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Towards him I made; but he was 'ware of me, Feather of lead, bright smoke,cold fire, fick health!
Still-waking Neep, that is not what it is !
Ber. No, cuz, I rather weep.
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen Ben. At thy good heart's oppression.
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
With more of thine : this love that thou halt shown,
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
What is it elle a madness moft discreet,
Mor. Both by mylelf, and many other friends : This is not Romeo, he's some other where.
Ben. Tell me in sadness', who she is you love?
R. What, shall I groan, and tell thee?
Ben. Groan? why, no;
But sadly tell me, who.
Rom. Bid a fick man in sadness make his will:
In fadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
fair I love.
Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss : The'll not
[Excunt. From love's weak childish bow' the lives unharm'd.
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
Nor bid the encounter of a:lailing eyes,
Nor ope her lap to faint-reducing gold :
0, she is rich in beauty ; only poor,
For beauty, starv'd with her severity,
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wile; wisely too fair,
Ben. Alas, that love, fo gentle in his view, She hath forsworn to love ; and, in that vow,
Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled ftill, Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her.
Examine other beauties.
Rom. 'Tis the way
Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair ;
He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget
I That is, tell me in feriousness. 2 Mr. Theobald reads, “ With her dies beauty's fore."
Shew me a mistress that is pailing fair,
One pain is lelien'd by another's anguish ; What doth her beauty serve, but as a note Turn giddy, and be bolp by backward turning ; Where I may read, who país'u that pating fail' ? One desperate grief cules with another's Languth: Farewell ; tbou canit nct teach ine to forget. Take thou some new infection to thy eye, Bon. I'll pay that doctrine, ır clle die in debt. And the rank poison of the old will die.
[Exeant. Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. SCENE II.
Bin. For what, I pray thee?
Rom. For your broken thin.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad ?
Rom. Noe mad, but bound more than a mad-au
[rent Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both ; Se v. Gou gi' good e'en.- I pray, sir, can you And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long.
Rom. Ay, mine owo fortune in my misery. But now, my lord, what say you to my fuit? Sery. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: Cap. But laying o'er what I have said before :
But pray, can you read any thing you fee? My child is yet a stranger in the world,
Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the language. She hath not seen the change of fourtcen years ; Serv. Ye lay bonestly; Reft you merry! Let two more summers wither in their pnde, Ron. Stay, fellow; I can read. Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
[Ple reads ibe lijf.] Par. Younger than the are happy mothers made. “ Signior Martino, and lis wife, and daughters; Cap. And too soon marr'd are thole 10 einly “ County Anselm, and his beauteolis fuiters; The made.
“ lady widow of Vitruvio ; Signior Placeniu, and The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but the, “ his lovely nieces; Miercutio, and his brother She is the hopeful lady of my earth':
“ Valentine ; Mine uncle Capulet, his wile and But woo her, gentie Paris, get her heart, “ daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Lina; My will to her consent is but a part ;
Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybait ; Luco, An the agree, within her scope of choice " and the lively Helena." Lies my consent and fair according voice. A fair assembly; Whicher should they come ? This night I hold an old accustom'd fealt,
Serv. Up. Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Rom. Whither to fupper ? Such as I love ; and you among the store,
Sov. To our house. One more, most welcome, makes my number more. Rou. Whose house? Al my poor house, look to behold this night Scro. My master's. Earth treading itars, that make dark heaven light : Rom. Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before. Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
Sev. Now I'll tell you without alk.ng : Mly When well-apparel'd April on the heel
matter is the great rich Capulet; and if you be Of limping winter treads, even fuch delight not of the house of Montagucs, I pray, come and Among fresh female buds shall you this night crush a cup of wine 2. Reit you merry. Inherit at my housc; hear all, all see,
Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's And like her most, whose merit moft shall be : Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'it; Such, amongst view of many, mine being one, "Cith all the admired beauties of Verona : May ítand in number, though in reckoning none. Go thither; and, with untainted eye, Come, go with me :--Go, hrrah, trudge about Compare her face with some that I shall show, Through fair Verona, find thote persons out, And I will make thee think thy swan a crows. Whole names are written there ; and to them say, Roms. When the devout religion of mine eye My house and welcome on their pleasure Itay. Maintains luch talíhood, then turn tears to nues!
