Romeo and Juliet Act 3 Scene 3
Friar Laurence's cell.
The Original
Plain Modern English
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.
Friar Laurence
Romeo, come out. Come out, you frightened man.
Misfortune has fallen in love with you,
and you're married to disaster.
Enter Romeo.
Romeo
Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?
Romeo
Father, what's the news? What's the Prince's sentence?
What new sorrow wants to shake my hand
that I don't know about yet?
Friar Laurence
Too familiar
Is my dear son with such sour company:
I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
Friar Laurence
You're already far too well acquainted
with that kind of bitter company, my son.
I bring you news of the Prince's ruling.
Romeo
What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom?
Romeo
What could the Prince's ruling be, short of doomsday?
Friar Laurence
A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
Not body's death, but body's banishment.
Friar Laurence
A gentler judgment came from his lips:
not death, but banishment.
Romeo
Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;'
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'
Romeo
Banishment! Be merciful — say 'death.'
Exile has far more terror in its face
than death does. Don't say 'banishment.'
Friar Laurence
Hence from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Friar Laurence
You're banished from Verona.
Be patient — the world is broad and wide.
Romeo
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 banished,
Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment,
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.
Romeo
There's no world outside Verona's walls —
only purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Banished from here means banished from the world,
and exile from the world is death. So 'banished'
is just death by another name. By calling death banishment
you're cutting my head off with a golden axe
and smiling at the blow that kills me.
Friar Laurence
O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.
Friar Laurence
What a terrible sin! What crude ingratitude!
The law calls your crime a capital offence. But the kind Prince,
taking your side, pushed the law aside
and turned that black word 'death' into 'banishment.'
That's precious mercy — and you can't see it.
Romeo
'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 my 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:
Flies may do this, but I from this must fly:
They are free men, but I am banished.
And say'st 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;
Howlings attend 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'?
Romeo
It's torture, not mercy. Heaven is here,
where Juliet lives. Every cat and dog
and little mouse — every worthless creature —
lives here in heaven and can look at her.
Romeo can't. There's more standing,
more honour, more courtly privilege
in the flies on a corpse than in Romeo. They can land
on the white wonder of Juliet's hand
and steal an immortal blessing from her lips —
lips which, in their pure and virgin modesty,
blush as if their own kisses were a sin.
But Romeo can't. He's banished.
Flies may do it, but I must fly from it.
They're free men — I'm banished.
And you still say exile isn't death?
Had you no poison mixed, no sharpened knife,
no quick means of death, however crude,
except 'banished' to kill me with? 'Banished'!
Friar, the damned use that word in hell;
howling goes with it. How can you have the heart,
as a man of God, a confessor,
a forgiver of sins, and my declared friend,
to tear me apart with that word 'banished'?
Friar Laurence
Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.
Friar Laurence
You foolish madman — let me get one word in.
Romeo
O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
Romeo
Oh, you're going to talk about banishment again.
Friar Laurence
I'll give thee armour to keep off that word:
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
Friar Laurence
I'll give you armour against that word:
philosophy, the sweet milk of hard times,
to comfort you even though you're banished.
Romeo
Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,
It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more.
Romeo
'Banished' again? To hell with philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
move a town, or reverse a prince's sentence,
it's no help and no use. Say no more.
Friar Laurence
O, then I see that madmen have no ears.
Friar Laurence
Then I see madmen have no ears.
Romeo
How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?
Romeo
How could they, when wise men have no eyes?
Friar Laurence
Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
Friar Laurence
Let me reason with you about your situation.
Romeo
Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel:
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me and like me banished,
Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,
And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
Romeo
You can't talk about what you don't feel.
If you were as young as me, with Juliet as your love,
married one hour, Tybalt murdered,
as obsessed as me and banished like me —
then you could talk. Then you could tear your hair
and throw yourself on the ground as I'm doing now,
measuring out a grave that hasn't been dug yet.
Knocking within.
Friar Laurence
Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.
Friar Laurence
Get up — someone's knocking. Romeo, hide.
Romeo
Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans,
Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.
Romeo
Not me — unless the breath of my heartsick groans
wraps me like mist and hides me from searching eyes.
More knocking.
Friar Laurence
Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise;
Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up;
Run to my study. By and by! God's will,
What simpleness is this! I come, I come!
Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?
Friar Laurence
Listen to that knocking! Who's there? — Romeo, get up,
you'll be caught. — Just a moment! — Stand up!
Run to my study. — Coming! — God's will,
what foolishness is this? — I'm coming, I'm coming!
Who's knocking so hard? Where are you from? What do you want?
Nurse
[Within] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand;
I come from Lady Juliet.
Nurse
(outside) Let me in and you'll find out my business.
I come from Lady Juliet.
Friar Laurence
Welcome, then.
Friar Laurence
Then welcome.
Enter the Nurse.
Nurse
O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?
Nurse
Oh, holy friar — tell me, holy friar,
where's my lady's husband? Where's Romeo?
Friar Laurence
There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.
Friar Laurence
There on the floor, drunk on his own tears.
