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Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
With this night's revels; and expire the term
Of a despised life, clos’d in my breast,
By some vile forfeit of untimely death :
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail! a_On, lusty gentlemen.

Ben. Strike drum.

Exeunt.

SCENE V.-A Hall in Capulet's House.

Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. 1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher!

2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all b in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 't is a foul thing.

1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the court cupboard, look to the plate :-good thou, save me a piece of marchpane ;c and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell.–Antony! and Potpan!

2 Serv. Ay, boy ; ready.

1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked for, and sought for, in the great chamber.

2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too.-Cheerly, boys ; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all.

[They retire behind. Enter CAPULET, fc., with the Guests, und the Maskers.

Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies, that have their toes Unplagued with corns, will have a boutd with you : Ah ha, my mistresses ! which of you all Will now deny to dance ? she that makes dainty, she, I'll swear, hath corns; Am I come near ye now? Welcome, gentlemen ! e I have seen the day, That I have worn a visor; and could tell

* Thus (A). (C) and the folio, suit. b Thus (C). Folio omits all.

© Marchpane. A kind of sweet cake or biscuit, sometimes called almond-cake. Our maccaroons are diminutive marcbpanes.

d Thus (A). (C) and folio, walk about.
e This passage, to “ More light, ye knaves," is wanting in (A).

A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please ; 't is gone, 't is gone, 't is gone :
You are welcome, gentlemen Come, musicians, play.
A hall! a hall! give room, and foot it, girls.

[Music plays, and they dance.
More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up,
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.
Ah, sirrah, this unlook’d-for sport comes well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet ; a
For you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is 't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask?

2 Cap. By’r lady, thirty years.

1 Cap. What, man ! 't is not so much, it is not so much: ”T is since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five-and-twenty years; and then we mask'd.

2 Cap. 'Tis more, 't is more: his son is elder, sir; His son is thirty.

1 Cap. Will you tell me that?
His son was but a ward two years ago.

Rom. What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand
Of yonder knight?
Serv.

I know not, sir.
Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
Her beauty hangsb upon the cheek of night

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a Good cousin Capulet. The word cousin, in Shakspere, was applied to any collateral relation of whatever degree : thus we have in this play“ Tybalt, my cousin, Oh my brother's child.” Richard III. calls his nephew York, cousin, while the boy calls Richard, uncle. In the same play York's grandmother calls him cousin, while he replies grandam.

b Her beauty hangs. All the ancient editions which can be considered authorities—the four quartos and the first folio-read It seems she hangs. The reading of her beauty is from the second folio. Why then, it may be asked, do we depart from our usual principle, and reject an undoubted ancient reading? Because the reading which we give has become familiar, has passed into common use wherever our language is spoken,-is quoted in books as frequently as any of the other passages of Shakspere which constantly present themselves as examples of his exquisite power of description. Here, it appears to us, is a higher law to be observed than that of adherence to the ancient copies. It is the same with the celebrated passage,

" Or dedicate his beauty to the sun." All the ancient copies read the same. We believe this to be a misprint; but, even

VOL. VII.

X

As& a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make blessed b my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague:-
Fetch me my rapier, boy :-What? dares the slave
Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity ?,
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
1 Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? wherefore storm you

so ?
Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe;
A villain, that is hither come in spite,
To scorn at our solemnity this night.

1 Cap. Young Romeo is 't?
Tyb.

'T is he, that villain Romeo. 1 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone, He bears him like a portly gentleman; And, to say truth, Verona brags of him, To be a virtuous and well-govern’d youth: I would not for the wealth of all the town, Here in my house, do him disparagement : Therefore be patient, take no note of him, It is my will; the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest;
I'll not endure him.
1 Cap.

He shall be endur'd.
What, goodman boy !—I say, he shall;—Go to ;-
Am I the master here, or you? go to.

if that could not be alleged, we should feel ourselves justified in retaining the sun. Such instances, of course, present but very rare exceptions to a general rule. a (A), Like.

b So (C) and folio. (A), happy ·

You 'll not endure him!—God shall mend my soul-
You 'll make a mutiny among my guests!
You will set cock-a-hoop!a you 'll be the man !

Tyb. Why, uncle, 't is a shame.
1 Cap.

Go to, go to,
You are a saucy boy -Is 't so indeed ?
This trick may chance to scath you ;—I know what.
You must contrary c me!-marry, 't is time-
Well said, my hearts !—You are a princox;d go :-
Be quiet, or—More light, more light.-For shame!-
I'll make you quiet; What!-Cheerly, my hearts.

Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.

[Exit. Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand [TO JULIET.

This holy shrine, the gentle sine is this — My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this ;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

Rom. O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

Rom. Then move not, while my prayers' effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine f my sin is purg'd. [Kissing her.

Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

a Set cock-a-hoop. The origin of this phrase, which appears always to be used in the sense of hasty and violent excess, is very doubtful. The received opinion is, that on some festive occasions the cock, or spigot, was taken out of the barrel and laid on the hoop, and that the uninterrupted flow of the ale naturally led to intemperance.

b To scathto injure. c Contrary. Sir Philip Sidney, and many other old writers, use this as a verb. d Princox-coxcomb. e So all the old copies. Warburton changed sin to fine.

(A), yours.

Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd!
Give me my sin again.
Jul.

You kiss by the book.
Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
Rom. What is her mother?
Nurse.

Marry, bachelor,
Her mother is the lady of the house,
And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous:
I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal ;
I tell you,—he, that can lay hold of her,
Shall have the chinks.
Rom.

Is she a Capulet?
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.

Ben. Away, begone; the sport is at the best.
Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.

1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
We have a trilling foolish banquet towards. a
Is it e’en so ? Why, then I thank you all;
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night:-
More torches here !—Come on, then let's to bed.
Ah, sirrah, [To 2 Cap.] by my fay, it waxes late ;
I 'll to my rest. [Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse.

Jul. Come hither, nurse : What is yon gentleman?
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio.
Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door?
Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.
Jul. What 's he, that follows there, that would not dance ?
Nurse. I know not.

Jul. Go, ask his name :-if he be married,
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
The only son of your great enemy.

Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate !
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.

Nurse. What 's this ? What's this?

* Towards—ready; at hand.

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