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Will you speak well of him that killed your cousin?

Nurse
Will you speak well of him that killed your cousin?
Juliet
Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name
When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?
But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
That villain cousin would have killed my husband.

“Romeo is banishèd.”
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
In that word’s death. No words can that woe sound.

Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;
Your tributary drops belong to woe,
Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.
My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain,
And Tybalt’s dead, that would have slain my husband.
All this is comfort. Wherefore weep I then?
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt’s death,
That murdered me. I would forget it fain,
But, O, it presses to my memory
Like damnèd guilty deeds to sinners’ minds:
“Tybalt is dead and Romeo banishèd.”
That “banishèd,” that one word “banishèd,”
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt’s death
Was woe enough if it had ended there;
Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship
And needly will be ranked with other griefs,
Why followed not, when she said “Tybalt’s dead,”
“Thy father” or “thy mother,” nay, or both,
Which modern lamentation might have moved?
But with a rearward following Tybalt’s death,
“Romeo is banishèd.” To speak that word
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All slain, all dead. “Romeo is banishèd.”
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
In that word’s death. No words can that woe sound.
Where is my father and my mother, nurse?
Nurse
Weeping and wailing over Tybalt’s corse.
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Juliet
Wash they his wounds with tears? Mine shall be spent,
When theirs are dry, for Romeo’s banishment.—
Take up those cords.
 The Nurse picks up the rope ladder.
Poor ropes, you are beguiled,
Both you and I, for Romeo is exiled.
He made you for a highway to my bed,
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowèd.
Come, cords—come, nurse. I’ll to my wedding bed,
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!

Source:
Act 3
Scene 2
Line 105

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