Chapter 140

Nur. Iesu what hast? can you not stay a while? Do you not see that I am out of breath? Iul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breth To say to me, that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay, Is longer then the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy newes good or bad? answere to that, Say either, and Ile stay the circumstance: Let me be satisfied, ist good or bad? Nur. Well, you haue made a simple choice, you know not how to chuse a man: Romeo, no not he though his face be better then any mans, yet his legs excels all mens, and for a hand, and a foote, and a body, though they be not to be talkt on, yet they are past compare: he is not the flower of curtesie, but Ile warrant him as gentle a Lambe: go thy waies wench, serue God. What haue you din'd at home? Iul. No no: but all this did I know before What saies he of our marriage? what of that? Nur. Lord how my head akes, what a head haue I? It beates as it would fall in twenty peeces. My backe a tother side: o my backe, my backe: Beshrew your heart for sending me about To catch my death with iaunting vp and downe

Iul. Ifaith: I am sorrie that thou art so well. Sweet sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me what saies my Loue? Nur. Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, And I warrant a vertuous: where is your Mother? Iul. Where is my Mother? Why she is within, where should she be? How odly thou repli'st: Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman: Where is your Mother? Nur. O Gods Lady deare, Are you so hot? marrie come vp I trow, Is this the Poultis for my aking bones? Henceforward do your messages your selfe

Iul. Heere's such a coile, come what saies Romeo? Nur. Haue you got leaue to go to shift to day? Iul. I haue

Nur. Then high you hence to Frier Lawrence Cell, There staies a Husband to make you a wife: Now comes the wanton bloud vp in your cheekes, Thei'le be in Scarlet straight at any newes: Hie you to Church, I must an other way, To fetch a Ladder by the which your Loue Must climde a birds nest Soone when it is darke: I am the drudge, and toile in your delight: But you shall beare the burthen soone at night. Go Ile to dinner, hie you to the Cell

Iul. Hie to high Fortune, honest Nurse, farewell.

Exeunt.

Enter Frier and Romeo.

Fri. So smile the heauens vpon this holy act, That after houres, with sorrow chide vs not

Rom. Amen, amen, but come what sorrow can, It cannot counteruaile the exchange of ioy That one short minute giues me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words. Then Loue-deuouring death do what he dare, It is inough. I may call her mine

Fri. These violent delights haue violent endes, And in their triumph: die like fire and powder; Which as they kisse consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his owne deliciousnesse, And in the taste confoundes the appetite. Therefore Loue moderately, long Loue doth so, Too swift arriues as tardie as too slow. Enter Iuliet.

Here comes the Lady. Oh so light a foot Will nere weare out the euerlasting flint, A Louer may bestride the Gossamours, That ydles in the wanton Summer ayre, And yet not fall, so light is vanitie

Iul. Good euen to my ghostly Confessor

Fri. Romeo shall thanke thee Daughter for vs both

Iul. As much to him, else in his thanks too much

Fri. Ah Iuliet, if the measure of thy ioy Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more To blason it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour ayre, and let rich musickes tongue, Vnfold the imagin'd happinesse that both Receiue in either, by this deere encounter

Iul. Conceit more rich in matter then in words, Brags of his substance, not of Ornament: They are but beggers that can count their worth, But my true Loue is growne to such excesse, I cannot sum vp some of halfe my wealth

Fri. Come, come with me, & we will make short worke, For by your leaues, you shall not stay alone, Till holy Church incorporate two in one. Enter Mercutio, Benuolio, and men.

Ben. I pray thee good Mercutio lets retire, The day is hot, the Capulets abroad: And if we meet, we shal not scape a brawle, for now these hot dayes, is the mad blood stirring

Mer. Thou art like one of these fellowes, that when he enters the confines of a Tauerne, claps me his Sword vpon the Table, and sayes, God send me no need of thee: and by the operation of the second cup, drawes him on the Drawer, when indeed there is no need

Ben. Am I like such a Fellow? Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Iacke in thy mood, as any in Italie: and assoone moued to be moodie, and assoone moodie to be mou'd

Ben. And what too? Mer. Nay, and there were two such, we should haue none shortly, for one would kill the other: thou, why thou wilt quarrell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire lesse in his beard, then thou hast: thou wilt quarrell with a man for cracking Nuts, hauing no other reason, but because thou hast hasell eyes: what eye, but such an eye, would spie out such a quarrell? thy head is full of quarrels, as an egge is full of meat, and yet thy head hath bin beaten as addle as an egge for quarreling: thou hast quarrel'd with a man for coffing in the street, because he hath wakened thy Dog that hath laine asleepe in the Sun. Did'st thou not fall out with a Tailor for wearing his new Doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shooes with old Riband, and yet thou wilt Tutor me from quarrelling? Ben. And I were so apt to quarell as thou art, any man should buy the Fee-simple of my life, for an houre and a quarter

Mer. The Fee-simple? O simple. Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.

