Rom. By the hour of nine. Jul. I will not fail; 't is twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back.

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it. Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remem'bring how I love thy company.

Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thec still forget,

Forgetting any other home but this.

Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone:

And yet no further than a wanton's bird;
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

Rom. I would I were thy bird.
Jul.

Sweet, so would I : Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night! parting is such sweet

sorrow,

That I shall say good night, till it be morrow.

[Exit. Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!

'Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! Hence will I to my ghostly friar's close" cell; His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit.

SCENE III.--Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter Friar LAURENCE, with a basket.

Fri. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night,

Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of

light;

And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path, and Titan's fiery wheels:
Now ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry,

for My neece, which is the reading of the first folio, and of the second and third quartos. In the first quarto we have Madam, which Malone adopts. But in the first quarto there is no interruption at all by the Nurse; whilst in the second quarto she has twice before used the word Madam; --and, consequently, the poet, in his amended copy, avoided the use by Romeo of a title which had just been used by the Nurse. We believe that the word Neece is altogether a mistake, that the word Nurse was written, as denoting a third interruption by her-and that Madam, the use of which was the form of the interruption, was omitted acci dentally, or was supposed to be implied by the word Nurse. As we have printed the passage the metre is correct; and it is to be observed that in the second quarto and the subsequent copies, at before "what o'clock," which was in the first quarto, is omitted, showing that a word of two syllables was wanted after my when at was rejected. Zachary Jackson, instead of niece, would read novice.

I must up-fill this osier cage of ours,
With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb;5
What is her burying grave, that is her womb :
And from her womb children of divers kind
We sucking on her natural bosom find:
Many for many virtues excellent,
None but for some, and yet all different."
O, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies

In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give;
Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair

father!

Rom. Good morrow,
Fri.
Benedicite!
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
Young son, it argues a distemper 'd head,
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
But were unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth
reign :

Therefore thy earliness doth me assure,
Thou art up-rous 'd by some distemp❜rature,
Or if not so, then here I hit it right-
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.

of the first copy of the change of a word or so, and leaving the MS. upon the page, without obliterating the original passage, it came to be inserted twice. The lines, as given to Romeo, stand thus in the quarto of 1609, and in the folio."The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light; And darkness fleckel'd, like a drunkard reels From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's wheels."

a Six lines, ending with this line, are not in (A).

b In (A), small.

e In (A), foes. In the other ancient editions, kings. Opposed foes has not the propriety of opposed kings-a thoroughly Shaksperean phrase.

C 2

Fri. God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. Fri. That's my good son: But where hast thou been then?

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. I have been feasting with mine enemy; Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded; both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies; " I bear no hatred, blessed man; for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe.

Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;

Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set

On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:

As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
And all combin'd, save what thou must combine
By holy marriage: When, and where, and how,
We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow,
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
That thou consent to marry us to-day.

Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is

here!

Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken ? young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;
And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence
then-

Women may fall, when there's no strength in

Mer. Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline,

Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
Mer. A challenge, on my life.
Ben. Romeo will answer it.

Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a letter.

Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared.

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot thorough the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's buttshaft; And is he a man to encounter Tybalt? Ben. Why, what is Tybalt?

able thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashionmongers, these pardon-mes, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bons, their bons!

Enter ROMEO.

Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring :O, flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!-Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen-wench ;marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy; Cleopatra, a gipsy; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots; Thisbé, a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose.-Signior Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.

Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

8

Mer. The slip, sir, the slip; Can you not conceive?

Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy.

Mer. That's as much as to say-such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. Rom. Meaning-to court'sy.

Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it.
Rom. A most courteous exposition.
Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
Rom. Pink for flower.
Mer. Right.

Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered b Mer. Sure wit. Follow me this jest now, till thou hast worn out thy pump; that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely singular.

Rom. O single-soled jest, solely singular for the singleness!

Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.

Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs ; or I'll cry a match.

Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase," I have done; for thou hast more of the wildgoose in one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: Was I with you there for the goose?

Rom. Thou wast never with me for anything, when thou wast not there for the goose. Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not.

Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce.

Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose ?

Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel,b that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad!

Rom. I stretch it out for that word-broad: which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? 10 now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.

Ben. Stop there, stop there.

Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in against the hair.

my tale

Mer. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face.

Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mer. God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.
Nurse. Is it good den ? 12

Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell you; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon. Nurse. Out upon you! what a man are you! Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made himself to mar.

Nurse. By my troth, it is well said ;—For himself to mar, quoth'a ?-Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo?

Rom. I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when you have found him, than he was

a The name of an apple.

b Kid leather-from chevreuill—a roebuck.

Rom. I will follow you.

Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, lady, lady, lady.

[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO. Nurse. Marry, farewell!-I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant 13 was this, that was so full of his ropery?

Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk; and will speak more in a minute, than he will stand to in a month.

Nurse. An 'a speak anything against me, I'll take him down an 'a were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates :And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?

Pet. I saw no man use you at his pleasure: if I had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side.

Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave!— Pray you, sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they say: 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. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee,—

And there she shall at friar Laurence' cell

Be shriv'd, and married. Here is for thy pains.

Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny.
Rom. Go to; I say, you

shall.

Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

SCENE V.-Capulet's Garden.

Enter JULIET.

Jul. The clock struck nine, when I did senu the nurse;

In half an hour she promis'd to return. Perchance, she cannot meet him:-that's not

SO.

wall:

Within this hour my man shall be with thee;
And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair:
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
Must be my convoy in the secret night.
Farewell!-Be trusty, and I'll quite thy pains.
Farewell!-Commend me to thy mistress.
Nurse. Now God in heaves bless thee!-
Hark you, sir.

Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse?
Nurse. Is your man secret? Did you neʼer

hear say

Two may keep counsel, putting one away ? Rom. I warrant thee; my man's as true as steel.

Nurse. Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady-Lord, lord!-when 't was a little prating thing,-O, there's a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the varsal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?

Rom. Ay, nurse; What of that? both with an R.

Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love," And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Now is the sun upon the highmost hill

Of this day's journey; and from nine till

twelve

Is three long hours,-yet she is not come. Had she affections, and warm youthful blood She'd be as swift in motion as a ball;

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

But old folks, many feign as they were dead; Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.

Enter NURSE and PETER.

O God, she comes!-O honey nurse, what news?

Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.
Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit PETER.
Jul. Now, good sweet nurse,-O lord! why
look'st thou sad?

Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face.

Nurse. I am aweary, give me leave a while;— Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had!

Jul. I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy

news:

Nay, come, I pray thee, speak ;-good, good nurse, speak.

Nurse. Jesu, What haste? can you not stay a while?

Do you not see that I am out of breath?

"In (4), Juliet's soliloquy ends here.