been eye-witness to the fray, was commanded by the
prince to relate the origin of it; which he did, keeping as near the
truth as he could without injury to Romeo, softening and excusing the
part which his friends took in it. Lady Capulet, whose extreme grief for
the loss of her kinsman Tybalt made her keep no bounds in her revenge,
exhorted the prince to do strict justice upon his murderer, and to pay
no attention to Benvolio's representation, who, being Romeo's friend and
a Montague, spoke partially. Thus she pleaded against her new
son-in-law, but she knew not yet that he was her son-in-law and Juliet's
husband. On the other hand was to be seen Lady Montague pleading for her
child's life, and arguing with some justice that Romeo had done nothing
worthy of punishment in taking the life of Tybalt, which was already
forfeited to the law by his having slain Mercutio. The prince, unmoved
by the passionate exclamations of these women, on a careful examination
of the facts, pronounced his sentence, and by that sentence Romeo was
banished from Verona.

Heavy news to young Juliet, who had been but a few hours a bride, and
now by this decree seemed everlastingly divorced! When the tidings
reached her, she at first gave way to rage against Romeo, who had slain
her dear cousin, she called him a beautiful tyrant, a fiend angelical, a
ravenous dove, a lamb with a wolf's nature, a serpent-heart hid with a
flowering face, and other like contradictory names, which denoted the
struggles in her mind between her love and her resentment: but in the
end love got the mastery, and the tears which she shed for grief that
Romeo had slain her cousin, turned to drops of joy that her husband
lived whom Tybalt would have slain. Then came fresh tears, and they were
altogether of grief for Romeo's banishment. That word was more terrible
to her than the death of many Tybalts.

Romeo, after the fray, had taken refuge in Friar Lawrence's cell, where
he was first made acquainted with the prince's sentence, which seemed to
him far more terrible than death. To him it appeared there was no world
out of Verona's walls, no living out of the sight of Juliet. Heaven was
there where Juliet 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