_Iul_: Ah _Romeo, Romeo_, what disaster hap Hath seuerd thee from thy true _Juliet_? Ah why should Heauen so much conspire with Woe, 20 Or Fate enuie our happie Marriage, So soone to sunder vs by timelesse Death? _Nur_: O _Tybalt, Tybalt_, the best frend I had, O honest _Tybalt_, curteous Gentleman. _Iul_: What storme is this that blowes so contrarie, 25 Is _Tybalt_ dead, and _Romeo_ murdered: My deare loude cousen, and my dearest Lord. Then let the trumpet sound a generall doome These two being dead, then liuing is there none. _Nur: Tybalt_ is dead, and _Romeo_ banished, 30 _Romeo_ that murdred him is banished. _Iul_: Ah heauens, did _Romeos_ hand shed _Tybalts_ blood? _Nur_: It did, it did, alacke the day it did. _Iul_: O serpents hate, hid with a flowring face: O painted sepulcher, including filth. 35 Was neuer booke containing so foule matter, So fairly bound. Ah, what meant _Romeo_? _Nur_: There is no truth, no faith, no honestie in men: All false, all faithles, periurde, all forsworne. Shame come to _Romeo_. 40 _Iul_: A blister on that tung, he was not borne to shame: Vpon his face Shame is ashamde to sit. But wherefore villaine didst thou kill my Cousen? That villaine Cousen would haue kild my husband. All this is comfort. But there yet remaines 45 Worse than his death, which faine I would forget: But ah, it presseth to my memorie, _Romeo_ is banished. Ah that word Banished Is worse than death. R_omeo_ is banished, Is Father, Mother, _Tybalt_, I_uliet_, 50 All killd, all slaine, all dead, all banished. Where are my Father and my Mother Nurse? _Nur_: Weeping and wayling ouer _Tybalts_ coarse. Will you goe to them? _Iul_: I, I, when theirs are spent, 55 Mine shall he shed for R_omeos_ banishment. _Nur_: Ladie, your R_omeo_ will be here to night, Ile to him, he is hid at _Laurence_ Cell. _Iul_: Doo so, and beare this Ring to my true Knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell. _Exeunt._ 60 [Sidenote: [SC. XIII.]] _Enter Frier._ _Fr_: R_omeo_ come forth, come forth thou fearfull man, Affliction is enamourd on thy parts, And thou art wedded to Calamitie. _Enter Romeo._ _Rom_: Father what newes, what is the Princes doome, What Sorrow craues acquaintance at our hands, 5 Which yet we know not. _Fr_: Too familiar Is my yong sonne with such sowre companie: I bring thee tidings of the Princes doome. _Rom_: What lesse than doomes day is the Princes doome? 10