Ben. By my head here comes the Capulets

Mer. By my heele I care not

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speake to them. Gentlemen, Good den, a word with one of you

Mer. And but one word with one of vs? couple it with something, make it a word and a blow

Tib. You shall find me apt inough to that sir, and you will giue me occasion

Mercu. Could you not take some occasion without giuing? Tib. Mercutio thou consort'st with Romeo

Mer. Consort? what dost thou make vs Minstrels? & thou make Minstrels of vs, looke to heare nothing but discords: heere's my fiddlesticke, heere's that shall make you daunce. Come consort

Ben. We talke here in the publike haunt of men, Either withdraw vnto some priuate place, Or reason coldly of your greeuances: Or else depart, here all eies gaze on vs

Mer. Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no mans pleasure I. Enter Romeo.

Tib. Well peace be with you sir, here comes my man

Mer. But Ile be hang'd sir if he weare your Liuery. Marry go before to field, heele be your follower, Your worship in that sense, may call him man

Tib. Romeo, the loue I beare thee, can affoord No better terme then this: Thou art a Villaine

Rom. Tibalt, the reason that I haue to loue thee, Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting: Villaine am I none; Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not

Tib. Boy, this shall not excuse the iniuries That thou hast done me, therefore turne and draw

Rom. I do protest I neuer iniur'd thee, But lou'd thee better then thou can'st deuise: Till thou shalt know the reason of my loue, And so good Capulet, which name I tender As dearely as my owne, be satisfied

Mer. O calme, dishonourable, vile submission: Alla stucatho carries it away. Tybalt, you Rat-catcher, will you walke? Tib. What wouldst thou haue with me? Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine liues, that I meane to make bold withall, and as you shall vse me hereafter dry beate the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your Sword out of his Pilcher by the eares? Make hast, least mine be about your eares ere it be out

Tib. I am for you

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier vp

Mer. Come sir, your Passado

Rom. Draw Benuolio, beat downe their weapons: Gentlemen, for shame forbeare this outrage, Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince expresly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streetes. Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio.

Exit Tybalt.

Mer. I am hurt. A plague a both the Houses, I am sped: Is he gone and hath nothing? Ben. What art thou hurt? Mer. I, I, a scratch, a scratch, marry 'tis inough, Where is my Page? go Villaine fetch a Surgeon

Rom. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much

Mer. No: 'tis not so deepe as a well, nor so wide as a Church doore, but 'tis inough, 'twill serue: aske for me to morrow, and you shall find me a graue man. I am pepper'd I warrant, for this world: a plague a both your houses. What, a Dog, a Rat, a Mouse, a Cat to scratch a man to death: a Braggart, a Rogue, a Villaine, that fights by the booke of Arithmeticke, why the deu'le came you betweene vs? I was hurt vnder your arme

Rom. I thought all for the best

Mer. Helpe me into some house Benuolio, Or I shall faint: a plague a both your houses. They haue made wormesmeat of me, I haue it, and soundly to your Houses. Enter.

Rom. This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie, My very Friend hath got his mortall hurt In my behalfe, my reputation stain'd With Tibalts slaunder, Tybalt that an houre Hath beene my Cozin: O Sweet Iuliet, Thy Beauty hath made me Effeminate, And in my temper softned Valours steele. Enter Benuolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, braue Mercutio's is dead, That Gallant spirit hath aspir'd the Cloudes, Which too vntimely here did scorne the earth

Rom. This daies blacke Fate, on mo daies depend, This but begins, the wo others must end. Enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the Furious Tybalt backe againe

Rom. He gon in triumph, and Mercutio slaine? Away to heauen respectiue Lenitie, And fire and Fury, be my conduct now. Now Tybalt take the Villaine backe againe That late thou gau'st me, for Mercutios soule Is but a little way aboue our heads, Staying for thine to keepe him companie: Either thou or I, or both, must goe with him

Tib. Thou wretched Boy that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence

Rom. This shall determine that.

