(And fay'ft 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 use that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: how hadft 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 speak..

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

To comfort thee, tho' thou art banished.
Rom. Yet, banished? hang up philosophy :
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 should they, when that wife men have
no eyes?

Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy eftate.

Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou doft 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 fpeak, 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, unlcfs the breath of heart fick

Groans,

Mift-like, infold me from the Search of Eyes. [Knock.

Fri. Hark, how they knock !-(who's there?)—
Romeo, arife.
Thou wilt be taken (flay a while)ftand up;
[Knocks.

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

Nurfe. [Within] Let me come in, and you fhall 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! even 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, rife and stand.
Why should you fall into fo deep an oh!-
Rom. Nurfe!.

Nurfe. Ah Sir! ah Sir!-Death is the end of all.
Rom. Speak'ft thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth not the think me an old murderer,
Now I have flain'd the child-hood of our joy
With blood, remov'd but little from her own?
Where is he? and how does she? and what fays
* My confeal'd lady to our cancell'd love?

My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?] An Antithefis or Oppofition was here intended: But what Oppofition is there between conceal'd and cancell'd? Befides, he was not conceal'd tho' he was. We fhould read, -My conceal'd, lady to our cancell'd love? And then the Opposition is evident, and the Sense exact.

Warb.

Nurfe.

Nurfe. O, fhe fays nothing, Sir; but weeps and weeps And now falls on her bed, and then starts up;

And Tybalt cries, and then on Romeo calls,
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 curfed hand

Murder'd her kinfman..

In what vile part of this

-Tell me, Friar, tell

me,

anatomy

Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may fack

The hateful manfion.

Fri. Hold thy desperate hand:

[Drawing his Sword.

Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote
Th' unreasonable fury of a beast.

*Unfeemly Woman in a feeming Man!
An ill-befeeming Beaft in feeming Groth!
Thou haft amaz'd me. By my holy Order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Haft thou flain Tybalt? wilt thou flay thyfelf?
And flay thy lady, that in thy life lives,
By doing damned Hate upon thyfelf?

[Earth, Why rail'ft thou on thy Birth, the Heaven, and Unfeemly Woman in a feeming Man!

And ill befeeming Beast in fecming both!] This ftrange Nonsense Mr. Pope threw out of his Edition for desperate. But it is cafily re

ftored as Shakespear wrote it into good pertinent Senfe.

Unfeemly Woman in a feeming Man!

An ill befeeming Beaft in feeming groth!

i. e. You have the ill befeeming Paffions of a Brute Beaft in the wellfeeming Shape of a Rational Creature.

Why rail'ft thou on thy Birth, the Heav'n and Earth,
Since Birth, and Heav'n, and Earth, all three do meet,

Warb.

In thee at once, which thou at once would't lofe ?] These were again thrown out by Mr. Pope, and for the fame Reafon: But they are eafily fet right, We fhould read,

Since Birth, and Heav'n, and Earth, all three fo meet,

In thee atone; which then at once would lofe.

i. e. Why rail you at your Birth, and at Heaven, and Earth, which are all fo meet, or aufpicious to you: And all three your Friends, [all three in thee atone] and yet you would lose them all by one rash Stroke

Warb.

Since Birth, and Heav'n, and Earth, all three fo

meet,

In thee atone; which Thou at once would'ft lofe?
Fie! fie! thou fham'ft thy Shape, thy Love, thy Wit,
Which, like an Ufurer, abound'ft in all,
And useft none in that true use indeed, [Wit.
Which fhould bedeck thy Shape, thy Love, thy
Thy noble Shape is but a Form of Wax,
Digreffing from the Valour of a Man

1;

Thy dear Love fworn, but hollow Perjury,
Killing that Love, which thou haft vow'd to cherish.
Thy Wit, that Ornament to Shape and Love,
Mif-fhapen in the Conduct of them Both,
Like Powder in a fkill-lefs Soldier's Flask,
Is fet on Fire by thine own Ignorance,
And thou difmember'd with thine own Defence.
What, roufe thee, man, thy Juliet is alive,
For whofe dear fake thou waft but lately dead:
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou flew'ft Tybalt; there thou'rt happy too.
The law, that threatned death, became thy friend,
And turn'd it to exile; there art thou happy;
A pack of bleffings light upon thy back,
Happiness courts thee in her best array.
But, like a misbehav'd and fullen wench,
Thou pout'ft upon thy fortune and thy love.
Take heed, take heed, for fuch die miferable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Afcend her chamber, hence and comfort her:
But, look, thou stay not 'till the Watch be fet;
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua:
Where thou fhalt live, 'till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy,
Than thou went'ft forth in lamentation.
Go before, nurfe; commend me to thy lady,
And bid her haften all the house to bed,
Ꮧ

Whcih

Which heavy forrow makes them apt unto.

Romeo is coming.

[long,

Nurfe. O lord, I could have flaid here all night To hear good counfel: oh, what Learning is! My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

Rom. Do fo, and bid my Sweet prepare to chide. Nurfe. Here, Sir, a ring the bid me give you, Sir: Hie you, make hafte, for it grows very late.

Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this! Fri. Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man, And he shall fignify from time to time Every good hap to you, that chances here: Give me thy hand, 'tis late, farewel, good-night. Rom. But that a joy, paft joy, calls out on me, It were a grief, fo brief to part with thee. [Exeunt.

Changes to Capulet's House.

Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.
HINGS have fallen out, Sir, fo unluckily,

Cap. T That we have had no time to move our
Τ

daughter:

Look you, the lov'd her kinfman Tybalt dearly,
And fo did I.-Well, we were born to die.-
'Tis very late, fhe'll not come down to-night.
I promise you, but for your Company,
I would have been a bed an hour ago.

Par. These times of woe afford no time to woo: Madam, good-night; commend me to your daughter. La. Cap. I will, and know her Mind early to

morrow:

To-night he's mew'd up to her heaviness.

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a feparate tender

Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender

Of my child's love:] This was but an indifferent Compliment both to Sir Paris and his Daughter. As if there were small Hopes of her ever proving good for any Thing. We fhould read,

Sir Paris, I will make a separate tender.

Warb.

Of