[Exeunt Capulet and Paris. And the e,-who,often drown’d,could never die, Sere. Find them out, whose names are written Traníparent hereticks, be burnt for liars ! here? It is written--that the shoemaker thould One fairer than my love! the all-feeing sun meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his latt, Ne'er saw her match, fince first the world begun, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his Ber. Tut! tut! you saw her fair, none elie being nets; but I am sent to find thole persons, whore Herself poisd with herself in either eye: hos names are here writ, and can never find what But in those crystal scales, let there be weighū Dames the wiiting person hath here writ. I must Your lady's love ; against some other mad to the learned :-In good time.
That I will thew you, shining at this fealt,
And she shall scant shew well, that now shew's best, Ben. Tut, man ! one fire burns out another's Rom. I'll go along, no such fight to be theun, burning,
But to rejoice in iplendor of mine own. [Exezriba
I This is a Gallicism : Fille de terre is the French phrase for an heiress. 2 A cant expreffion which secms to have been once common among low people. We still lay—to crack a bottle. 3 Tour Indy's love is the love you bear to your lady, which in our language is commonly used for the lady herself.
La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold
thy peace, A Room in Capulet's House.
Nurse. Yes, madam ; Yet I cannot chüse but Enter Lady Capulet, and Nurse.
To think it should leave crying, and lay-Ay :' La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow forth to me.
A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone; Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead,—at twelve A par'lous knuck; and ii cried bitterly.
• Yea,' quoth my husband, • fall'st upon thy face? year old,
• Thou wilt fall backward when thou com'itto age; I bade her come. What, lamb! what, lady-bird! God forbid !--where's this girl?-what, Juliet !
"Wilt thou not, Jule?' it Itinted, and said Ay.'
Jul. And Itint thou too, I pray chce, nurie, say I. Enter Juliet.
Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to Jul. How now, who calls ?
his grace! Nurse. Your mother.
Thou wast the prettiest bahe that c'er I nurs'd; Jul. Madam, I am here ; what is your will ? An I might live to see thee married once, La. Cap. This is the matter : Nurse, give leave I have my with. awhile,
La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again ;| I came to talk of:-Tell me, daughter Juliet, I have remember'd me, thou thalt hear our counsel. How stands your disposition to be married? Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age. Jud. It is an honour that I dream not of.
Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse, La. Cap. She's not fourteen.
I'd say, thou hadit suck'd wisdom from tlay teat. Nirje. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,
La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; And yet, to my teen' be it spoken, I have but four,
younger than you, She's not fourteen : How long is't now to Lam- Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, mas-tide ?
Are made already mothers : by my count, La. Cap. A fortnight, and odd days.
I was your mother much upon these years Nurse. Even or odil, of all days in the year, That you are now a niaid. Thus then, in brief; Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen. The valiant Paris secks you for his love. Susan and the, God reft all Christian souls ! Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, Were of an age.-Well, Susan is with God; As all the world---Why, he's a man of wax. She was too good for me : But, as I said,
La.Cap. Verona's summerlach not such a flower. On Lammas-eve at night thall the be fourteen; Nurse. Nay, lie's a flower; in faith, a very flower,
That shall the, marry ; I remember it well. La. Cap. What say you ? can you love the gen'Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years ;
tleman ? And she was wean'da-ne er ihall forget it,-- This night you shall behold him at our feast : Of all the days of the year, upon that day : Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; Sitting i’the sun under the dove-house wall, Examine every several lineament, My lord and you were then at Mantua :
And see how one another lends content; Nay, I do bear a brain :--but, as I said,
And what obscurd in this fair volume lies, When it did taste the worm-wood on the nipple Find written in the margin 3 of his eyes. Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool ! This precious book of lore, this unbound lover, To see it teachy, and fall out with the dug. (trow, To beautify him, only lacks a cover: Shake, quoth the dove-house : 'twas no need, 1 The fish lives in the tea; and 'tis much pride, To bid me trudge.