They fight. Tybalt falles.

Ben. Romeo, away be gone: The Citizens are vp, and Tybalt slaine, Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will Doome thee death If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away

Rom. O! I am Fortunes foole

Ben. Why dost thou stay?

Exit Romeo.

Enter Citizens.

Citi. Which way ran he that kild Mercutio? Tibalt that Murtherer, which way ran he? Ben. There lies that Tybalt

Citi. Vp sir go with me: I charge thee in the Princes names obey. Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their Wiues and all.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this Fray? Ben. O Noble Prince, I can discouer all The vnluckie Mannage of this fatall brall: There lies the man slaine by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman braue Mercutio

Cap. Wi. Tybalt, my Cozin? O my Brothers Child, O Prince, O Cozin, Husband, O the blood is spild Of my deare kinsman. Prince as thou art true, For bloud of ours, shed bloud of Mountague. O Cozin, Cozin

Prin. Benuolio, who began this Fray? Ben. Tybalt here slaine, whom Romeo's hand did slay, Romeo that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke How nice the Quarrell was, and vrg'd withall Your high displeasure: all this vttered, With gentle breath, calme looke, knees humbly bow'd Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene Of Tybalts deafe to peace, but that he Tilts With Peircing steele at bold Mercutio's breast, Who all as hot, turnes deadly point to point, And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand beates Cold death aside, and with the other sends It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, Hold Friends, Friends part, and swifter then his tongue, His aged arme, beats downe their fatall points, And twixt them rushes, vnderneath whose arme, An enuious thrust from Tybalt, hit the life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled. But by and by comes backe to Romeo, Who had but newly entertained Reuenge, And too't they goe like lightning, for ere I Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slaine: And as he fell, did Romeo turne and flie: This is the truth, or let Benuolio die

Cap. Wi. He is a kinsman to the Mountague, Affection makes him false, he speakes not true: Some twenty of them fought in this blacke strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life. I beg for Iustice, which thou Prince must giue: Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not liue

Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio, Who now the price of his deare blood doth owe

Cap. Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutios Friend, His fault concludes, but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt

Prin. And for that offence, Immediately we doe exile him hence: I haue an interest in your hearts proceeding: My bloud for your rude brawles doth lie a bleeding. But Ile Amerce you with so strong a fine, That you shall all repent the losse of mine. It will be deafe to pleading and excuses, Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase our abuses. Therefore vse none, let Romeo hence in hast, Else when he is found, that houre is his last. Beare hence his body, and attend our will: Mercy not Murders, pardoning those that kill.

Exeunt.

Enter Iuliet alone.

Iul. Gallop apace, you fiery footed steedes, Towards Phoebus lodging, such a Wagoner As Phaeton would whip you to the west, And bring in Cloudie night immediately. Spred thy close Curtaine Loue-performing night, That run-awayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo Leape to these armes, vntalkt of and vnseene, Louers can see to doe their Amorous rights, And by their owne Beauties: or if Loue be blind, It best agrees with night: come ciuill night, Thou sober suted Matron all in blacke, And learne me how to loose a winning match, Plaid for a paire of stainlesse Maidenhoods, Hood my vnman'd blood bayting in my Cheekes, With thy Blacke mantle, till strange Loue grow bold, Thinke true Loue acted simple modestie: Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night, For thou wilt lie vpon the wings of night Whiter then new Snow vpon a Rauens backe: Come gentle night, come louing blackebrow'd night. Giue me my Romeo, and when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little starres, And he will make the Face of heauen so fine, That all the world will be in Loue with night, And pay no worship to the Garish Sun. O I haue bought the Mansion of a Loue, But not possest it, and though I am sold, Not yet enioy'd, so tedious is this day, As is the night before some Festiuall, To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not weare them, O here comes my Nurse: Enter Nurse with cords.

