Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee

to his grace!

Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs❜d:
An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.

La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme I came to talk of:-Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married?

Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. Nurse. An honour!" were not I thine only

nurse,

I'd say, thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger

than you,

Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,

Are made already mothers: by my count,
I was a mother much upon these years
That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief;-
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax.

La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.

This night you shall behold him at our feast:
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,13
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every several lineament,
And see how one another lends content;
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover:

The fish lives in the sea; and 't is much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide :
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.

Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by men.

La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?

Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye, Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

So (A). The folio and (C) have hour, both in Juliet's and the Nurse's speeches.

b The next seventeen lines are wanting in (A).

c (B), married; which reading has been adopted by Steevens and Malone, in preference to several, in the folio and (C).

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.

La. Cap. We follow thee.--Juliet, the county

stays.

Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.—A Street.

Enter ROMEO, Mercutio, BenvOLIO, with Five or Six Maskers, Torch-Bearers, and others.

Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?

Or shall we on without apology?

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity : We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,14 Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: " But, let them measure us by what they will, We'll measure them a measure,15 and be Rom. Give me a torch, 16-I am not for this ambling;

Being but heavy I will bear the light.

gone.

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you

dance.

Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes,

With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead,
So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
And soar with them above a common bound.

Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft,
To soar with his light feathers; and so bound,"
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love:

Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like thorn. Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough

a

A visor for a visor!-what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.
Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner
in,

But every man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart,

Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; 17
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase,-
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on,
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, 18 the constable's own word:

If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this, sir reverence,19 love,b wherein thou stick'st

Up to the ears.-Come, we burn daylight, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not so.
Mer.
I mean, sir, in delay
We waste our lights in vain, lights, lights, by
day."

Take our good meaning; for our judgment sits
Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.
Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask;
But 't is no wit to go.

Mer.
Why, may one ask?
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
Mer.

Rom. Well, what was yours?
Mer.

And so did I.

That dreamers often lie.

with you.

She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies d
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep :
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs,
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
Her traces of the smallest spider's web;
Her collars of the moonshine's watery beams;
Her whip of cricket's bone; the lash of film:
Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,

Time out o' mind the fairies' coach makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of
love:

On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight:

O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream; Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted

are.

Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit :"
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night; 20
And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This is she-b

A suit. A court solicitation was called a suit;-a process, a suit at law.

b It is desirable to exhibit the first draft of a performance so exquisitely finished as this celebrated description, in which every word is a study. And yet it is curious, that in the quarto of 1609, and in the folio (from which we print), and in both of which the corrections of the author are apparent, the whole speech is given as if it were prose. The original quarto of 1597 gives the passage as follows:"Ah then I see queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and doth come In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of a burgomaster, Drawne with a team of little atomy, Athwart men's noses when they lie asleep. Her waggon spokes are made of spinners' webs. The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces are the moon-shine watery beams, The collars cricket bones, the lash of films. Her waggoner is a small gray-coated fly Not half so big as is a little worm, Picked from the lazy finger of a maid. And in this sort she gallops up and down Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love. O'er courtiers' knees, who strait on courtesies dream; O'er ladies' lips who dream on kisses strait, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometimes she gallops o'er a lawyer's lap, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometimes comes she with a tythe pig's tail Tickling a parson's nose that lies asleep And then dreams he of another benefice. Sometimes she gallops o'er a soldier's nose, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, countermines, Of healths five fathom deep, and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,

Rom.

Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace, Thou talk'st of nothing.

Mer. True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air; And more inconstant than the wind who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;

Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives

Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With this night's revels; and expire the term
Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,
By some vile forfeit of untimely death:
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail!-On, lusty gentlemen.
Ben. Strike, drum.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-A Hall in Capulet's House.

Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher!

2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 't is a foul thing.

1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard,21 look to the plate :-good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan; 2 Serv. Ay, boy; ready.

1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked for, and sought for, in the great chamber. 2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too.Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all. [They retire behind.

You are welcome, gentlemen!-- Come, musicians, play.

A hall! a hall give room, and foot it, girls.
[Music plays, and they dance.
More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,
And quench the fire, the room is grown too
hot.-

Ah, sirrah, this unlooked-for sport comes well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;
For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is 't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask?

Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night

a Thus (4). (C) and folio, walk about.

b This passage, to "More light, ye knaves," is wanting in (4).

Good cousin Capulet. The word cousin, in Shakspere, was applied to any collateral relation of whatever degree; thus we have in this play "Tybalt, my cousin, Oh my brother's child." Richard the Third calls his nephew York, cousin, while the boy calls Richard, uncle. In the same play York's grandmother calls him cousin, while he replies grandam. d Her beauty hangs. All the ancient editions which can b considered authorities-the four quartos and the first folioread It seems she hangs. The reading of her beauty is from

As a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And touching hers, make blessed my rude
hand.

Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague:

Fetch me my rapier, boy:-What! dares the slave

Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
Now by the stock and honour of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman ? wherefore
storm you so?

Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
A villain, that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.
1 Cap. Young Romeo is 't?
Tyb.

'Tis he, that villain Romeo.

1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him
alone,

He bears him like a portly gentleman;
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him,
To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:
I would not for the wealth of all this town,
Here in my house do him disparagement:
Therefore be patient, take no note of him,
It is my will; the which if thou respect,
Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns,
An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest;
I'll not endure him.

1 Cap. He shall be endur'd. What, goodman boy!-I say, he shall;-Go to ;

Am I the master here, or you? go to. You'll not endure him!-God shall mend my soul

You'll make a mutiny among my guests!

the second folio. Why then, it may be asked, do we depart from our usual principle, and reject an undoubted ancient reading? Because the reading which we give has become familiar, has passed into common use wherever our language is spoken,-is quoted in books as frequently as any of the other passages of Shakspere which constantly present themselves as examples of his exquisite power of description. Here, it appears to us, is a higher law to be observed than that of adherence to the ancient copies. It is the same with the celebrated passage,

"Or dedicate his beauty to the sun." All the ancient copies read the same. We believe this to be a misprint; but, even if that could not be alleged, we should feel ourselves justified in retaining the sun. Such instances, of course, present but very rare exceptions to a general rule. a A), Like. b So (C) and folio. (A), happy.

22

meeting

Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [Erit.
Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand
[To JULIET.
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this,-
My lips, two blushing pilgrims ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender
kiss.

Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do

touch,

Jul.
You kiss by the book.
Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word
with you.

Rom. What is her mother?
Nurse.

Marry, bachelor,
Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous :
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
I tell you, he, that can lay hold of her,
Shall have the chinks.

Rom. Is she a Capulet? O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. Ben. Away, begone; the sport is at the best. Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. 1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;

We have a trifling foolish banquet towards."
Is it e'en so? Why, then I thank you all;
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night :-
More torches here! -Come on then; let's to bed.
Ah, sirrah, [To 2 Cap.] by my fay, it waxes late;
I'll to my rest.

[Exeunt all but JULIET and NURSE.
Towards. Ready; at hand.