Cold death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tibalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it : Romeo, he cries aloud,
Hold, friends, friends, part ! and, swifter than his

tongue,
His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
And 'twixt them rushes, underneath whose arm
An envious thrust from Tibalt hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tibalt fled;
But by and by comes back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
And to't they go like lightning : for ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tibalt slain :
And, as he fell, did Romeo turn to fly :
This is the truth, or let Benvolio suffer.

Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montagues, Affection makes him false ; he speaks not true ; I beg for justice, justice, gracious Prince ! Romeo slew Tibalt: Romeo must not live.

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

Mon. Romeo but took the forfeit life of Tibalt.

Prince. And we, for that offence, do banish him. I have an interest in your heady brawls ; My blood doth flow from brave Mercutio's wounds, But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine, That you shall all repent my loss in him, I will be deaf to pleading and excuse, Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase our repeal : Therefore use none, let Romeo begone, Else, when he is found, that hour is his last.

Ereunt,

SCENE II.

An Apartment in CAPULET's House.

Enter JULIET alone. Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery footed steeds, To Phæbus' mansion ; such a waggoner As Phaeton, would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately. Spread thy close curtain, love performing night, That the run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen, Come night, come Romeo ! Come thou day in night! For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night, Whiter than snow upon the raven's back : Give me my Romeo, night, and when he dies, 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. Oh, here comes my Nurse;

Enter NURSE. And she brings news, and every tongue that speaks But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence, Now, Nurse, what news ? Why dost thou wring thy hands? Nurse. Ah well-a-day, he's dead, he's dead, he's

dead ! We are undone, lady, we are undone

Jul. Can Heaven be so envious ?

Nurse. Romeo can, Though Heaven cannot. Oh ! Romeo ! Romeo ! Jul. What deyil art thou, that dost torment me

thus ?

This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell,
Hath Romeo slain himself?

say

thou but ay, And that bare little word shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it, with mine eyes,
Here on his manly breast.- A piteous corse,
A bloody, piteous corse, pale, pale as ashes,
I swooned at the sight.
Jul. Oh, break, my heart !--poor bankrupt, 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. Oh, Tibalt, Tibalt, the best friend I had ; That ever I should live to see thee dead !

Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter’d? and is Tibalt dead ?

Nurse. Tibalt is dead, and Romeo banished:
Jul. Banished ! is Romeo banished ?
Nurse. Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished.
Jul. Oh! Heaven ! Did Romeo's hand shed Ti-

balt's blood ?
Nurse. It did, it did ; alas the day, it did !

Jul. Oh, nature ! What hadst thou to do in hell, When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ? Oh that de

ceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace !

Nurse. There is 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
Sole monarch of the universal earth.
Oh what a wretch was I to chide him so !

my

Nurse. Will you speak well of him, that kill'd your

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

name,
When I thy three hours wife have mangled it?
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 Tibalt would have slain,
And Tibalt's dead, thatwould have kill'd my hus-

band ;
All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then ?
Some word there was worser than Tibalt's death,
That murder'd me; I would forget it fain,
But, ob, it presses to my memory,
Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds ;
Tibalt is dead, and Romeo banished,
That banished, that one word banished,
Hath slain ten thousand Tibalts. In that word
Is father, mother, Tibalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All slain, all dead!
Where is my father, and my mother, Nurse?

Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tibalt's corse :
Will you go to them ? I will bring you thither.
Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears ! my eyes

shall flow, When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.

Nurse. I'll find Romeo, To comfort you,

I wot well where he is; He is hid at Lawrence' cell.

Jul. Oh find him, give this ring to my true lord, And bid him come to take his last farewell.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Monastery.

Enter FriAR LAWRENCE 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

doom?
What sorrow 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 death can be 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 ter or in his look, Much more than death : Do not say, banishment; 'Tis death mis-term'd : calling death banishment, Thou cutt'st my head off, with a golden axe, And smil'st upon the stroke, that murders me.

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

Rom. "Tis torture, and not mercy : Heav'n is here, Where Juliet lives. There's more felicity