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

Nurfi. 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 ali 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, serve God What, have you dined at home?

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

Nurse. Lord, how my head akes ! what a head haye 1]
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
My back, o'th' other sidemy back, my

back :
Beshrew your heart, for sending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting up and down,

Jul. I'faith, I am sorry that thou art so ill.
Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me what says my love?

Nurfe. Your love says 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'&!
Your love Jays like an boneft gentleman :
Where is your mother ??.

Nurse. O, God's lady dear,
Are you so hot? marry come up, I grow,
Is this the poultice for my aking bones?
Hence-forward do your messages yourself.

Jul. Here's such a coil; come, what says Romeo?
Nurse: Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?
Jul. I have.

Nurse. Then hie you hence to friar Lawrence' cell,
There stays a husband to make you a wife.
Now comes the wanton blood

up
in your

cheeks, They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.

H

Hie you to church, I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb a bird's-neft soon, when it is dark.
I am the drudge and toil in your delight,
But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner, hie you to the cell.
Jul. Hie to high fortune; honeft nurse, farewel.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Monastery.

Enter Friar Lawrence, and Romeo.
F1 O smile the heav'ns upon this holy act,

That after-hours with sorrow 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 sight:
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 loathsome in its own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite;
Therefore love mod'rately, long love doth fo :
Too swift arrives as tardy as too flow.

Enter Juliet.
Here comes the lady. O, fo light a fost
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint;
A lover may beftride the goffamour,
That idles in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall, fo light is vanity,

Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.
Fri, Romeo Thall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too much.
Rom, Ah! Juliet, if the measure of thy joy

thy Vol. VIII,

TO

Be heap'd like mine, and that thy kill be more

To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air; and let rich mufick's tongue
Unfold th' imagin'd happiness, that both
Receive in either, by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars, that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to such excess,
I cannot sum up one half of my wealth. (work;

Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make short For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, Till holy church incorp'rate two in one. [Exeunt.

А ст

III.

SCENE, The STREET,

Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Servants.

BENVOLIO.

I ;

The day is hot, the Capulets abroad ;
And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl ;
For now these hot days is the mad blood ftirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and says, God send me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.

Ben. Am I like such a fellow ?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as soon mov'd to be moody, and as soon moody to be mov’d.

Ben. And what to?

Mer. Nay, an' there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou ! why

thou

thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou haft: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hafel eyes; what eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel ? thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head has been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling: thou hath quarrellid with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain alleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another for tying his new shoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling!

Ben. If I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. Mer. The fee-fimple? O simple!

Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others, Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets. Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them. Gentlemen, good-den, a word with one of you.

Mer. And but one word with one of us ? couple it with something, make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, Sir, if you will give me occasion.

Mer.Could you not take fome occasion without giving? Tyb. Mercurio, thou confort'st with Romeo

Mer. Confort! what doft thou make us minstrels! if thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but difcords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that, thall make you dance. Zounds! confort !

[Laying his hand on his sword. Ben. We talk here in the publick haunt of men: Either withdraw unto some private place, Or reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man's pleasure, 1.

Enton

C2

Enter Romeo. Tyb. Well, peace be with you, Sir! here comes my mana

Mer. But I'll be hang'd, Sir, if he wear your livery: Marry, go first to field, he'll be your follower; Your worship in that sense may call him man.

Tyb. Romeo, the love, I bear thee, can afford (19)
No better term than this, thou art a villain.

Rom, Tybalt, the reason that I have to love theç
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting : villain I am none,
Therefore, farewel ; I see, thou know'st me not,

Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me, therefore turn and draw,

Rom. I do proteft, I never injur'd thee,
But love thee better than thou canst devise ;
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love.
And so, good Capulet, (whose name Í tender
As dearly as my own) be satisfied.

Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
Ah! la Stoccata carries it away. (20)
Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me?
(19) Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford

No better term iban this,] This is only Mr. Pope's sophistication of the text.

All the copies in general, that I have seen, read,

Rome, tbe love I bear thee, &c. Why then this change? Is Mr. Pope really so great a poet, and does not know, that the love here stands for the little or no love, the bate in effect? Is it not frequent in poetry to express things by their confraries; to use promise inftead of threaten, and threaten instead of promise ? I'll quote an instance from Virgil, because Servixs's comment on it explains the practice of this figure.

& me, fors fi qua ruliffet,
Si patrios unquàm remeafsem vietor ad Argos,

Promis ultorem, & verbis odia aspera movi. Promifi.] Pro minatus sum, per contrarium dixit : quid minamur mala, promittimus bona. Sic autem Horatius contrà;

Atqui vultus erat multa & præclara minantis, i. e. promittentis.

(20) Alla Stucutbo.] This smells a little too rank of barbarifm for Mercutio, who is no ignorant fellow, but understood at least bis own country language, Stoccata is the Italian word for a certain pass in fencing.

9

Men