'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 banished. And sayest 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 "banished" to kill me? "Banished"? O friar, the damned 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 "banished"?