Enter Tybalt. Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. Rom. Alive? in Triumph? and Mercutio flain? Away to heav'n, refpective lenity, And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now! Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, That late thou gav'it me; for Mercutio's foul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company; Or thou or I, or both, muft go with him. Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didft confort him here, Shalt with him hence. Rom. This fhall determine that. [They fight, Tybalt falls. Ben. Romeo, away. Begone: Stand not amaz'd. The Prince will doom thee death, Away. 2 Ben. Why doft thou stay? [Exit Romeo: SCENE III. Enter Citizens. Cit. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? 2 Oh! I am fortune's fool.] I am always running in the way of evil fortune, like the fool in a VOL. VIII. F play. Thou art death's fool: in Meafure for Meafure. See Dr. Warburton's Note. Cit. Cit. Up, Sir. Go with me. I charge thee in the Prince's name, obey. Enter Prince, Montague, Capulet, their Wives, &c. Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? Ben. O noble Prince, I can discover all Th' unlucky manage of this fatal brawl. There lies the man, flain by young Romeo, That flew thy kinfman, brave Mercutio. La. Cap. Tybalt, my coufin! O my brother's child! Prince, O-coufin-hufband-O-the blood is fpill'd Of my dear kinfman. Prince, 3 as thou art true, For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague. O coufin, coufin. हे Prin. Benvolio, who began this fray? Ben. Tybalt, here flain, whom Romeo's hand did flay; Romeo, that fpoke him fair, bid him bethink Y 3 a: thou art true,] As thou art juft and upright. 4 How nice the quarrel-] How flight, how unimportant, how ઉ petty. So in the laft A&. Hold, full of charge Of dear import. Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, La. Cap. He is a kinfman to the Montagues, Prin. Romeo flew him, he flew Mercutio; His fault concludes but what the law should end, Prin. And for that offence, Immediately we do exile him hence: 6 "I have an intereft in your hearts' proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding; 5 Affection makes him falle. ] The charge of falfhood on Bentivolio, though produced at hazard, is very juft. The authour, who feems to intend the character of Bentivolio as good, meant perhaps to fhew, how the best minds, in a fate of faction and difcord, are detorted to criminal partiality. F 2 But 6 I have an intereft in your hearts' proceeding,] Sir Th. Hanmer faw that this line gave no fenfe, and therefore put, by a very eafy change, I have an intereft in your heat's proceeding, Which is undoubtedly better than the old reading which Dr. Warburton has followed; but the fenfe But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine, SCENE Changes to an Apartment in Capulet's House. Enter Juliet alone. Jul. G fuch a wag ALLOP apace, you fiery-footed steeds, ; ¿ fenfe yet feems to be weak, and perhaps a more licentious correction is neceflary. I read therefore, IV. goner, As Phaeton, would whip you to the west, I had no intereft in your heat's preceding. [Exeunt. This, fays the Prince, is no quarrel of mine, I had no intereft in your former difcord; I fuffer merely by your private animofity. 7 Spread thy clefe curtain, loveperforming Night, That runaways eyes may wink ;] What runaways are thefe, whole Leap eyes Juliet is wishing to have So Juliet would have Night's Leap to these arms, untalkt of and unfeen. 9 Thinks true love acted, fimple modesty. Come, night; come, Romeo! come, thou day in night, For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night, Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night! Give me my Romeo, and, when he shall die, I him, with regard to the fwiftnefs of his course, the Runaway. In the like manner our Poet fpeaks of the Night in the Merchant of Venice; For the clofe Night doth play the Runaway. WARB. I am not fatisfied with this emendation, yet have nothing better to propose. 8 Come, civil night,] Civil is grave, decently folemn. 9 unmann'd blood-] Blood F 3 yet unacquainted with man. The gairifh fun.] Milton had this fpeech in his thoughts when he wrote Il Penferofo. Civil night, Thou fuber-fuited matron. Shakespeare. Pay no worship to the gairish Milton. Aş |