Act III.
Scene III.
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.
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