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SCENE III.

Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant.

Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I think,
For men fo old as we to keep the peace.

Par. Of honourable reck'ning are you both,
And, pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long.
But now, my Lord, what say you to my Suit?

Cap. But saying o'er what I have faid before;
My child is yet a stranger in the world,
She hath not seen the Change of fourteen years;
Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made.
Cap. And too foon marr'd are those so early made.
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
* She is the hopeful lady of my earth,
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part;
If the agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent, and fair according voice :
This night, I hold an old-accustom'd Feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Such as I love; and you, among the store,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house, look to behold this night
* Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven's light.
Such
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel,
When well-apparel'd April on the heel
Of limping Winter treads, ev'n such delight
Among fresh female buds fhall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all fee,
And like her most, whose merit most shall be :
+ Which on more view of many, mine, being one,
May stand in number, tho' in reck'ning none.
Come, go with me. Go, firrah, trudge about,
Through fair Verona; find those persons out,
Whose names are written there; and to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

But why nonsense? Is any
thing more commonly faid, than
that beauties eclipse the fun?
Has not Pope the thought and
the word?

Sol through white curtains foot
a tim'rous ray,

And ope'd those eyes that must
eclipse the day.

[Exeunt Capulet and Paris.

as much in an assembly of beautes, as young men feel in the month of April, is furely to waste sound upon a very poor sentiment. I read,

Such comfort as do lufty yeomen feel.

You shall feel from the fight and conversation of thoseladies, such hopes of happiness and such pleasure, as the farmer receives from the spring, when the plenty of the year begins, and the profpect of the harvest fills him with delight.

4 Which on more view of many, mine, being one,

May stand in number, tho in reck'ning none] The first of these lines I do not understand. The old folio gives no help; the passage is there, Which one more view. I can offer nothing better than this:

!

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Serv. Find them out, whose names are written here? -It is written, that the Shoemaker should meddle with his Yard, and the Tailor with his Laft, the Fisher with his Pencil, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am sent to find those Persons, whose names are here writ; and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the Learned. In good time,

Enter Benvolio and Romeo.

Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burn

ing,

One pain is lessen'd by another's Anguish,

Turn giddy, and be help'd by backward turning,

One defperate grief cure with another's Languish

Take thou some new infection to the eye,

And the rank poison of the old will die.

Rom. Your plantan leaf is excellent for that.

Ben. For what, I pray thee?

Rom. For your broken shin.

Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?

Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man

is;

Shut up in prison, kept without my food,

Whipt and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good fellow.

[To the Servant.

Serv. God gi' good e'en. I pray, Sir, can you

read?

Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.

But, I pray,

Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book.

Can you read any thing you fee?

Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the language.

Serv. Ye say honestly. Rest you merry.

Rom. Stay, fellow, I can read.

VOL. VIII,

C

[He

SIgnior Martino, and his wife and daughters; Count

Anfelm, and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely neices; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine: mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters ; my fair neice Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.

- A fair afsembly; whither should they come? Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither? to supper?

Serv. To our house.

Rom. Whose house ?

Serv. My master's.

Rom. Indeed, I should have afk'd you that before. Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the House of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Reft you merry.

Ben. At this fame ancient Feast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'it;
With all th' admired beauties of Verona.
Go thither, and, with unattainted eye,
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy Swan a Crow.

Should they come?

[Exit.

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$ A fair affembly, whither from the Servant's answer, than Romeo's question; and must undoubtedly be placed to him.

Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither? to fupper?

Serv. To our buse.] Romeo had read over the hit of invited guests; but how should he know they were invited to fupper? This comes much more aptly

WARBURTON.

Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such fashoods, then turn tears to fires ! And these, who, often drown'd, could never die, Transparent hereticks, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love! th' all-feeing Sun Ne'er faw her match, since first the world begun.

Ben. Tut! tut! you saw her fair, none elfe being

by,

Herself pois'd with herself, in either eye;
But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd
Your lady-love against some other maid,

That I will shew you, shining at this feaft,

And she will shew scant well, that now shews best.

Rom. I'll go along, no fuch fight to be shewn;

But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.

[Exeunt.

La. Cap.

SCENE IV.

Change to Capulet's House.

Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse.

N

URSE, where's my daughter ? call

her forth to me. Nurse. Now (by my maiden-head, at twelve Years old)

I bade her come; what, lamb! what, lady-bird!
God forbid!-where's this girl? what, Juliet ?

let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid,] But the comparison was not betwixt the love that Romeo's mistress paid him, and the person of any other young woman; but betwixt Ro

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meo's mistress herself, and fome other that should be match'd against her. The poet therefore must certainly have wrote;

Your lady-love against fome other maid.

WARBURTON.

Enter