Nurfe. Now, afore God, I am fo vext, that every part about me quivers Scurvy knave! Pray you, Sir, a word and as I told you, my young lady bid me enquire you out; what the bid me say, I will keep to myfelf: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they fay, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they fay, for the gentlewoman is young; and therefore if you should deal double with her, truly, it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

Rom. Commend me to thy lady and mistress, I proteft unto thee.

Nurfe. Good heart, and, i'faith, I will tell her as much: Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.

Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurfe? thou dost not mark me.

Nurfe. I will tell her, Sir, that you do proteft; which, as I take it, is a gentleman-like offer.

Rom. Bid her devise some means to come to fhrift this afternoon;

And there fhe fhall at friar Lawrence' cell

Be fhriv'd and married: here is for thy pains.
Nurfe. No, truly, Sir, not a penny.

Rom. Go to, I fay, you fhall.

Nurfe. This afternoon, Sir? well, she shall be the
Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abby-wall:
Within this hour my man shall be with thee,
And bring thee cords, made like a tackled ftair,
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy

Must be my convoy in the fecret night.
Farewel, be trufty, and I'll quit thy pains.

Nurfe. Now, God in heav'n bless thee! hark you, Sir.
Rom. What fayest thou, my dear nurse ?

Nurfe. Is your man fecret? did you ne'er hear say, Two may keep counfel, putting one away?

Rem. I warrant thee, my man's as true as fteel. Nurfe. Well, Sir, my miftrefs is the sweetest lady; Lord, Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing-O,there is a noble man in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but fhe, good foul, had as lieve fee a

toad,

toad, a very toad, as fee him: I anger her fometimes, and tell her, that Paris is the properer man; but I'll warrant you, when I fay fo, the looks as pale as any clout in the verfal world. Doth not rosemary and R

meo begin both with a letter?

Rom. Ay, nurfe, what of that? both with an R. (18) Nurfe. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R. is for thee? No; I know, it begins with another letter; and fhe hath the prettiest fententious of it, of you and rofemary, that it would do you good to hear it. Rom. Commend me to thy lady- [Exit Romeo. Nurfe. Ay, a thousand times. Peter,Pet. Anon?

Nurfe. Take my fan, and go before.

(18) Rom. Ay, nurse, what of that? Both with an R.

[Exeunt.

Nurfe. Ab mocker! that's the dog's name. R. is for the no, I know it begins with no other letter,] I believe, I have rectified this odd stuff; but it is a little mortifying, that the fenfe, when 'tis found out, should hardly be worth the pains of retrieving it. The Nurse is reprefented as a prating filly creature; fhe fays, the will tell Romeo a good joak about his miftrefs, and afks him, whether Rosemary and Romeo do not begin both with a letter: he fays, Yes, an R. She, who, we must fuppofe, could not read, thought he had mock'd her, and fays, No, fure, I know better: our dog's name is R. Yours begins with another letter. This is natural enough, and very much in character for this infipid, prating creature. R put her in mind of that found which is made by dogs when they fnarl: and therefore, I prefume, she says, that is the dog's name. A quotation from Ben Jonfon's Alchemist will clear up this allufion.

He shall have a bell, that's Abel;

And, by it, ftanding one whofe name is D

In a rug gown; there's D and rug, that's Drag;
And right anenft him a dog fnarling,- -err;
There's Drugger, Abel Drugger..

For

Mr. Warburton. B. Jonfon again, in defcribing the found of the letters, in his English. Grammar, fays, R is the dog's letter, and birreth in the found. this reafon Perfius, the fatirift, call'd it litera canna:because the trembling vibration of the tongue in pronouncing it imitates the fnarling of a dog. Quòd tremulâ linguæ vibratione, canum, quum ringuntur, fonum imitari videatur, fays Rob. Stephens.

Irritata canis quòd RR quam plurima dicat.

Lucillius.

SCENE changes to Capulet's Houfe.

Enter Juliet.

