Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice : I am not I, if there be such an I; Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, I. Brief sounds determine of my weal, or woe. Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, God save the mark !—here, on his manly breast : Jul. O break, my heart!-poor bankrupt, break at once! To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary? Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished. Jul. O God!-did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did. Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb ! Just opposite to what thou justly seem❜st, So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell Nurse. There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd, Shame come to Romeo! Jul. Blister'd be thy tongue, For such a wish! he was not born to shame : Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd O, what a beast was I to chide at him! Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin? Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth* thy name, When I, thy three hours' wife, have mangled it :But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin 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 slain my hus band: All this is comfort; Wherefore weep I then? Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds : Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts +. Tybalt's death * To smooth, in ancient language, is to stroke, to caress. Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship, Which modern* lamentation might have mov'd? Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, In that word's death; no words can that woe sound. Where is my father, and my mother, nurse? Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse : Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? mine shall be spent, When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. He made you for a highway to my bed; Come, cords; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed; Jul. O find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Friar Laurence's cell. Enter Friar Laurence and Romeo. Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man: Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity. Rom. Father, what news? what is the prince's What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, Fri. Too familiar Is my dear son with such sour company: I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom. Rom. What less than doom's-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, say-death: For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death: do not say-banishment. Hence banished is banish'd from the world, Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog, And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, Rom. O, thou wilt speak again on banishment. Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished. Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, * Worth, value. |