lived, and all beyond was
purgatory, torture, hell. The good friar would have applied the
consolation of philosophy to his griefs; but this frantic young man
would hear of none, but like a madman he tore his hair, and threw
himself all along upon the ground, as he said, to take the measure of
his grave. From this unseemly state he was roused by a message from
his dear lady, which a little revived him, and then the friar took the
advantage to expostulate with him on the unmanly weakness which he had
shown. He had slain Tybalt, but would he also slay himself, slay his
dear lady who lived but in his life? The noble form of man, he said,
was but a shape of wax, when it wanted the courage which should keep
it firm. The law had been lenient to him, that instead of death which
he had incurred, had pronounced by the prince's mouth only banishment.
He had slain Tybalt, but Tybalt would have slain him: there was a sort
of happiness in that. Juliet was alive, and (beyond all hope) had
become his dear wife, therein he was most happy. All these blessings,
as the friar made them out to be, did Romeo put from him like a sullen
misbehaved wench. And the friar bade him beware, for such as despaired
(he said) died miserable. Then when Romeo was a little calmed, he
counselled him that he should go that night and secretly take his
leave of Juliet, and thence proceed straitways to Mantua, at which
place he should sojourn, till the friar found a fit occasion to
publish his marriage, which might be a joyful means of reconciling
their families; and then he did not doubt but the prince would be
moved to pardon him, and he would return with twenty times more joy
than he went forth with grief. Romeo was convinced by these wise
counsels of the friar, and took his leave to go and seek his lady,
proposing to stay with her that night, and by day-break pursue his
journey alone to Mantua; to which place the good friar promised to
send him letters from time to time, acquainting him with the state of
affairs at home.

That night Romeo passed with his dear wife, gaining secret admission
to her chamber, from the orchard in which he had heard her confession
of love the night before. That had been a night of unmixed joy and
rapture; but the pleasures of this night, and the delight which these
lovers took in each other's society, were sadly allayed with the
prospect of parting, and the fatal adventures of the past day. The
unwelcome day-break seemed to come