And she brings newes and euery tongue that speaks But Romeos name, speakes heauenly eloquence: Now Nurse, what newes? what hast thou there? The Cords that Romeo bid thee fetch? Nur. I, I, the Cords

Iuli. Ay me, what newes? Why dost thou wring thy hands

Nur. A weladay, hee's dead, hee's dead, We are vndone Lady, we are vndone. Alacke the day, hee's gone, hee's kil'd, he's dead

Iul. Can heauen be so enuious? Nur. Romeo can, Though heauen cannot. O Romeo, Romeo. Who euer would haue thought it Romeo

Iuli. What diuell art thou, That dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismall hell, Hath Romeo slaine himselfe? say thou but I, And that bare vowell I shall poyson more Then the death-darting eye of Cockatrice, I am not I, if there be such an I. Or those eyes shot, that makes thee answere I: If he be slaine say I, or if not, no. Briefe, sounds, determine of my weale or wo

Nur. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, God saue the marke, here on his manly brest, A pitteous Coarse, a bloody piteous Coarse: Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood, All in gore blood I sounded at the sight

Iul. O breake my heart, Poore Banckrout breake at once, To prison eyes, nere looke on libertie. Vile earth to earth resigne, end motion here, And thou and Romeo presse on heauie beere

Nur. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best Friend I had: O curteous Tybalt honest Gentleman, That euer I should liue to see thee dead

Iul. What storme is this that blowes so contrarie? Is Romeo slaughtred? and is Tybalt dead? My dearest Cozen, and my dearer Lord: Then dreadfull Trumpet sound the generall doome, For who is liuing, if those two are gone? Nur. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished, Romeo that kil'd him, he is banished

Iul. O God! Did Romeo's hand shed Tybalts blood It did, it did, alas the day, it did

Nur. O Serpent heart hid with a flowring face

Iul. Did euer Dragon keepe so faire a Caue? Beautifull Tyrant, fiend Angelicall: Rauenous Doue-feather'd Rauen, Woluish-rauening Lambe, Dispised substance of Diuinest show: Iust opposite to what thou iustly seem'st, A dimne Saint, an Honourable Villaine: O Nature! what had'st thou to doe in hell, When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend In mortall paradise of such sweet flesh? Was euer booke containing such vile matter So fairely bound? O that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous Pallace

Nur. There's no trust, no faith, no honestie in men, All periur'd, all forsworne, all naught, all dissemblers, Ah where's my man? giue me some Aqua-vitae? These griefes, these woes, these sorrowes make me old: Shame come to Romeo

Iul. Blister'd be thy tongue For such a wish, he was not borne to shame: Vpon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; For 'tis a throane where Honour may be Crown'd Sole Monarch of the vniuersall earth: O what a beast was I to chide him? Nur. Will you speake well of him, That kil'd your Cozen? Iul. Shall I speake ill of him that is my husband? Ah poore my Lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I thy three houres wife haue mangled it. But wherefore Villaine did'st thou kill my Cozin? That Villaine Cozin would haue kil'd my husband: Backe foolish teares, backe to your natiue spring, Your tributarie drops belong to woe, Which you mistaking offer vp to ioy: My husband liues that Tibalt would haue slaine, And Tibalt dead that would haue slaine my husband: All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then? Some words there was worser then Tybalts death That murdered me, I would forget it feine, But oh, it presses to my memory, Like damned guilty deedes to sinners minds, Tybalt is dead and Romeo banished: That banished, that one word banished, Hath slaine ten thousand Tibalts: Tibalts death Was woe inough if it had ended there: Or if sower woe delights in fellowship, And needly will be rankt with other griefes, Why followed not when she said Tibalts dead, Thy Father or thy Mother, nay or both, Which moderne lamentation might haue mou'd. But which a rere-ward following Tybalts death Romeo is banished to speake that word, Is Father, Mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Iuliet, All slaine, all dead: Romeo is banished, There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that words death, no words can that woe sound. Where is my Father and my Mother Nurse? Nur. Weeping and wailing ouer Tybalts Coarse, Will you go to them? I will bring you thither

Iu. Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shal be spent When theirs are drie for Romeo's banishment. Take vp those Cordes, poore ropes you are beguil'd, Both you and I for Romeo is exild: He made you for a high-way to my bed, But I a Maid, die Maiden widowed. Come Cord, come Nurse, Ile to my wedding bed, And death not Romeo, take my Maiden head

Nur. Hie to your Chamber, Ile find Romeo To comfort you, I wot well where he is: Harke ye your Romeo will be heere at night, Ile to him, he is hid at Lawrence Cell

Iul. O find him, giue this Ring to my true Knight, And bid him come, to take his last farewell.

Exit

Enter Frier and Romeo.

