Rom. Nurse!
Nurse. Ah, sir! ah, sir! Well, death's the end of all.
Rom. Spak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her? 92
Doth she not think me an old murderer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood remov'd but little from her own?
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says 96
My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?
Nurse. O! she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;
And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,
And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries, 100
And then down falls again.
Rom. As if that name,
Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand
Murder'd her kinsman. O! tell me, friar, tell me, 104
In what vile part of this anatomy
Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion.
He offers to stab himself, and Nurse snatches
the dagger away.
Fri. L. Hold thy desperate hand:
Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art:
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
The unreasonable fury of a beast:
Unseemly woman in a seeming man;
And ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! 112
Thou hast amaz'd me: by my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
97 conceal'd; cf. n.
102 level: aim
106 sack: destroy
