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is it not like, that I
So early waking, what with loathfom fmells,
Changes to Capulet's Hall.
Enter Lady Capulet and Nurfe.
La. Cap. H
OLD, take these keys and fetch more
Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.
Cap. Come, ftir, ftir, ftir, the fecond cock hatlı
The curfeu bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:
Nurfe. Go, go, you cot-quean, go.
Cap. No, not a whit: what, I have watch'd ere
All night for a lefs caufe, and ne'er been fick.
But I will watch you, from fuch watching, now.
Enter three or four with fpits, and logs, and baskets.
Serv. Things for the cook, Sir, but I know not what.
Cap. Make hafte, make hafte. Sirrah, fetch drier logs,
Call Peter, he will fhew thee where they are.
Serv. I have a head, Sir, that will find out logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter.
Cap. 'Mafs, and well faid, a merry whorefon, ha! Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 'tis day. The County will be here with mufick ftraight,.
For fo, he said, he would. I hear him near.
Go, waken Juliet, go and trim her up,
[Exeunt Capulet and Nurfe, feverally.
Changes to Juliet's Chamber, Juliet on a bed.
Nurse. M Istress, what, mistress? Juliet-Fast, I
Why, lamb-why, Lady-Fy, you slug-a-bed-
What, not a word!-You take your pennyworths
Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,
Enter Lady Capulet.
La. Cap. What noife is here?
La. Cap. Oh me, oh me, my child, my only life!
Cap. For fhame, bring Juliet forth. Her Lord is
Nurfe. She's dead, deceas'd, the's dead. Alack the day!
Cap. Ha! let me fee her. Out, alas! fhe's cold; Her blood is fettled, and her joints are stiff; Life and thefe lips have long been separated; Death lies on her, like an untimely froft Upon the sweetest flow'r of all the field. Accurfed time! unfortunate old man!
Nurfe. O lamentable day!
La. Cap. O woeful Time!
Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,
Ties up my Tongue, and will not let me speak.
Enter Friar Lawrence, and Paris with Muficians.
Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to church? Cap. Ready to go, but never to return. O fon, the night before thy wedding-day Hath Death lain with thy wife. See, there the lies, Flow'r as fhe was, deflowered now by him, Death is my fon-in-law.
Par. Have I thought long to fee this morning's face, And doth it give me fuch a fight as this!
La. Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! Moft miferable hour, that Time e'er faw
In lafting labour of his pilgrimage!
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
Nurfe. O woe! oh woful, woful, woful, day!
Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, fpighted, flain,
O Child! O Child! My Soul, and not my Child!
Fri. Peace, ho, for Shame! Confufion's Cure lives not
In these Confufions: Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair Maid; now Heav'n hath all;
Your part in her
• Oroe! ob woful, &c.] This Speech of exclamations is not in the edition above cited. Several other parts, unneceffary or tauto logy, are not to be found in the faid edition; which occafions the variation in this from the common books. POPE.
2 In former editions,
In thefe confufious:] This fpeech, though it contains good Chriftian doctrine, though it is perfectly in character for the Friar,
Mr. Pope has curtail'd to little or nothing, because it has not the fanction of the first old copy. But there was another reafon : Certain corruptions started, which fhould have required the indulging his private fenfe to make them in telligible, and this was an unreafonable labour. As I have reformed the paffage above quoted, I dare warrant, I have restored our poet's text; and a fine fenfible reproof it contains against immoderate grief. THEOE.