FRIAR              Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,

                        Digressing from the valour 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 skilless soldier’s flask,

                        Is set afire by thine own ignorance,

                        And thou dismembered with thine own defence. (3.3.126-134)

And so the Friar continues. Appearances have been deceptive, it seems: your noble shape is but a form of wax, you just seem to be a man, but you’re like a waxwork, an imitation man, because you lack a man’s bravery and integrity. You can’t really love Juliet if you’re threatening to do something which will hurt her so much, and so you’ve sworn false oaths, perjured yourself in saying that you do love her (and specifically in making your marriage vows: cherish invokes that context). And – most of all? – you are reasoning badly, not thinking straight, not using your intelligence (and your education); you’re like an incompetent soldier left in charge of powder; you’re perversely turning all your advantages into disadvantages. The gunpowder simile picks up Romeo’s earlier metaphor of the gunshot, and also, of course, the Friar’s own conceit of fire and powder, the violent delights and their violent ends again. Dismembered resonates: it brings back the language of bodily wholeness and integrity, and threatens it once more. We tend to think now of guns vs blades as a design choice, sometimes a theatrical problem (Baz solves it with his customary stylish wit) but the Friar, and Romeo – and Shakespeare and his audience – are keenly aware of the difference between them. Romeo’s dagger – remember it’s there, in the scene, he’s just had it taken off him – stands for singularity, agency, a particular kind of honourable masculinity (we might think of swordplay as a form of wit and intelligence, a skill, a marker of status and identity). The gun and the gunpowder are about disorder, uncontrollable violence, loss of agency (and status), loss of purpose. You have a chance, and you have the personal qualities and advantages to make the most of that chance, says the Friar, but unless you get a grip, it’ll all just blow up in your face, much more messily than you might imagine. And you’ll hurt Juliet as much as yourself.