_Juliet._ 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. O, what a beast was I to chide at him!  
_Nurse._ Will you speak well of him that kill'd 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 kill'd 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 murther'd me. I would forget it fain, But, O, it presses to my memory, 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 follow'd 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.  
_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 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.  
_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._  

SCENE III. _Friar Laurence's Cell__Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE  
_Friar Laurence._ Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man. Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity._Enter_ ROMEO  
_Romeo._ Father, what news? what is the prince's doom? What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not?  
_Friar 

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