Romeo and Juliet reloaded

The greatest love story ever told

Scene 3 — OCR GCSE coursework scene




Romeo, come forth. Come forth, thou fearful man.  Affliction is enamoured of thy parts,

And thou art wedded to calamity.



Romeo, come here. Come out here, you frightened man. Suffering loves you; you have married disaster.

Enter ROMEO Enter Romeo  

Father, what news? What is the Prince’s doom?

What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand

That I yet know not?



Father, what is the news? What terrible thing did the Prince say? What misery wants to be my friend that I know nothing about?



Too familiar

Is my dear son with such sour company.

I bring thee tidings of the Prince’s doom.



You’ve suffered too much already. I have got news about the Prince’s penalty.


What less than doomsday is the Prince’s doom?



Is his sentence as bad as the end of the world?


A gentler judgment vanished from his lips:

Not body’s death, but body’s banishment.



He’s been kind, you’re not to die, but you are to be expelled from the city.


Ha, banishment! Be merciful, say “death,”

For exile hath more terror in his look,

Much more than death. Do not say “banishment.”



Ha, expulsion! No, be kind and say ‘death’. Exile is much worse than death. Don’t say, ‘expulsion’.



Hence from Verona art thou banishèd.

Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.



You’re banished from Verona, but you need to be patient, there’s a lot more to the world than Verona.


There is no world without Verona walls

But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence “banishèd” is banished from the world,

And world’s exile is death. Then “banishèd,”

s death mistermed. Calling death “banishment,”

Thou cutt’st my head off with a golden ax

And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.




The only world for me is in Verona. Outside this city, there’s only torture and hell. So being sent away from Verona is like being expelled from the whole world, and being excluded from the world means I’m a dead man.

So saying ‘banishment’ actually is the wrong name for death.  If you call death ‘banishment’, it’s like cutting off my head with an axe made out of gold, and smiling while my head gets chopped off.


O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!

Thy fault our law calls death, but the kind Prince,

Taking thy part, hath rushed aside the law,

And turned that black word “death” to “banishment.”

This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.



God, you’re a rude ungrateful boy! How can you speak in such a terrible way? Our laws say that you could be executed for your crime, but the Chief of Police has been kind and has ignored the law, and exiled you instead of killing you. You don’t realize how lucky you are.


‘Tis torture and not mercy. Heaven is here,

Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog

And little mouse, every unworthy thing,

Live here in heaven and may look on her,

But Romeo may not. More validity,

More honorable state, more courtship lives

In carrion flies than Romeo. They may seize

On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand

And steal immortal blessing from her lips,

Who even in pure and vestal modesty,

Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.

But Romeo may not. He is banishèd.

Flies may do this, but I from this must fly.

They are free men, but I am banishèd.

And sayst thou yet that exile is not death?

Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife,

No sudden mean of death, though ne’er so mean,

But “banishèd” to kill me?—“Banishèd”!

O Friar, the damnèd use that word in hell.

Howling attends it. How hast thou the heart,

Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and my friend professed,

To mangle me with that word “banishèd”?



He’s torturing me — not showing me mercy. Heaven is in Verona because this is where Juliet lives. Every cat and god, and little mouse, every miserable animal, can live here in heaven and are able to look at her, but I’m not allowed to. The flies that feed off dead bodies have more honour and more luck in love than I do. They can suck on her lovely white hand, or sneak a kiss from her gorgeous lips. Because she’s still a virgin, her lips blush when they touch each other, thinking it’s wrong that they are kissing each other, but I’m not able to. I’m banished. Flies are able to kiss her, but I have to fly away from here. Those flies are free, but I’m banished. So how can you say that being banished is not the same as being dead? Don’t you have some kind of poison, some sharp knife, some killing machine that you could use to kill me with, rather than make me suffer being sent away from Juliet? O Vicar, that’s how people who are in hell speak, they talk of being exiled from heaven. They howl when they say the word. How can you be a kind and holy man, a fully trained counselor, and a friend of mine, and yet keep saying the word that kills me: banishment?




Thou fond mad man, hear me a little speak.



You stupid idiot, let me say a word!



Oh, thou wilt speak again of banishment.



Oh no! You’re just going to talk about my exclusion again!



I’ll give thee armor to keep off that word—

Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy—

To comfort thee though thou art banishèd.



Just listen to the medicine that always helps when things are going wrong: philosophy. That will come you when you’re exiled.



Yet “banishèd”? Hang up philosophy!

Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,

Displant a town, reverse a prince’s doom,

It helps not, it prevails not. Talk no more.



