to Mercutio, whom Tybalt had slain, and having had the peace of his government often disturbed by these brawls of Mountagues and Capulets, came determined to put the law in strictest force against those who should be found to be offenders.  Benvolio, who had 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 Mountague, 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 Mountague 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 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,