Jul. TH
THE
HE clock ftruck nine, when I did fend the

nurse :

In half an hour fhe promis'd to return.

Perchance, the cannot meet him-That's not fo-
Oh, she is lame: love's heralds fhould be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide than the fun-beams,
Driving back fhadows over lowring hills.
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-fwift Cupid wings.
Now is the Sun upon the highmost hill

Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours-and yet fhe is not come;
Had the affections and warm youthful blood,
She'd be as fwift in motion as a ball;

My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me;

Enter Nurfe, with Peter.

O God, fhe comes.

Haft thou met with him? fend thy man away.

O honey nurse, what news?

[Exit Peter

Nurft. Peter, ftay at the gate.

Jul. Now, good sweet nurse,

O Lord, why look'ft thou fad?

Tho' news be fad, yet tell them merrily:

If good, thou fham'ft the mufick of fweet news,
By playing 't to me with fo four a face.

Nurfe. I am a weary, let me reft a while;

Fy, how my bones ake, what a jaunt have I had?
Jul. I would, thou hadst my bones, and I thy news!
Nay, come, I pray thee, fpeak-Good, good nurse,
speak.

Nurfe. Jefu! what hafte? can you not stay a while? Do you not fee, that I am out of breath? [breath Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou haft To fay to me that thou art out of breath?

4

Th'

Th' excufe, that thou doft make in this delay,
Is longer than the tale thou doft excufe.
Is thy news good or bad? answer to that;
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
Let me be fatisfied, is't good or bad?

Nurf. Well, you have made a fimple choice; you know not how to chuse a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his face be better than any man's, yet his legs excel all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, tho' they be not to be talk'd on, yet they are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy, but, I warrant him, as gentle as a lamb-Go thy ways, wench, ferve God -What, have you dined at home?

Jul. No, no-but all this did I know before: What fays he of our marriage? what of that?

Nurse. Lord, how my head akes! what a head have I } It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.

My back, o'th' other fide-O my back, my back:
Befhrew your heart, for fending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting up and down,
Jul. I'faith, I am forry that thou art fo ill.
Sweet, fweet, fweet nurfe, tell me what says my love?
Nurfe. Your love fays like an honeft gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,
And, I warrant, a virtuous-where is your mother?
Jul. Where is my mother?-why she is within
Where should she be? how oddly thou reply't!
Your love fays like an boneft gentleman:
Where is your mother?

Nurfe. O, God's lady dear,

Are you fo hot? marry come up, I trow,
Is this the poultice for my aking bones?
Hence-forward do your meffages yourself.

;

Jul. Here's fuch a coil; come, what fays Romeo? Nurfe. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day? Jul. I have.

Nurfe. Then hie you hence to friar Lawrence' cell, There ftays a husband to make you a wife.

Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in fcarlet straight at any news.

Hie you to church, I must another way,

To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb a bird's-neft foon, when it is dark.
I am the drudge and toil in your delight,
But you fhall bear the burden foon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner, hie you to the cell.

Fri.

Jul. Hie to high fortune;-koneft nurfe, farewel.

S

SCENE changes to the Monaftery.

Enter Friar Lawrence, and Romeo.

[Exeunt.

O fmile the heav'ns upon this holy act, That after-hours with forrow chide us not! Rom. Amen, amen! but come what forrow can, It cannot countervail th' exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her fight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, Which, as they meet, confume. The sweetest honey Is loathfome in its own deliciousness,

And in the taste confounds the appetite;

Therefore love mod'rately, long love doth fo:
Toe swift arrives as tardy as too flow.

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady. O, fo light a foot

Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint;
A lover may bestride the goffamour,
That idles in the wanton fummer air,
And yet not fall, fo light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghoftly confeffor.

Fri. Romeo fhall thank thee, daughter, for us both. ful. As much to him, else are his thanks too much. Rom. Ah! Juliet, if the measure of thy joy

thy

Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
VOL. VIII.

To