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Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's face,

And doth it give me such a sight as this?

La. Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!

Most miserable hour, that e'er time saw
In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!

But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,"

And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight.
Nurse. O wo! O woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day! most woful day,
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
Never was seen so black a day as this:
O woful day, O woful day!

Par. Beguil'd divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
Most détestable death, by thee beguil'd,
By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown!
O love! O life!-not life, but love in death!
Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now
To murder murder our solemnity?—

O child! O child!-my soul, and not my child!Dead art thou, dead!-alack! my child is dead; And, with my child, my joys are buried.

Fri. Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives

not

In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
And all the better is it for the maid:
Your part in her you could not keep from death;
But Heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
The most you sought was-her promotion;
For 'twas your heaven she should be advanc'd:
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd,
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
O, in this love, you love your child so ill,
That you run mad, seeing that she is well:
She's not well married, that lives married long;
But she's best married, that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,
In all her best array bear her to church:
For though fond nature bids us all lament,
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.

Cap. All things, that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.
Fri. Sir, go you in,—and, madam, go with
him ;-

And go, sir Paris;-every one prepare To follow this fair corse unto her grave: The heavens do lour upon you, for some ill; Move them no more, by crossing their high will. [Exe. Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris and Friar. 1 Mus. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be

gone.

Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up; put up; For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. [Exit Nurse. 1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.

Enter Peter.

Pet. Musicians, O musicians, Heart's ease,

(1) Dumps were heavy mournful tunes. (2) To gleek is to scoff, and a gleekman signified a minstrel,

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Pet. I will then give it you soundly.

1 Mus. What will you give us?

Pet. No money, on my faith; but the gleek:2 I will give you the minstrel.

1 Mus. Then will I give you the serving-creature. Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, I'll fa you; Do you note me?

1 Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 2 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

Pet. Then have at you with my wit; I will drybeat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger:-Answer me like men:

When griping grief the heart doth wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
Then music, with her silver sound;

Why, silver sound? why, music with her silver sound?

What say you, Simon Catling?

1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.

Pet. Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck ?3 2 Mus. I say-silver sound, because musicians sound for silver.

Pet. Pretty too!-What say you, James Soundpost?

3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say.

Pet. O, I cry you mercy! you are the singer: I will say for you. It is music with her silver sound, because such fellows as you have seldom gold for sounding :

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Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
How doth my lady? Is my father well?
How fares my Juliet? That I ask again;
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.

Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body sleeps in Capels' monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives;
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
And presently took post to tell it you:
O pardon me for bringing these ill news,
Since you did leave it for my office, sir.

Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars! Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper, And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.

Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you thus: Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure.

Rom. Tush, thou art deceiv'd; Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do: Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?

Bal. No, my good lord. Rom.

No matter: get thee gone, And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight. [Exit Balthasar. Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. Let's see for means:-O, mischief, thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! I do remember an apothecary,And hereabouts he dwells,-whom late I noted In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples;' meagre were his looks, Sharp misery had worn him to the bones; And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff'd, and other skins Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves

A beggarly account of empty boxes,

Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said-
An if a man did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.

O, this same thought did but fore-run my need;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house:
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut-
What, ho! apothecary!

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poor;

Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding geer2
As will disperse itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead;
And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath
As violently, as hasty powder fir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law Is death, to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,
And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes,
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery,

The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law:
The world affords no law to make thee rich;
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.
Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents.
Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will,
(2) Stuff.

(1) Herbs.

And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight.
Rom. There is thy gold; worse poison to men's
souls,

Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not
sell:

I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.
Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh.-
Come, cordial, and not poison; go with me
To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee. [Ere.
SCENE II.-Friar Laurence's cell. Enter Friar
John.

John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!
Enter Friar Laurence.

Lau. This same should be the voice of friar
John.-

Welcome from Mantua: What says Romeo?
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.

John. Going to find a barefoot brother out,
One of our order to associate me,
Here in this city visiting the sick,
And finding him, the searchers of the town,
Suspecting that we both were in a house
Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;
So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.
Lau. Who bare my letter then to Romeo?
John. I could not send it,-here it is again,—
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.

Lau. Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
The letter was not nice, but full of charge,
Of dear import; and the neglecting it
May do much danger: Friar John, go hence;
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.

(Eri.

John. Brother, I'll go and bring't thee. Lau. Now must I to the monument alone: Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake; She will beshrew me much, that Romeo Hath had no notice of these accidents: But I will write again to Mantua, And keep her at my cell till Romeo come: Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb!

[Erit.

SCENE III-A church-yard; in it, a monument belonging to the Capulets. Enter Paris; and his Page, bearing flowers and a torch.

Par. Give me thy torch, boy: Hence, and stand aloof;

Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
So shall no foot upon the church-yard tread
(Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,)
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone
Here in the church-yard; yet I will adventure.
[Retires.

Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew thy bridal bed:

Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit dost contain
The perfect model of eternity;

Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,
Accept this latest favour at my hands;
That living honour'd thee, and, being dead,

(3) i. e. On a trivial or idle subject.

1

With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb!

[The boy whistles. The boy gives warning, something doth approach. What cursed foot wanders this way to-night, To cross my obsequies, and true-love's rites? What, with a torch! muffle me, night, a while. [Retires.

Enter Romeo and Balthazar, with a torch, mat-
tock, &c.

Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrenching
iron.

Hold, take this letter; early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
Give me the light: Upon thy life I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,
And do not interrupt me in my course.
Why I descend into this bed of death,
Is, partly, to behold my lady's face:

But, chiefly, to take hence from her dead finger
A precious ring; a ring that I must use

In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone :-
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further shall intend to do,
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry church-yard with thy limbs:
The time and my intents are savage-wild;
More fierce, and more inexorable far,
Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.

Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship.-Take

thou that:

Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow.
Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout;
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Retires.
Rom. Thou détestable maw, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,

[Breaking open the door of the monument.
And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food.
Par. This is that banish'd haughty Montague,
That murder'd my love's cousin ;-with which grief,
It is supposed the fair creature died;-
And here is come to do some villanous shame
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.-

[Advances.

Stop, thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague;
Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death?
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.

Rom. I must, indeed; and therefore came I

hither.

Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man,
Fly hence and leave me;-think upon these gone;
Let them affright thee.-I beseech thee, youth,
Heap not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury:-0, be gone!
By heaven, I love thee better than myself:
For I come hither arm'd against myself:
Stay not, begone ;-live, and hereafter say
A madman's mercy bade thee run away.
Par. I do defy thy conjurations,2
And do attach thee as a felon here.
Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee,
boy.
[They fight.
Page. O lord! they fight: I wiH go call the
[Exit Page.

watch.

Par. 0, I am slain! [Falls.]-If thou be merciful,

Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

Rom. In faith, I will:-Let me peruse this
face;-

Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris:--
What said my man, when my betossed soul
Did not attend him as we rode ? I think,
He told me, Paris should have married Juliet:
Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
To think it was so?-0, give me thy hand,
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave,-
A grave? O, no; a lantern, slaughter'd youth,
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
This vault a feasting presence full of light.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.

[Laying Paris in the monument.
How oft when men are at the point of death
Have they been merry? which their keepers call
A lightning before death: O, how may I
Call this a lightning ?-O, my love! my wife!
Death that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.--
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
O, what more favour can I do to thee,
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,
To sunder his that was thine enemy?
Forgive me, cousin!-Ah! dear Juliet,
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe
That unsubstantial death is amorous;
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
For fear of that, I will still stay with thee;
And never from this palace of dim night
Depart again; here, here will I remain
With worms that are thy chambermaids; O, here
Will I set up my everlasting rest;

And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh.-Eyes, look your
last!

Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!—
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love!--[Drinks.] O, true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

[Dies.

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[Dies.

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(1) i. e. Action of importance. (2) I do refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do, illuminated. i. e. depart.

VOL. II.

1 Watch. Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither.

Bal.

Full half an hour.

Fri. Go with me to the vault.
Bal.

I dare not, sir:

My master knows not, but I am gone hence;
And fearfully did menace me with death,
If I did stay to look on his intents.

Enter another Watchman, with Friar Laurence.
3 Watch. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs,
and weeps:

Fri. Stay then, I'll go alone :-Fear comes upon We took this mattock and this spade from him,

me:

O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.

Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,

I dreamt my master and another fought,
And that my master slew him.

Fri.
Romeo! [Advances.
Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre ?-
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?

[Enters the monument.
Romeo! O, pale!-Who else? what, Paris too?
And steep'd in blood?-Ah, what an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable chance!-
The lady stirs.
[Juliet wakes and stirs.
Jul. O, comfortable friar! where is my lord?
I do remember well where I should be,
And there I am:-Where is my Romeo?

[Noise within. Fri. I hear some noise.-Lady, come from that

nest

Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;
A greater power than we can contradict

Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away:
Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;
And Paris top. Come, I'll dispose of thee'
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns :
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
Come, go, good Juliet,-[Noise again.]

stay no longer.

As he was coming from this church-yard side.
1 Watch. A great suspicion; Stay the friar too.

Enter the Prince and Attendants.
Prince. What misadventure is so early up,
That calls our person from our morning's rest?
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and others.
Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek

abroad?

Some-Juliet, and some-Paris; and all run,
La. Cap. The people in the street cry-Romeo,
With open outery toward our monument.

Prince. What fear is this, which startles in our
ears?

1 Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris slain; And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, Warm and new kill'd.

Prince. Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.

1 Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Ro-
meo's man;

With instruments upon them, fit to open
These dead men's tombs.

