Some say the lark makes sweet division; a
This doth not so, for she divideth us:
Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
O, now I would they had chang'd voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day."
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.

Rom. More light and light?-more dark and dark our

woes.

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. Madam!

Jul. Nurse?

Nurse. Your lady mother is coming to your chamber: The day is broke; be wary, look about.

[Exit Nurse.

Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out.

Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.

[ROMEO descends.

Jul. Art thou gone so? love! lord! ay-husband, friend!

I must hear from thee every day in the hour,

For in a minute there are many days:

O! by this count I shall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity

That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

Jul. O, thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come.

с

Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining soul;" Methinks, I see thee, now thou art so low, e As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu! [Exit ROM.

you:

a Sweet division. A division in music is a number of quick notes sung to one syllable; a kind of warbling. This continued to prevail in vocal music till rather recently. Handel, governed by custom rather than by his own better taste, introduces divisions in many of his airs and choruses. Steevens, in his note on this word, mistakes the meaning entirely.

b (4) reads "my love, my lord, my friend," which has supplied the modern © (A), below.

text.

с

Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle :
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.

?

La. Cap. [Within.] Ho, daughter! are you up Jul. Who is 't that calls? is it my lady mother? Is she not down so late, or up so early?

What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?

Enter LADY CAPULET.

La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet ?

Jul.

Madam, I am not well.

La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live: Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love; But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.

La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend Which you weep for.

I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.

La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death, As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.

Jul. What villain, madam?

That same villain, Romeo.

La. Cap.
Jul. Villain and he be many miles asunder.
God pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart.
La. Cap. That is, because the traitor lives.
Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands.
'Would, none but I might venge my cousin's death!

La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not: Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,

Shall give him such an unaccustom❜d dram,a

a We have again a made-up text in modern editions. (A) (the other lines being different) has,

"That shall bestow on him so sure a draught."

That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:
And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied.
Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him.

Dead-
Is my poor heart, so for a kinsman vex'd:
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it;
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors.
To hear him nam'd-and cannot come to him,—
To wreak the love I bore my cousin

Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him!

La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I 'll find such a man. But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

a

Jul. And joy comes well in such a needy a time:

What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,

Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,

That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for.

Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is that?

La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn, The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,

The county Paris, at St. Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee a joyful bride.

Jul. Now, by St. Peter's church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride!
I wonder at this haste; that I must wed
Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.
I pray you tell my lord and father, madam,
I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
Rather than Paris:-These are news indeed!

La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him so yourself, And see how he will take it at your hands.

Enter CAPULET and Nurse.

b

Cap. When the sun sets, the earth doth drizzle dew;

b (D) gives us air, which the modern editors have followed.

How now? a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
Evermore showering? In one little body
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind:
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
Who,-raging with thy tears, and they with them,—
Without a sudden calm, will overset

Thy tempest-tossed body.-How now, wife?

Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.

I would the fool were married to her grave!

Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife.
How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?
Is she not proud? doth she not count her bless'd,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought

So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

Jul. Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have: Proud can I never be of what I hate ;

But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.

a

Cap. How now! how now, chop-logic! What is this?
Proud, and, I thank you, and, I thank you not;-b
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to St. Peter's church,

Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!
You tallow-face!

La. Cap.

Fie, fie! what, are you mad?

Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees,

Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch!
I tell thee what,-get thee to church o' Thursday,
Or never after look me in the face:

a Meant love-meant as love.

b (C) has this line, which is not in the folio:

"And yet not proud;-Mistress, minion, you."

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;

My fingers itch.—Wife, we scarce thought us bless'd,
That God had lent a us but this only child;
But now I see this one is one too much,
And that we have a curse in having her :
Out on her, hilding!

Nurse.

God in heaven bless her!—

You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.

Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,
For here we need it not.

Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad.

Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play,

b

Alone, in company, still my care hath been
To have her match'd; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,

с

Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train❜d, e
Stuff'd (as they say) with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's heart would wish a man,-
And then to have a wretched puling fool,
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
To answer" I 'll not wed,—I cannot love,
I am too young, I pray you, pardon me ;”—
But, an you will not wed, I 'll pardon you:
Graze where
shall not house with me:
you will, you
Look to 't, think on 't, I do not use to jest.

Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise :

b Thus (C) and folio. (4), which has been partially followed, has—

"God's blessed mother! Wife, it mads me.

Day, night, early, late, at home, abroad,

Alone, in company, waking or sleeping,
Still my care hath been to see her match'd."