_Fr_: A gentler iudgement vanisht from his lips, Not bodies death, but bodies banishment. _Rom_: Ha, Banished? be mercifull, say death: For Exile hath more terror in his lookes, Than death it selfe, doo not say Banishment. 15 _Fr_: Hence from _Verona_ art thou banished: Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. _Rom_: There is no world without _Verona_ walls, But purgatorie, torture, hell it selfe. Hence banished, is banisht from the world: 20 And world exilde is death. Calling death banishment, Thou cutst my head off with a golden axe, And smilest vpon the stroke that murders me. _Fr_: Oh monstrous sinne, O rude vnthankfulnes: Thy fault our law calls death, but the milde Prince 25 (Taking thy part) hath rushd aside the law, And turnd that blacke word death to banishment: This is meere mercie, and thou seest it not. _Rom_: Tis torture and not mercie, heauen is heere Where _Iuliet_ liues: and euerie cat and dog, 30 And little mouse, euerie vnworthie thing Liue here in heauen, and may looke on her, But R_omeo_ may not. More validitie, More honourable state, more courtship liues In carrion flyes, than R_omeo_: they may seaze 35 On the white wonder of faire _Iuliets_ skinne, And steale immortall kisses from her lips; But R_omeo_ may not, he is banished. Flies may doo this, but I from this must flye. Oh Father hadst thou no strong poyson mixt, 40 No sharpe ground knife, no present meane of death, Though nere so meane, but banishment To torture me withall: ah, banished. O Frier, the damned vse that word in hell: Howling attends it. How hadst thou the heart, 45 Being a Diuine, a ghostly Confessor, A sinne absoluer, and my frend profest, To mangle me with that word, Banishment? _Fr_: Thou fond mad man, heare me but speake a word. _Rom_: O, thou wilt talke againe of Banishment. 50 _Fr_: Ile giue thee armour to beare off this word, Aduersities sweete milke, philosophie, To comfort thee though thou be banished. _Rom_: Yet Banished? hang vp philosophie, Vnlesse philosophie can make a _Juliet_, 55 Displant a Towne, reuerse a Princes doome, It helpes not, it prevailes not, talke no more. _Fr_: O, now I see that madmen haue no eares. _Rom_: How should they, when that wise men haue no eyes. _Fr_: Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. 60