Cap. O, heavens!-0, wife! look how our daugh-
ter bleeds!

dare This dagger hath mista'en,-for lo! his house1
Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.
[Exit. Is empty on the back of Montague,
What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true-love's hand?
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end ;-
O churl! drink all? and leave no friendly drop
To help me after?-I will kiss thy lips;
Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them,
To make me die with a restorative.
Thy lips are warm!

And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom.
La. Cap. O me! this sight of death is as a bell,
That warns my old age to a sepulchre.

[Kisses him.

I Watch. [Within.] Lead, boy:-Which way? Jul. Yea, noise ?-then I'll be brief.-O happy dagger! [Snatching Romeo's dagger. This is thy sheath; [Stabs herself.] there rust, and let me die.

[Falls on Romeo's body, and dies. Enter Watch, with the Page of Paris. Page. This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.

1 Watch. The ground is bloody; Search about the church-yard:

Go, some of you, whoe'er you find, attach.

[Exeunt some.
Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;-
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead,
Who here hath lain these two days buried.-
Go, tell the prince,-run to the Capulets,-
Raise up the Montagues,-some others search;-
[Exeunt the other Watchmen.
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
But the true ground of all these piteous woes,
We cannot without circumstance descry.

Enter some of the Watch, with Balthasar.

Enter Montague and others.

Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early up, To see thy son and heir more early down.

Mon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath: What further wo conspires against mine age? Prince. Look, and thou shalt see.

Mon. O thou untaught! what manners is in this,
To press before thy father to a grave?

Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
Till we can clear these ambiguities,
And know their spring, their head, their true de-

scent;

And then will I be general of your woes,
And lead you even to death: Mean time forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.-
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet most suspected, as the time and place
Doth make against me, of this direful murder;
And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
Myself condemn'd and myself accus'd.
Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know
in this.

Fri. I will be brief, for my short date of breath
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.

Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;
And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:
I married them; and their stolen marriage-day

2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man, we found him in Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death ̧

the church-yard.

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Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city;
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd.
You-to remove that siege of grief from her,-

Betroth'd, and would have married her perforce,
To county Paris :-Then comes she to me;
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some means
To rid her from this second marriage,
Or, in my cell there would she kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
A sleeping-potion: which so took effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her

The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo,
That he should hither come at this dire night,
To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
Being the time the potion's force should cease.
But he which bore iny letter, friar John,
Was staid by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my letter back: Then all alone,
At the prefixed hour of her waking,
Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:
But, when I came (some minute ere the time
Of her awakening,) here untimely lay
The noble Paris, and true Romeo, dead.
She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heaven with patience:
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
But (as it seems,) did violence on herself.
All this I know; and to the marriage
Her nurse is privy: And, if aught in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time,
Unto the rigour of severest law.

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This play is one of the most pleasing of our author's performances. The scenes are busy and various, incidents numerous and important, the catastrophe irresistibly affecting, and the process of the action carried on with such probability, at least with such congruity to popular opinions, as tragedy requires.

Here is one of the few attempts of Shakspeare to exhibit the conversation of gentlemen, to repre. sent the airy sprightliness of juvenile elegance. Mr. Dryden mentions a tradition, which might easily reach his time, of a declaration made by Shakspeare, that he was obliged to kill Mercutio in the third Act, lest he should have been killed by him. Yet he thinks him no such formidable person, but that he might have lived through the play, and died in his bed, without danger to the poet. Dryden well knew, had he been in quest of truth, in a vault,pointed sentence, that more regard is commonly had to the words than the thought, and that it is Prince. Give me the letter, I will look on it.- very seldom to be rigorously understood. MercuWhere is the county's page, that rais'd the watch?-tio's wit, gaiety, and courage, will always procure Sirrah, what made your master in this place?

Prince. We still have known thee for a holy man.
Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this?
Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death
And then in post he came from Mantua,
To this same place, to this same monument.
This letter he early bid me give his father;
And threaten'd me with death, going in the
if I departed not, and left him there.

him friends that wish him a longer life; but his

Page. He came with flowers to strew his lady's death is not precipitated, he has lived out the time

grave;

And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:

Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb;
And, by and by, my master drew on him;
And then I ran away to call the watch.

Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's
words,

allotted him in the construction of the play; nor do I doubt the ability of Shakspeare to have continued his existence, though some of his sallies are perhaps out of the reach of Dryden; whose genius was not very fertile of merriment, nor ductile to humour, but acute, argumentative, comprehensive, and sublime.

The Nurse is one of the characters in which the author delighted: he has, with great subtilty of distinction, drawn her at once loquacious and secret, obsequious and insolent, trusty and disho

Their course of love, the tidings of her death:
And here he writes-that he did buy a poison
Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.-
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!-nest.
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
That Heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!
And I, for winking at your discords too,
Have lost a brace of kinsmen:'-all are punish'd.
Cap. O, brother Montague, give me thy hand:
(1) Mercutio and Paris,

His comic scenes are happily wrought, but his pathetic strains are always polluted with some unexpected depravations. His persons, however distressed, have a conceit left them in their misery, a miserable conceit.

JOHNSON.

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