Imagini ale paginilor
PDF
ePub

Ah, poor my Lord, what tongue shall smooth thy

name,

When I, thy three-hours-wife, have mangled it! But, wherefore, villain, didft thou kill my coufin? That villain coufin would have kill'd my husband. Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Your tributary drops belong to woe,

Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.

My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
And Tybalt's dead, that would have kill'd my huf-
band;

All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
Some word there was, worfer than Tybalt's death,
That murder'd me; I would forget it, fain;
But, oh! it preffes to my memory,

Like damned guilty deeds to finners' minds.
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished!
That banished, that one word banished,

Hath flain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there;
Or if fou'r woe delights in fellowship,
And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,
Why follow'd not, when she said Tybalt's dead,
Thy Father or thy Mother, nay, or both?
'Which modern lamentation might have mov'd:
But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
Romeo is banished- -to fpeak that word,
Is, father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All ain, all dead.!-Romeo is banished!
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
In that word's death; no words can that woe found.

4 Hath flain ten thousand Tybalts.] Hath put Tybalt out of my mind as if out of being.

s Which modern lamentation, &c.] This line is left out of the later editions, I fuppose because

the editors did not remember that Sh kespeare ufes modern for common, or flight: I believe it was in his time confounded in colloquial language with moderate,

Where

[ocr errors]

Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?
Nurfe. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's coarfe.
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? mine fhall
be spent,

When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up thofe Córds;-poor Ropes, you are be-
guil'd;

Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd. bed: He made you for a high-way to my

But I, a maid, die Maiden widowed.

Come, Cord; come, nurfe; I'll to my wedding-Bed: And Death, not Romeo, take my Maidenhead!

Nurfe. Hie to your chamber, I'll find Romeo To comfort you. I wot well, where he is. Hark ye. Your Romeo will be here at night. I'll to him; he is hid at Lawrence' cell.

Jul. Oh find him, give this ring to my true knight.

And bid him come, to take his laft farewel.

[Exeunt.

SCENE v.

Changes to the Monastery.

Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.

OMEO, come forth; come forth, thou

Fri. ROMEO, come forth;

fearful man.

Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,

And thou art wedded to calamity.

Rom. Father, what news? what is the Prince's

doom?

What forrow craves acquaintance at my

hand,

That I yet know not?

Fris

Fri. Too familiar

Is my dear fon with fuch fou'r company.

I bring thee tidings of the Prince's doom?

Rom. What lefs than dooms-day is the Prince's doom?

Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, Not body's death, but body's banishment.

Rom. Ha, banishment! be merciful, fay, death; For exile hath more terror in his look,

Much more than death. Do not fay, banishment. Fri. Here from Verona art thou banished.

Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Rom. There is no world without Verona's walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence banished, is banifh'd from the world;
And world-exil'd, is death. That banishment
Is death mif-term'd, calling death banishment,
Thou cut'ft my head off with a golden ax,
And fmil'ft upon the ftroke that murders me.
Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind Prince,
Taking thy part, hath rufht afide the law,

And turn'd that black word death to banishment.
This is dear mercy, and thou feeft it not.
Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy.

here,
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
And little moufe, every unworthy thing,
Lives 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

6

6 ·More validity,
More bonourable state, more
courtship lives
In carrion flies, than Ro-
meo.-] Validity seems here

Heav'n is

to mean, worth, or dignity; and courtship the ftate of a courtier permitted to approach the higheft prefence.

On

[ocr errors]

On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal bleffings from her lips;
Which ev'n in pure and veftal modefty
Still blufh, as thinking their own kiffes fin.
This may flies do, when I from this must fly;
And fay'st thou yet, that exile is not death?
But Romeo may not;he is banished.

Hadft thou no Poifon mixt, no fharp-ground knife,
No fudden mean of death, tho' ne'er fo mean,
But banished to kill me? banished?

O Friar, the Damned ufe that word in hell:
Howlings attend it: how haft thou the heart,
Being a Divine, a ghoftly Confeffor,

A fin-abfolver, and my friend profeft,
To mangle me with that word, banishment?
Fri. Fond mad-man, hear me fpeak.

Rom. O, thou wilt fpeak again of banishment. Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word, Adverfity's fweet milk, philofophy,

To comfort thee, tho' thou art banished.

Rom. Yet, banished? hang up philofophy: Unless philofophy can make a Juliet,

Difplant a town, reverfe a Prince's doom,

It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more
Fri. O, then I fee that mad-men have no ears.
Rom. How fhould they, when that wife men have
no eyes?

Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy estate.

Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel:

Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,

An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,

Doating like me, and like me banished;

Then might'ft thou speak, then might'ft thou tear thy

hair,

And fall upon the ground as I do now,

Taking the measure of an unmade grave. [Throwing himself on the ground.

Fri. Arife, one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyfelf. [Knock within. Rom. Not I, unless the breath of heart-fick Groans, Mist like, infold me from the Search of Eyes.

[Knock. Fri. Hark, how they knock !-(who's there?)— Romeo, arife.

Thou wilt be taken-(stay a while)--stand up :

Knocks.

[Knock.

Run to my Study-(By and by)-God's will!
What wilfulness is this?-I come, I come.
Who knocks fo hard; whence come you? what's
your will?

Nurfe. Within.] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand :

I come from Lady Juliet.

Fri. Welcome then.

Enter Nurfe.

Nurfe. O holy Friar, oh, tell me, holy Friar, Where is my lady's Lord? where's Romeo?

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

Nurfe. O he is even in my miftrefs' cafe, Juft in her cafe, O woful fympathy! Piteous predicament! ev'n fo lies fhe,

Blubb'ring and weeping, weeping and blubbering. Stand up, ftand up; Stand, an' you be a Man: For Juliet's Sake, for her Sake, rise and stand.

? Why should you fall into fo deep an

Rom. Oh, Nurfe!

Nurfe. Ah Sir! ah Sir!

Death is the end of all.

7 So Hanmer. The other editions read, Why should you fall into jo deep an ob?

Rm.

« ÎnapoiContinuă »