For fair without the fair within to hide : And since that time it is eleven years :
That book in many's eyes doth harc the glory, For then she could stand alone ; nay, by the rood, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story, She could have run and waddled all about. So all you Nare all that he doth polleis, For even the day before, the broke her brow : By having him, making yourself no less. And then my husband-God be with his foul ! Nurse. No less ? nay, bigger; women grow by 'A was a merry man ;-took up the child;
[love • Yea,' quoth he, · doit thou fall upon thy face? La.Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' • Thou wilt fall backward, when thou hast more Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move :
But no more deep will I endart mint eye, • Wilt thou not, jule?' and, by my holy-dam, Than your consent gives ftrength to make it fly. The pretty wretch left crying, and faid-Ay :'
Enter a Servant. To see now, how a jest shall come about !
Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper I warrant, an I should live a thoutand years, serv'd up, you call’d, my young lady ask'd for, the I never Tould forget it ; • Wilt thou not, Jule?' nurse curs'd in the pantry, and every thing in exquoth he:
tremity. I must hence to wait ; I beseech you, And, pretty fool, is stinted ?, and said Ay.' follow straight.
3 The comments on an
lj.c. to my sorrow. 21. e. it stopped, it forbore from weeping. cient books were always printed in the margin.
La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county I'll be a candle-holder, and look on , stays.
The game was ne'er fo fair, and I am done. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy Mer. Tut! dun's the moule 7, the constable's days.
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire, SCENE IV.
Or (save your reverence) love, wherein thou fuckit A Street.
Up to the ears.--Come, we burn day-light, .
Rom. Nay, that's not so.
Mer. I mean, fır, in delay
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Ron. What, shall this speech be spoke for our Take our good meaning; for our judginent fits excuse ?
Five times in that, ere once in our fine wits. Or shall we on without apology?
Rom. And we mean well, in going to this main; Ben. The date is out of such prolixity ? : But 'tis no wit to go. We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf, Mer. Why, may one ask? Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
Mer. And so did I.
Mer. That dreamers often lye.
She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes
Mier. Nay, gentlc Ronseo, we must have you On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Athwart men's noses as they lie alleep :
Mer. You are a lover ; borrow Cupid's wings, The traces, of the smallest spider's web; And foar with them above a common bound. The collars, of the moonshine's watry beams;
Rom. I am too fore enpearcel with his faft, Her whis, of cricket's bone ; the laih, of tim: To soar with his light feathers; and so bound, Her waggoner, a small grey-coated 3:17., I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe :
Not half to big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid :
Made by the joiner 1quirrel, or old grih,
(straight : Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'ies Give me a case to put my visage in ;
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees :
[Putting on a mask. O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream; A visor for a visor what care I,
Which oft the angry Mab with blifters plagues, What curious eye doth quote 4 deformities? Because their breaths with sweet-meats tainted 2a Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me. Sometime the gallops o'er a courtier's nofe,
Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner in, And then dreams he of smelling out a fuit: But every man betake him to his legs.
And sometime comes the with a tithe-pig's ta:), Rom. A torch for me ; let wantons, light of Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies atleep, heart,
Then dreams he of another benefice : Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels s; Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, For I am proverb'd with a grandfire phrase, And then dreams he of cutting foreign thadats,
1 It was a custoın observed by those who came uninvited to a masquerade, with a defire to conceal themselves for the lake of 1otrigue, or to enjoy the greater freedom of conversation, to preface their entry on these occasions by some specch in praise of the beauty of the ladies, or the generosity of the entertainer; and to the prolixity of such introductions we believe Romeo is made to allude. 3 Sc note 7, p. 957
3 A torch-bearer seems to have been a conitant attendant on every tronp of maks 4 To quote is to observe. s We have already observed, that it was anciently the cultom to firew rooms with rushes, before carpets were in use. The stage was also anciently strewn with rs. 6 The pioverö which Romeo means, is contained in the line immediately following: To botine cardie, is a very common proverbial expression, for being an idle spectator. 7 Dur's the media is a proverbial expresion, the precite meaning of which cannot be determined. 8 Draw dut out of ik: mire, teenis to have been a game. 9 To burn day-light is a proverbialexpresiion, used when candles &c. are lighted in the day time. 10 Atory is no more than an obsolete substitute for alox,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Enter Capulzi, &c. with ebe Gefis and ibe Maskers. Of healths five fathom deep ; and then anon
i Cup. Welcome, gentlemen ! ladies, that have Drums in his ear ; at which he starts, and wakes ;
their feet And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you :-And sleeps again. This is that very Mab, Ah ha, my mistrelles ! which of you all That plats the manes of horses in the night ; Willnow deny to dance? The that makes dainty, she, And cakes the elf-locks in foul nuttish hairs", I'll swear, hath corns ; Am I come near you now? Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes. You are welcome, gentlemen ! I have seen the day, This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That I have worn a vilor ; and could tell That presses them, and learns them first to bear, A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Making them women of good carriage.