Fri. Romeo come forth, Come forth thou fearfull man, Affliction is enamor'd of thy parts And thou art wedded to calamitie, Rom. Father what newes? What is the Princes Doome? What sorrow craues acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not? Fri. Too familiar Is my deare Sonne with such sowre Company I bring thee tydings of the Princes Doome

Rom. What lesse then Doomesday, Is the Princes Doome? Fri. A gentler iudgement vanisht from his lips, Not bodies death, but bodies banishment

Rom. Ha, banishment? be mercifull, say death: For exile hath more terror in his looke, Much more then death: do not say banishment

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

Rom. There is no world without Verona walles, But Purgatorie, Torture, hell it selfe: Hence banished, is banisht from the world, And worlds exile is death. Then banished, Is death, mistearm'd, calling death banished, Thou cut'st my head off with a golden Axe, And smilest vpon the stroke that murders me

Fri. O deadly sin, O rude vnthankefulnesse! Thy falt our Law calles death, but the kind Prince Taking thy part, hath rusht aside the Law, And turn'd that blacke word death, to banishment. This is deare mercy, and thou seest it not

Rom. 'Tis Torture and not mercy, heauen is here Where Iuliet liues, and euery Cat and Dog, And little Mouse, euery vnworthy thing Liue here in Heauen and may looke on her, But Romeo may not. More Validitie, More Honourable state, more Courtship liues In carrion Flies, then Romeo: they may seaze On the white wonder of deare Iuliets hand, And steale immortall blessing from her lips, Who euen in pure and vestall modestie Still blush, as thinking their owne kisses sin. This may Flies doe, when I from this must flie, And saist thou yet, that exile is not death? But Romeo may not, hee is banished. Had'st thou no poyson mixt, no sharpe ground knife, No sudden meane of death, though nere so meane, But banished to kill me? Banished? O Frier, the damned vse that word in hell: Howlings attends it, how hast then the hart Being a Diuine, a Ghostly Confessor, A Sin-Absoluer, and my Friend profest: To mangle me with that word, banished? Fri. Then fond Mad man, heare me speake

Rom. O thou wilt speake againe of banishment

Fri. Ile giue thee Armour to keepe off that word, Aduersities sweete milke, Philosophie, To comfort thee, though thou art banished

Rom. Yet banished? hang vp Philosophie: Vnlesse Philosophie can make a Iuliet, Displant a Towne, reuerse a Princes Doome, It helpes not, it preuailes not, talke no more

Fri. O then I see, that Mad men haue no eares

Rom. How should they, When wisemen haue no eyes? Fri. Let me dispaire with thee of thy estate, Rom. Thou can'st not speake of that y dost not feele, Wert thou as young as Iuliet my Loue: An houre but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then mightest thou speake, Then mightest thou teare thy hayre, And fall vpon the ground as I doe now, Taking the measure of an vnmade graue. Enter Nurse, and knockes.

Frier. Arise one knockes, Good Romeo hide thy selfe

Rom. Not I, Vnlesse the breath of Hartsicke groanes Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes.

Knocke

Fri. Harke how they knocke: (Who's there) Romeo arise, Thou wilt be taken, stay a while, stand vp:

Knocke.

Run to my study: by and by, Gods will What simplenesse is this: I come, I come.

Knocke.

Who knocks so hard? Whence come you? what's your will? Enter Nurse.

Nur. Let me come in, And you shall know my errand: I come from Lady Iuliet

Fri. Welcome then

Nur. O holy Frier, O tell me holy Frier, Where's my Ladies Lord? where's Romeo? Fri. There on the ground, With his owne teares made drunke

Nur. O he is euen in my Mistresse case, Iust in her case. O wofull simpathy: Pittious predicament, euen so lies she, Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring, Stand vp, stand vp, stand and you be a man, For Iuliets sake, for her sake rise and stand: Why should you fall into so deepe an O

Rom. Nurse

Nur. Ah sir, ah sir, deaths the end of all

Rom. Speak'st thou of Iuliet? how is it with her? Doth not she thinke me an old Murtherer, Now I haue stain'd the Childhood of our ioy, With blood remoued, but little from her owne? Where is she? and how doth she? and what sayes My conceal'd Lady to our conceal'd Loue? Nur. Oh she sayes nothing sir, but weeps and weeps, And now fals on her bed, and then starts vp, And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries, And then downe falls againe