Nurse
O, he is even in my mistress' case,
Just in her case! O woful sympathy!
Piteous predicament! Even so lies she,
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man:
For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;
Why should you fall into so deep an O?
Nurse
Oh, he's in exactly the same state as my mistress —
exactly the same! What miserable sympathy!
What a pitiful situation! She's lying just like that,
blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
Stand up, stand up! Stand up, if you're a man.
For Juliet's sake, for her sake — get up and stand.
Why collapse into such a deep groan?
Romeo
Nurse!
Romeo
Nurse!
Nurse
Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.
Nurse
Oh, sir! Oh, sir! Well — death's the end of everything.
Romeo
Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
Doth she not think me an old murderer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood removed but little from her own?
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?
Romeo
Did you say Juliet? How is she?
Doesn't she think me a hardened murderer,
now that I've stained the infancy of our happiness
with blood so close to her own?
Where is she? How is she? And what does
my secret wife say about our cancelled love?
Nurse
O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;
And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,
And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,
And then down falls again.
Nurse
Oh, she says nothing, sir — she just weeps and weeps.
She throws herself on the bed, then jumps up,
calls out for Tybalt, then cries out for Romeo,
then collapses again.
Romeo
As if that name,
Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand
Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me,
In what vile part of this anatomy
Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion.
Romeo
As if that name,
fired from the deadly barrel of a gun,
murdered her — the way that name's cursed hand
murdered her cousin. Tell me, friar, tell me:
in what vile part of this body
does my name live? Tell me, so I can destroy
the hateful house it lives in.
He draws his sword.
Friar Laurence
Hold thy desperate hand:
Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art:
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
And stay thy lady too that lives in thee,
By doing damned hate upon thyself?
Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose.
Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit;
Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,
And usest none in that true use indeed
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit:
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
Digressing from the valour of a man;
Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury,
Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask,
Is set afire by thine own ignorance,
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou slew'st Tybalt; there are thou happy too:
The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back;
Happiness courts thee in her best array;
But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her:
But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.
Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
Romeo is coming.
Friar Laurence
Hold that desperate hand!
Are you a man? Your shape says you are.
Your tears are womanish; your wild behaviour suggests
the mindless rage of an animal.
An unbecoming woman inside an apparent man!
Or an ugly beast that looks like both!
You've astonished me. By my holy order,
I thought your character was better balanced than this.
You've killed Tybalt — now you'll kill yourself?
And kill your wife too, whose life is bound up in yours,
by turning damnable hatred on yourself?
Why are you cursing your birth, and heaven, and earth?
All three of them come together
in you at once — and you'd throw all three away at once.
Shame on you. You disgrace your body, your love, and your mind.
Like a miser, you're rich in all three
and use none of them properly,
in the way that would honour them.
Your noble body is just a wax figure,
empty of a man's courage.
Your sworn love is hollow perjury,
killing the very love you vowed to cherish.
Your intelligence, which should adorn your body and your love,
has mismanaged both,
and like gunpowder in a clumsy soldier's flask
it's been set alight by your own stupidity,
blowing you apart with your own weapon.
Come on, pull yourself together! Your Juliet is alive,
the girl you were just now ready to die for.
There's your good luck. Tybalt wanted to kill you,
but you killed Tybalt — more good luck.
The law that threatened death became your friend
and turned it into exile — good luck again.
A whole pile of blessings has landed on you.
Happiness is courting you in her finest clothes.
But like a badly-behaved, sulky girl,
you're pouting at your luck and your love.
Be careful — people like that die miserable.
Go to your love, as we arranged.
Climb up to her room and comfort her.
But make sure you leave before the night watch is posted,
or you won't get through to Mantua,
where you'll live until we can find the right moment
to announce your marriage, reconcile your families,
beg the Prince's pardon, and call you home
with two hundred thousand times more joy
than the grief you left with.
Go ahead, Nurse. Give my regards to your lady,
and tell her to get the whole household to bed early —
which their heavy grief will make easy.
Romeo is coming.
Nurse
O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night
To hear good counsel: O, what learning is!
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
Nurse
Lord, I could have stayed here all night
listening to good advice. Oh, what a thing education is!
My lord, I'll tell my lady you're coming.
Romeo
Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
Romeo
Do that — and tell my love to get ready to scold me.
Nurse
Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.
Nurse
Here, sir — a ring she told me to give you.
Hurry, be quick — it's getting very late.
Exit Nurse.
Romeo
How well my comfort is revived by this!
Romeo
How this revives my spirits!
Friar Laurence
Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state:
Either be gone before the watch be set,
Or by the break of day disguised from hence:
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he shall signify from time to time
Every good hap to you that chances here:
Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.
Friar Laurence
Go now. Good night. And here's where you stand:
either leave before the watch is posted,
or slip away at dawn in disguise.
Stay in Mantua. I'll find your servant,
and he'll report to you regularly
on any good news that happens here.
Give me your hand. It's late. Farewell — good night.
Romeo
But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell.
Romeo
If a joy beyond joy weren't calling me away,
it would grieve me to leave you so quickly. Farewell.
Exeunt.