back;
	Happiness courts thee in her best array;
	But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,
	Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
	Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.	150
	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	155
	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;	160
	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!	165
	My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
ROMEO	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
ROMEO	How well my comfort is revived by this!	170
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	175
	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