Rough Draft of Scene

FRI. L.

Romeo, come forth, come forth, thou fearful man:

Affliction is enamor’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?

FRI. L.

Too familiar

Is my dear son with such sour company!

I bring thee tidings of the Prince’s doom.

ROM.

What less than dooms-day is the Prince’s doom?

FRI. L.

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”!

FRI. L.

Here 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 “banished”

Is death misterm’d. Calling death “banished,”

Thou cut’st my head off with a golden axe,

And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.

FRI. L.

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.

ROM.

’Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here

Where Juliet lives, 

Every cat and dog

Live here in heaven and may look on her,

But Romeo may not; 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.

They are free men, but I am banished:

FRI. L.

Thou fond mad man, hear me a little speak.

ROM.

O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

FRI. L.

I’ll give thee armor to keep off that word:

Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy,

To comfort thee though thou art banished.

ROM.

Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,

Displant a town, reverse a prince’s doom,

It helps not, it prevails not. Talk no more.

FRI. L.

O then I see that madmen have no ears.

.

Act 4 scene 1

JUL.

O, shut the door, and when thou hast done so,

Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help!

FRI. L.

O Juliet, I already know thy grief,

It strains me past the compass of my wits.

I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,

On Thursday next be married to this County.

JUL.

Tell me not, friar, that thou hearest of this,

Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it.

If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help,

Do thou but call my resolution wise,

And with this knife I’ll help it presently.

God join’d my heart and Romeo’s, thou our hands,

Give me some present counsel, or, behold,

I long to die.

FRI. L.

Hold, daughter! I do spy a kind of hope,

Which craves as desperate an execution

As that is desperate which we would prevent.

If rather than to marry County Paris,

Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,

Then is it likely thou wilt undertake

A thing like death to chide away this shame,

That cop’st with Death himself to scape from it;

And if thou darest, I’ll give thee remedy.

JUL.

O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,

chain me with roaring bears,

Or hide me nightly in a charnel-house,

And I will do it without fear or doubt,

To live an unstain’d wife to my sweet love.

FRI. L.

Hold then. Go home, be merry, give consent

To marry Paris. We’n’sday is tomorrow;

Tomorrow night look that thou lie alone,

Take thou this vial, being then in bed,

And this distilling liquor drink thou off,

When presently through all thy veins shall run

A cold and drowsy humor; for no pulse

To wanny ashes, thy eyes’ windows fall,

stiff and stark and cold, appear like death,

Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,

And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.

In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,

Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,

And hither shall he come, an’ he and I

Will watch thy waking, and that very night

Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.

And this shall free thee from this present shame,

If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,

Abate thy valor in the acting it.

JUL.

Love give me strength! And strength shall help afford.

Farewell, dear father!

Exeunt.