Act 3 - Scene 3
Friar Laurence's cell.
Enter FRIAR LAURENCE
Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man:
Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
And thou art wedded
Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet
Is my dear son with such sour company:
I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom?
A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
Not body's death, but body's banishment.
Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;'
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death: do
not say 'banishment.'
Hence from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Hence-banished is banish'd from
And world's exile is death: then banished,
Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment,
cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.
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.
'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,
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,
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?
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