Some say the lark makes sweet division; a 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, 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 : ? 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. 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: Dead- 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, Jul. Now, by St. Peter's church, and Peter too, 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? 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. 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? Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. 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! 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, 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, Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad. Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, b Alone, in company, still my care hath been с Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train❜d, e 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, |