Such as would pleate ;--'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone: This is the
You are welcome, gentlemen.--Come, musicians, Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace ;
play. Thou talk'st of nothing..
A hall ! a hall 5! give room, and foot it, girls. Mer. True, I talk of dreams ;
[Musck plays, and they dance. Which are the children of an idle brain,
More light, ye knaves ; and turn the tables up, Begot of nothing but vain phantasy ;
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hoi. Which is as thin of subitance as the air ;
Ah, firrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Nay, fit, nay, fit, good cousin Capulet ; Even now the frozen bofom of the north, For you and I are past our dancing days : And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, How long is 't now, lince latt yourself and I Turning his face to the dew-dropping fouth. Were in a mark ? Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our 2 Cap. By 'r lady, thirty years. (much : selves ;
i Cap. What, man ! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so Sapper is done, and we İhall come too late. "Tis lince the nuptial of Lucentio,
Rom. I fear, too early : for my mind misgives, Come pentecoft as quickly as it will, Some consequence, vet hanging in the stars, Some five and twenty years ; and then we mask'd. Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more : his son is elder, sir ; With this night's revels; and expire the term
His son is thirty. Of a defpifed life, clos'd in my breast,
i Cap. Will you tell me that? By fome vile forfeit of untimely death :
His son was but a ward two years ago. But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand Direct my fail !-On, lulty gentlemen.
Of yonder knight? Dm. Strike, drum.
[Exeunt. Serv. I know not, fir.
Rom. O, the doth teach the torches to burn bright!
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Achiop's ear:
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So thews a snowy dove trvoping with crows, Servy. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to | As yonder lady o'er her fellows fhows. take away? he thift a trencher 2 ! he scrape a The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, trencher !
And, touching hers, make liarpy my rude band. · 2 Seru. When good manners shall lie all in one Did my heart love 'till now: fortwear it, light! or two men's hands, and they unwalh'd too, 'tis a For I ne'er saw true beauty 'till this night. fuul thing.
Tyb. This, by his voice, Inould be a Montague:I Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove Fetch me my rapier, boy :---What, dares the flave the court-cupboard 3, look to the plate : good Come hither, cover'd with an antick face, thou, save me a piece of march-pane * ; and, as To fleer and scorn at our folemnity ? thou lov'it me, let the porter let in Sufan Grind. Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, Itone, and Nell.- Intony ! and Potpan! To strike him dead I hold it not a fu. 2 Seru. Ay, boy ; ready.
i Cap. Why, how now, kiniman? wherefure i Sery. You are look'd for, and callid for, ask'd
storm you so ? for, and fought for, in the great chamber.
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; 2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too. A villain, that is hither come in Ipight, Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer To scom at our solemnity this night. liver take all.
Excunt. Cap. Young Romeo is 't?
I This was a common fuperftition, and seems to have had its rise from the horrid disease called the Plica Polonica. 2 Trenchers were still used by persons of good fathion in our author's time. They continued common much longer in many public societies, particularly in cola leges and inns of court; and are ftili retained at Lincoln's- inn. y Meaning perhaps Wide we call at present the fede-board. 4 March-pane was a confection made of pistachio-nu s, de monds, and sugar, &c. and in high efteer in Shakspeare's time. It was a constant article in detterts of our anccitors. s This exciamation occurs frequently in the old cuincdies, and sons, make room.