You’re still talking about me being expelled? F*** your philosophy!

Philosophy is totally useless and worthles unless it can create a new Juliet, pick up Verona and put it where I’m staying, and reverse the Chief of Police’s punishment. Just shut up!


Oh, then I see that madmen have no ears.



I can see your madness has made you deaf!



How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?



How can mad people hear anything if clever people like you can see a bloody thing?



Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.



Just let me discuss your situation for a moment.


Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel.

Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,

An hour but married, Tybalt murderèd,

Doting like me, and like me banishèd,

Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair

And fall upon the ground, as I do now,

Taking the measure of an unmade grave.



You can’t talk about something you don’t have any feelings for. If you were as young as me, and you were in love with Juliet, and you had been married only an hour, and you’d murdered Tybalt, and you were as in love as I am, then you’d pull your hair out, fall the ground, as I am now, and you’d measure out your own grave, which hasn’t been dug out yet.

Knocking from within    

Arise. One knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself.



Get up. Someone’s knocking. Go and hide my lad.



Not I, unless the breath of heartsick groans,

Mistlike, infold me from the search of eyes.



I’m not going to hide unless all my sighing creates a mist which hides me from all the eyes that are hunting me down.

Knocking Knocking  

Hark, how they knock!—Who’s there?—Romeo, arise.

Thou wilt be taken.—Stay awhile.—Stand up.



Listen to how hard they’re knocking! Who’s there? Romeo, get up. You’ll be taken prisoner. Stay for a bit. Stand up!


Run to my study.—By and by!—God’s will,

What simpleness is this!—I come, I come.


Run to my study. I’m coming in a minute! Oh my God, how can you be so stupid? I’m coming, I’m coming!  

(from within) Let me come in, and you shall know my errand.

I come from Lady Juliet.



(from offstage) Let me come in, then I’ll give you my message. I’ve come from Lady Juliet.


(opens the door) Welcome then.



(opens the door) Welcome then.


Enter NURSE Enter NURSE  

O holy Friar, O, tell me, holy Friar,

Where is my lady’s lord? Where’s Romeo?



Oh my good man, oh, tell me, you holy man, where’s Juliet’s husband? Where’s Romeo?



There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.



He’s lying there on the ground, and has completely lost his senses what with crying so much.


Oh, he is even in my mistress’ case,

Just in her case. O woeful sympathy,

Piteous predicament! Even so lies she,

Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.

Stand up, stand up. Stand, an you be a man.

For Juliet’s sake, for her sake, rise and stand.

Why should you fall into so deep an O?



Oh, he’s behaving just like Juliet, exactly like her. It’s like they’re communicating their pain to each other, God, what a terrible problem this is! She’s lying on the ground just like him, blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. God, stand up, stand up. Get a grip on yourself if you’re a real man! For Juliet’s sake, for her sake, get up and stand on your feet! Why are you so hysterical?








Ah sir, ah sir. Death’s the end of all.



Oh, my man, oh, my man. Death brings an end to us all.



Spakest thou of Juliet? How is it with her?

Doth she not think me an old murderer,

Now I have stained the childhood of our joy

With blood removed but little from her own?

Where is she? And how doth she? And what says

My concealed lady to our canceled love?



Were you speaking about Juliet? How is she? Is she accusing me of murder, now that I have ruined the beginning of our marriage by killing her cousin? Where is she? And how is she? What is she saying about our ruined love-affair?



Oh, 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,

And then down falls again.



Oh, she doesn’t say anything; the only thing she does is weep and weep. One moment she falls on her bed, then she gets up and cries out ‘Tybalt!’ and then she cries about you, and then she falls down again.



As if that name,

Shot from the deadly level of a gun,

Did murder her, as that name’s cursed hand

Murdered her kinsman. O, tell me, Friar, tell me,

In what vile part of this anatomy

Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack

The hateful mansion. (draws his dagger)



It’s like that my name was shot from a gun and murdered her, in the same way I murdered her cousin. Oh, tell me, Vicar, tell me in what disgusting part of my body does my name stay? Tell me, so that I can stab it out of my body!

(he gets out his dagger)




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!

Thou hast amazed me. By my holy order,

I thought thy disposition better tempered.

Hast thou slain Tybalt? Wilt thou slay thyself,

And slay thy lady that in thy life lives

By doing damnèd hate upon thyself?

Why rail’st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?

Since birth and heaven and earth, all three do meet

In thee at once, which thou at once wouldst lose?

Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit,

Which, like a usurer, abound’st in all

And usest none in that true use indeed

Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit.

Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,

Digressing from the valor of a man;

Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury,

Killing that love which thou hast vowed to cherish;

Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,

Misshapen in the conduct of them both,

Like powder in a skill-less soldier’s flask,

Is set afire by thine own ignorance;

And thou dismembered with thine own defence.

What, rouse thee, man! Thy Juliet is alive,

For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead—

There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,

But thou slew’st Tybalt—there art thou happy.

The law that threatened death becomes thy friend

And turns it to exile—there art thou happy.

A pack of blessings light upon thy back,

Happiness courts thee in her best array,

But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,

Thou pout’st upon thy fortune and thy love.

Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.

Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed.

Ascend her chamber, hence, and comfort her.

But look thou stay not till the watch be set,

For then thou canst not pass to Mantua,

Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time

To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,

Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back

With twenty hundred thousand times more joy

Than thou went’st forth in lamentation.—

Go before, Nurse. Commend me to thy lady,

And bid her hasten all the house to bed,

Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto.

Romeo is coming.



Stop! Don’t move your desperate hands. Are you a man? Your body tells me you are, but your tears are like a woman’s. Your crazy behavior make you seem like you’re a mad, angry animal. What are you? You’re like batty woman who disguised as a decent man, or perhaps a stupid creature, who is half-man, half-animal! You amaze me! Oh God, I didn’t think you’d completely lost it! Have you killed Tybalt? Does that mean you’re going to kill yourself, and then your own wife, who depends you for her own life? How could you be so selfish as to kill yourself? Why are you moaning on and on about your life and the world and heaven? Don’t you realize that you’re a combination of all the three things: you have life, you live on earth and you have the chance to live in paradise? But you want to throw all of that away! God, God, you are a disgrace to your own self, to the person you love, and to your own intelligence! You are a really clever person, but you never use your mind properly! You are letting down yourself so badly! Since you’re not using your intelligence, it’s like you’re a waxwork figure, which has no courage and all those promises you made to Juliet are hollow lies, and you’re destroying the very thing you love. Your mind, like gunpowder in a stupid soldier’s rucksack, has exploded, twisting your love completely out of shape, and blowing up all your body parts. What is going on? Get a grip! Your Juliet is still alive – it’s because of her that you were nearly killed. But, you weren’t, that’s a reason to be happy! Tybalt wanted to kill you, but you killed Tybalt – that’s another reason to be happy! You should have been executed – that was the law – but now you’ve been exiled – another reason to be happy! You’ve lived a charmed life! Happiness loves you!  But like a naughty and grumpy girl you’re moaning about your bad luck in love. Listen to me, listen to me, people who behave like that die miserable deaths. I want you now to go and be with your lover, as is your right now. Climb up to her bed room, and comfort her. But when the guards come in the morning, you should escape to Mantua, where you’ll live, until we sort things out; by which time we’ll tell the world about your marriage, make peace between the two families, and arrange for the Chief of Police to pardon you. Then we’ll ask you back, and you’ll feel twenty thousand times happier than when you left so miserable. Go on, nurse! Give my regards to your lady, and ask her to hurry everyone off to bed, which they’ll probably want to do since they’re feeling so sad. Romeo is coming!


O Lord, I could have stayed here all the night

To hear good counsel. Oh, what learning is!

My lord, I’ll tell my lady you will come.



Oh my Lord, I could listen to you all night giving such amazing advice. Oh my, you are so educated!  Romeo, I’ll tell Juliet that you’re coming soon.



Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.



Do that, and tell my sweet lover to get ready to tell me off.



Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir.

(gives ROMEO JULIET’s ring)

Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.



Here Romeo, this is a ring she told me to give to you. Come on, hurry up, it’s getting late!



How well my comfort is revived by this!



God, I feel much better now!



Go hence. Good night. And here stands all your state:

Either be gone before the watch be set,

Or by the break of day disguised from hence.

Sojourn in Mantua. I’ll find out your man,

And he shall signify from time to time

Every good hap to you that chances here.

Give me thy hand. ‘Tis late. Farewell, good night.



Get going! Good night! This is the situation: either you should leave before the guards go on duty for the night-time, or you should leave at dawn, but make sure you disguise yourself. Stay in Mantua. I’ll find your servant, and he’ll bring you good news whenever he can. Give me your hand. It’s very late. Goodbye, and goodnight.


But that a joy past joy calls out on me,

It were a grief so brief to part with thee.




I’m sad to leave you so soon, but the greatest joy of my life is calling me.

Exeunt They leave  

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