Romeo and Juliet (20 page)

Lady Capulet.
He is a kinsman to the Montague;
Affection makes him false, he speaks not true.
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life.
I beg for justice, which thou, Prince, must give.
Romeo slew Tybalt; Romeo must not live.

Prince.
Romeo slew him; he slew Mercutio.
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?

Capulet.
Not Romeo, Prince; he was Mercutio’s friend;
His fault concludes but what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.

Prince.
And for that offense
Immediately we do exile him hence.
I have an interest in your hate’s proceeding,
My blood° for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding;
But I’ll amerce° you with so strong a fine
That you shall all repent the loss of mine.
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;
Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses.
Therefore use none. Let Romeo hence in haste,
Else, when he is found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body and attend our will.°
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.

Exit
[
with others
].

 

Juliet.
Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,°
Towards Phoebus’ lodging!° Such a wagoner
As Phaëton° would whip you to the west
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
That runaways’° eyes may wink,° and Romeo
Leap to these arms untalked of and unseen.
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites,
And by their own beauties; or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,
Thou sober-suited matron all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Played for a pair of stainless maidenhoods.
Hood° my unmanned° blood, bating° in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle till strange° love grow bold,
Think true love acted simple modesty.
Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in
night;
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back.
Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed
night;
Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possessed it; and though I am sold,
Not yet enjoyed. So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,

And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks
But Romeo’s name speaks heavenly eloquence.

Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there, the
cords
That Romeo bid thee fetch?

Nurse.
Ay, ay, the cords.

Juliet.
Ay me! What news? Why dost thou wring thy
hands?

Nurse.
Ah, weraday!° He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead!
We are undone, lady, we are undone!
Alack the day! He’s gone, he’s killed, he’s dead!

Juliet.
Can heaven be so envious?

Nurse.
Romeo can,
Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo!
Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!

Juliet.
What devil art thou that dost torment me thus?
This torture should be roared in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but “Ay,”
And that bare vowel “I” shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.°
I am not I, if there be such an “Ay,”°
Or those eyes’ shot° that makes thee answer “Ay.”
If he be slain, say “Ay”; or if not, “No.”
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.
A piteous corse,° a bloody piteous corse;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaubed in blood,
All in gore-blood. I sounded° at the sight.

Juliet.
O, break, my heart! Poor bankrout,° break at
once!
To prison, eyes; ne’er look on liberty!

Vile earth,° to earth resign° end motion here,
And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!

Nurse.
O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt! Honest gentleman!
That ever I should live to see thee dead!

Juliet.
What storm is this that blows so contrary?
Is Romeo slaught’red, and is Tybalt dead?
My dearest cousin, and my dearer lord?
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!°
For who is living, if those two are gone?

Nurse.
Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banishèd;
Romeo that killed him, he is banishèd.

Juliet.
O God! Did Romeo’s hand shed Tybalt’s
blood?

Nurse.
It did, it did! Alas the day, it did!

Juliet.
O serpent heart, hid with a flow’ring face!
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
Beautiful tyrant! Fiend angelical!
Dove-feathered raven! Wolvish-ravening lamb!
Despisèd substance of divinest show!
Just opposite to what thou justly seem’st—
A damnèd saint, an honorable villain!
O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh?
Was ever book containing such vile matter
So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace!
Nurse.
There’s no trust,
No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
Ah, where’s my man? Give me some
aqua vitae
.°
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me
old.

Shame come to Romeo!

Juliet
Blistered be thy tongue
For such a wish! He was not born to shame.
Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit;
For ’tis a throne where honor may be crowned
Sole monarch of the universal earth.
O, what a beast was I to chide at him!

Nurse.
Will you speak well of him that killed your
cousin?

Juliet.
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 killed 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?
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt’s death,
That murd’red me. I would forget it fain;
But O, it presses to my memory
Like damnèd guilty deeds to sinners’ minds!
“Tybalt is dead, and Romeo—banishèd.”
That “banishèd,” that one word “banishèd,”
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt’s death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there;
Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship
And needly will be ranked with° other griefs,
Why followed not, when she said “Tybalt’s dead,”

Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
Which modern° lamentation might have moved?
But with a rearward° following Tybalt’s death,
“Romeo is banishèd”—to speak that word
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All slain, all dead. “Romeo is banishèd”—
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
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.

Juliet.
Wash they his wounds with tears? Mine shall be
spent,
When theirs are dry, for Romeo’s banishment.
Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguiled,
Both you and I, for Romeo is exiled.
He made you for a highway to my bed;
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowèd.
Come, cords; come, nurse. I’ll to my wedding bed;
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!

Nurse.
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.

Juliet.
O, find him! Give this ring to my true knight
And bid him come to take his last farewell.

Exit
[
with Nurse
].

Enter Friar
[
Lawrence
].

Friar.
Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful°
man.
Affliction is enamored 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.
Too familiar
Is my dear son with such sour company.
I bring thee tidings of the Prince’s doom.

Romeo.
What less than doomsday° is the Prince’s
doom?

Friar.
A gentler judgment 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.
Here from Verona art thou banishèd.
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Romeo.
There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence banishèd is banished from the world,
And world’s exile is death. Then “banishèd”
Is death mistermed. Calling death “banishèd,”
Thou cut’st my head off with a golden ax
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.

Friar.
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 “banish-
ment.”
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 honorable 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 banishèd.
Flies may do this but I from this must fly;
They are freemen, but I am banishèd.
And sayest thou yet that exile is not death?
Hadst thou no poison mixture, no sharp-ground
knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne’er so mean,°
But “banishèd” to kill me—“banishèd”?
O friar, the damnèd 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 “banishèd”?

Friar.
Thou fond° mad man, hear me a little speak.

Romeo.
O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

Friar.
I’ll give thee armor to keep off that word;
Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banishèd.

Romeo.
Yet° “banishèd”? 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.
O, then I see that madmen have no ears.

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

Friar.
Let me dispute° with thee of thy estate.°