“Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?” cried Juliet. “Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name when I, thy three-hours wife, have wronged it?” Worse, far worse to her, than her cousin’s death was the terrible news that Romeo was banished. “Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished!” The dreadful words kept ringing in her ears. “Romeo is banished! There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, in that word’s death; no words can fathom that woe,” she mourned. Juliet bade the nurse carry away the ladder of cords, for it was of no use now. Romeo was exiled, she would never see him again; death, and not Romeo, would be her husband. The old woman was melted to pity at the sight of Juliet’s misery. “Go to your room,” she said soothingly. “I’ll find Romeo to comfort you. I know well where he is. Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night. I’ll go to him; he is hidden in Friar Laurence’s cell.” “Oh, find him! Give this ring to my true knight,” cried Juliet, “and bid him come to take his last farewell.” * * * * * Forced to find a refuge after the death of Tybalt, Romeo had gone to the man who had always been a friend to him, and the good Friar Laurence had given him shelter in his cell. He then sallied forth to learn how matters were going, and presently returned with the news of the doom that the Prince had pronounced--Romeo was banished. Romeo was in despair when he heard the sentence. To him banishment seemed worse than death. In vain the Friar tried to comfort him, pointing out that the sentence was more merciful than what he had a right to expect. Romeo declared it was torture, and not mercy. Heaven was here where Juliet lived; and henceforth every cat and dog, and little mouse, and unworthy thing, might look at her, but he might not. Every creature was free, but he was banished. Was there no poison, no sharp knife, no sudden way of death, however mean, that might have killed him, that he must live on in torture, with that word “banished”? The good Friar tried to reason with him, but for the moment Romeo was past all reason; he refused to listen to any words of counsel, and flung himself down on the ground in a perfect frenzy of grief. At that moment there came a knocking at the outside door. “Arise; someone is knocking. Good Romeo hide thyself,” entreated the Friar. But Romeo refused to stir. The knocking came again, louder and more imperative. “Hark how they knock!... Who’s there?... Romeo, arise; thou wilt be taken.... Stay awhile.... Stand up! Run to my study.... In a minute.... Heavens! what folly is this?... I come--I come!” The Friar’s entreaties to Romeo were mixed with broken ejaculations to the person knocking outside, but as the headstrong young man refused to move from the spot where he had flung himself down on the floor of the cell, Friar Laurence dared no longer delay to open the door. [Illustration: “Romeo, arise; thou wilt be taken!”]