Capulet's Orchard.
 Enter JULIET.

Juliet	Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
	Towards Phoebus' lodging. Such a waggoner
	As Phaethon would whip you to the west,
	And bring in cloudy night immediately.
	Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
	That runaways' eyes may wink, and Romeo
	Leap to these arms, untalked-of and unseen.
	Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
	By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,
	It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,
	Thou sober-suited matron all in black,
	And learn me how to lose a winning match
	Played for a pair of stainless maidenhoods.
	Hood my unmanned blood, bating in my cheeks,
	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
	Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.
	Come, gentle night; come, loving black-browed night,
	Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die,
	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.
	O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
	But not possessed it; and, though I am sold,
	Not yet enjoyed. So tedious is this day
	As is the night before some festival
	To an impatient child that hath new robes
	And may not wear them. O, here comes my Nurse.

        Enter NURSE with the ladder of cords, wringing her hands.

	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 bid thee fetch?

Nurse								Ay, ay, the cords.

Juliet	Ay me, what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands?

Nurse	Ah welladay! He's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
	We are undone, lady, we are undone.
	Alack the day! He's gone, he's killed, he's dead.

Juliet	Can heaven be so envious?

Nurse							Romeo can,
	Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo!
	Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!

Juliet	What devil art thou that dost torment me thus?
	This torture should be roared in dismal hell.
	Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but 'Ay'
	And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more
	Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.
	I am not I if there be such an 'I',
	Or those eyes shut that makes thee answer 'Ay'.
	If he be slain say 'Ay', or if not, 'No';
	Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.

Nurse	I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes - God save the 
	mark! - here on his manly breast:
	A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
	Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaubed in blood,
	All in gore-blood. I swoond at the sight.

Juliet	O 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	O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
	O courteous Tybalt, honest gentleman,
	That ever I should live to see thee dead!

Juliet	What storm is this that blows so contrary?
	Is Romeo slaughtered and is Tybalt dead?
	My dearest cousin, and my dearer lord?
	Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom;
	For who is living if those two are gone?

Nurse	Tybalt is gone and Romeo banishd.
	Romeo, that killed him, he is banishd.

Juliet	O God, did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?

Nurse	It did, it did, alas the day! It did.

Juliet	O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face!
	Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
	Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical,
	Dove-feathered raven, wolvish-ravening lamb,
	Despisd substance of divinest show!
	Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,
	A damnd saint, an honourable villain!
	O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell
	When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
	In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh?
	Was ever book containing such vile matter
	So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
	In such a gorgeous palace!

Nurse							There's no trust,
	No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,
	All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
	Ah, where's my man? Give me some aqua vitae.
	These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
	Shame come to Romeo!

Juliet						Blistered be thy tongue
	For such a wish! He was not born to shame.
	Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit,
	For 'tis a throne where honour may be crowned
	Sole monarch of the universal earth.
	O what a beast was I to chide at him!

Nurse	Will you speak well of him that killed your cousin?

Juliet	Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
	Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name
	When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?
	But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
	That villain cousin would have killed my husband.
	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 Tybalt would have slain;
	And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband.
	All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
	Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
	That murdered me. I would forget it fain,
	But O it presses to my memory
	Like damnd guilty deeds to sinners' minds.
	'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banishd.'
	That 'banishd', that one word 'banishd'
	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 ranked 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 moved?
	But with a rearward following Tybalt's death,
	'Romeo is banishd' - to speak that word
	Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
	All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banishd',
	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.

Juliet	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 beguiled,
	Both you and I, for Romeo is exiled.
	He made you for a highway to my bed,
	But I, a maid, die maiden-widowd.
	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.

Juliet	O find him! Give this ring to my true knight,
	And bid him come to take his last farewell.
											[Exeunt.
