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Give me my Romeo, and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heav'n so fine,
That all the world shall be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish fun.
O, I have bought the mangon of a love,
But not possess'd it; and though I am fold,
Not yet enjoy'd; fo 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!
Enter Nurse with cords.
And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks
But Romeo's name, speaks heav'nly eloquence ;
Now, nurse, what news? what hart thou there?
The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch ? :

Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords.
Jul. Ay me, what news ?

're Why dost thou wring thy hands ? Nurse. Ah welladay, he's dead, he's dead, he's

dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone." Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead.

Jul. Can heaven be so envious ?

Nurse. Romeo can,
Though heay'n cannot. O Romeo! Romea !
Who ever would have thought it, Romeo ? :
Jul. What devil art thou, that dost' torment me

thus ?
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo flain himself? fay ibou but, I;
And that bare vowel, I, shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,
(God save the mark,) here on bis manly breast.
A piteous coarse, a bloody piteous coarse ;.
Pale, pale as alhes, all bedawb'd in blood,

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All in gore blood; I swooned at the fight
Jul. O break, my heart-poor bankrupt, break

at once !
To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty:
Vile earth to earth resign, and motion here,
And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!

Nurse. Tybalt, Zybalt, the best friend I had :
O courteous Tybalt, honeft gentleman,
That ever I fhould live to see thee dead ! :

Jul. What form is this, that blows fo contrary!
Is Romeo slaughter'd ? and is Tybalt dead ?
My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord ?
Then let the trumpet found the general Doom,
For who is living, if those two are gone? C!.

Nurse. Tybalt is dead; and Romea banilhed, Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished. Jul. O God! did Romeo's hand (hed Tybalt's

blood ? Nurse. It did, it did, alas, the day! it did. ful. O serpent-heart, hid with a flow'ring face ! Did ever dragon keep, so fair a cave?, Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical ! Ravenous Dove, feather'd Raven! Wolvilh-raven,

ing Lamb!
Despised substance, of divineft show !
Just opposite to what thou jully seem'ft,
A damned Saint, an honourable villain !
O pature ! 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 honelty, in men; all purjurid;
All, all forsworn; all naught;' and all dissemblers.
Ah, where's my man? give me fome Aqua vita
These griefs, these woes, these forrows make me old !

Shame

Shame come to Romeo !

Jul. Blister'd be thy tongue, For such a wish! he was not borne to shame; Upon his brow shame is alham'd to fit: For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth.. O, what a beast was I to chide him fo ? Nurse. Will you speak well of him, that kill'd your

cousin ? Jul. Shall I speak ill of him, that is my huband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy

name, When I, thy three-hours-wife, have mangled it! But wherefore, villain, didit 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 flain; And Tybali's dead, that would have kill'd my husband; All this is comfort ; wherefore weep I then ? Some word there was, worser 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 banish'd! That banished, that one word banished, Hath flain ten thousand Tybalts: Tybali's death Was woe enough, if it had ended there: Or if sour woe delights in fellowship, And needly will be rank'd with other griefs, Why follow'd not, when she said, Tybali's dead, Thy Father or thy Mother, nay, or both ? But with a rear-ward following Tyball's death, Romeo is banished to speak that word, Is, father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All flain, all dead !-Romeo is banished! 3 There is no end, no lirnit, measure, bound,

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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 coarse. 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. Take up those . Cords ; — poor Ropes, you are

beguil'd; Both You and I; for Romeo is exil'd. He made You for a high-way to my Bed : But I, a maid, die Maiden widowed. Come, Cord; 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.

Jid. Oh find him, give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come, to take his last farewel. Exeunt.

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Changes to the Monastery.

Enter Friar. Lawrence and Romeo. Fri. RoME 0, come forth; come forth; thou

fearful man ; ! Ami&tion is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity: Rom. Father, whạt' news ? what is the Prince's

doom? What forrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not ?

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.

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

Ron. Ha, banilhment! be merciful, say, death ; For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death. Do not fay, banishment.

Fri. Here from Verona art tbou banished: Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.?

Rom. There is no world without Verona's walls, + But purgatory, Tartar, Hell itself. Hence banished, is banish'd from the world; And world-exil'd, is death. That banished Is death mif-termed: calling death banishment, Thou cut'st my head off with a golden ax, And smil'lt upon the stroke that murders me.

Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness? Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind Prince, Taking thy part, hath rusht aside the law, And turn'd that black word death to banishment. This is dear mercy, and thou seeft it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heav'n is here
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Lives here in heaven, and may look on her;
But Romneo 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 hand,
And steal immortal bleslings from her lips ;
(Which even in pure and vestal modesty
Suill blush, as thinking their own killes fin.)
This may flies do, when I from this must fly;

* A gentler judgment varith'd form his lips,] Without Doubt, Shakespear wroie, -A gentler judgment even'd from his lips, i. c. came equitably froin his Lips.

Warb. + Bul purgatory, torturc, hell itself. 1 Place is the Subje& here spoken of, as appears from the preceding Words, There is no World, Lic. I think therefore that Shakespear wrote, But Purgatory, Tartar, Hell itself.

Warb

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