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Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds!

'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo- banished.'

That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,'

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 rank'd 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 mov'd?

But with a rearward following Tybalt's death,

'Romeo is banished'- to speak that word

Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,

All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished'-

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.

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 highway to my bed;

But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.

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 Laurence' cell.

Jul. O, find him! give this ring to my true knight

And bid him come to take his last farewell.

Exeunt.

Scene III. Friar Laurence's cell.

Enter Friar [Laurence].

Friar. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man.

Affliction is enanmour'd of thy parts,

And thou art wedded to calamity.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. 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.

Rom. What less than doomsday is the Prince's doom?

Friar. 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 terror in his look,

Much more than death. Do not say 'banishment.'

Friar. Hence from Verona art thou banished.

Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

Rom. There is no world without Verona walls,

But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence banished is banish'd from the world,

And world's exile is death. Then 'banishment'

Is death misterm'd. Calling death 'banishment,'

Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe

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 brush'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. 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 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 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 banished.

This may flies do, when I from this must fly;

They are free men, but I am banished.

And sayest thou yet that exile is not death?

Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,

No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,

But 'banished' to kill me- 'banished'?

O friar, the damned 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 profess'd,

To mangle me with that word 'banished'?

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

Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

Friar. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;

Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,

To comfort