Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuses, Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, And learn me how to lose a winning match, Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks,2 With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, Think true love acted, simple modesty. Come, night!-Come, Romeo!-come, thou day in night! For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night night, Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die, (1) Grave, solemn. (2) These are terms of falconry. O, I have bought the mansion of a love, To an impatient child, that hath new robes, And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence.Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords, That Romeo bade thee fetch? Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords. [Throws them down. Jul. Ah me! 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 !— Alack the day!-he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. Or those eyes shut, that make the answer, If he be slain, say I; or if not, no: I. (1) In Shakspeare's time the affirmative particle ay was usually written 1, and here it is necessary to retain the old spelling. Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, God save the mark !—here, on his manly breast: To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary? Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished. Jul. O God!-did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did. Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! Nurse. Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitæ :These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. 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. what a beast was I to chide at him! Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?" Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth1 thy name, When I, thy three-hours' wife, have mangled it?— But wherefore, villain, didst 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 wo, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband: All this is comfort; Wherefore weep I then? Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: (1) To smooth, in ancient language, is to stroke, to caress. (2) i. e. Is worse than the loss of ten thousand Tybalts. Which modern' lamentation might have mov'd? 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. He made you for a highway to my bed; Come, cords; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding bed; Jul. O find him! give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exe. SCENE III.-Friar Laurence's cell. Enter Friar Laurence 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, Fri. Too familiar |