For whofe dear fake thou waft but lately dead:
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
But thou flew'ft Tybalt; there thou'rt happy too.
The law, that threatned death, became thy friend,
And turn'd it to exile; there art thou happy;
A pack of bleffings light upon thy back,
Happiness courts thee in her beft array,
But, like a mifbehav'd and fullen wench,
Thou pout'ft upon thy fortune and thy love.
Take heed, take heed, for fuch die miferable.
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
Afcend her chamber, hence and comfort her:
But, look, thou ftay not 'till the watch be fet;
For then thou canst not pafs to Mantua,
Where thou fhalt live, 'till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy,
Than thou went'it forth in lamentation.
Go before, nurfe. Commend me to 'thy lady,
And bid her haften all the house to bed,
Which heavy forrow makes them apt unto.
Romeo is coming.

Nurfe. O Lord, I could have ftaid here all night
long,

To hear good counfel. Oh, what Learning is!
My Lord, I'll tell my Lady you will come.

Hie

Rom. Do fo, and bid my Sweet prepare to chide.
Nurfe. Here, Sir, a ring the bid me give you, Sir:
you, make hafte, for it grows very late.
Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!
Fri. Go hence. Good night. And + here ftands
all your ftate;

3

Either begone before the watch be fet,

Or by the break of day, difguis'd from hence.

3 Go hence. Good night, &c.] These three lines are omitted in all the modern ed tions.

4-bere flands all your fate;] The whole of your fortune depends on this.

Sojourn

Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
And he fhall fignify from time to time
Every good hap to you, that chances here.
Give me thy hand, 'Tis late. Farewell. Good night.
Rom. But that a joy, paft joy, calls out on me,
It were a grief, fo brief to part with thee. [Exeunt.

SS CEN E VI.

Changes to Capulet's Houfe.

Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris.

Of

Cap. T

HINGS have fallen out, Sir, fo unlucki-
ly,

That we have had no time to move our daughter.
Look you, fhe lov'd her kinfinan Tybalt dearly,
And fo did I. -Well, we were born to die.
'Tis very late, fhe'll not come down to-night.
I promise you, but for your Company,
I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

Par. Thefe times of woe afford no time to wooe. Madam, good night. Commend me to your daughter. La. Cap. I will, and know her Mind early to

morrow;

To-night fhe's mew'd up to her heaviness.

Cap.Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
my child's love. I think, fhe will be rul'd

1 In

P

5 SCENE VI.] Some few ne. ceffary verfes are omitted in this Scene according to the oldeft ediPOPE. 6 Sir Paris, I'll make a DESPERATE tender

tions.

Of my child's love. This was but an indifferent compliVOL. VIII.

ment both to Sir Paris and his Daughter: As if there were small hopes of her ever proving good for any thing. For he could not call the tender, defperate on the little profpect there was of his performing his engagement, becaufe he is fure, he fays, that his daughter

G

In all refpects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here with my fon Paris' love,
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next,
But, foft; what day is this?

Par. Monday, my Lord.

Cap. Monday? Ha! ha! well, Wednesday is too foon,

On Thursday let it be. O' Thursday, tell her,
She fhall be married to this noble Earl.
-Will you be ready? Do you like this Hafte?
We'll keep no great a doa friend or two-c
For, hark you, Tybalt being flain fo late,
It may be thought we held him carelefly,
Being our kinfman, if we revel much;
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
And there's an end. But what fay you to Thurfday?
Par. My Lord, I would that Thursday were to-

morrow.

Cap. Well, get you gone-on Thursday be it then.

Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed. [To Lady Cap.
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
Farewel, my Lord-Light to my chamber, hoa!
'Fore me.It is fo late, that we may call
It early by and by. Good night.

[Exeunt.

Things have fall'n out, Sir, fo unluckily,

That we have had no time to move our daughter.

daughter will be ruled in all refpects by him. We fhould read, Sir Paris, I will make a SEPARATE tender.

i. e. I will venture Separately on my own head, to make you a tender of my daughter's love without confulting her. For Sir Paris was impatient, and the mother had faid,

WARBURTON. Defperate means only bold, advent'rous, as if he had faid in the vulgar phrafe, I will Speak a bold word, and venture to premife you my daughter.

SCENE

Juliet's Chamber looking to the Garden.

Enter Romeo and Juliet, above at a window; a ladder of ropes fet.

Jul. W

ILT thou be gone? it is not yet near day ¿ It was the Nightingale, and not the Lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly the fings on yon pomgranate tree : 'Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the Lark, the herald of the morn,
No Nightingale. Look, love, what envious ftreaks
Do lace the fevering clouds in yonder east,
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountains' tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it,
It is fome meteor that the Sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua;
Then stay a while, thou shalt not go so soon.

Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death,
I am content, if thou wilt have it fo.

I'll fay, yon grey is not the morning's eye,
"Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whofe notes do beat
The vaulty heav'ns fo high above our heads.
s I have more care to ftay, than will to go.
Come death, and welcome; Juliet wills it fo.

7- the pale reflex-] The appearance of a cloud opposed to the moon,

I have more care to ftay, than

G

will to go.] Would it be better thus,

I have more will to ftay, than care to go?

How

2

How is't, my Soul? let's talk, it is not day. ful. It is, it is; hie hence, be gone, away. It is the lark that fings fo out of tune, Straining harsh difcords, and unpleafing fharps. Some fay, the lark makes fweet divifion; This doth not fo: for fhe divideth us. Some fay, the lark and loathed toad chang❜d eyes; 9 O, now I would they had chang'd voices too! 'Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee up with huntfup to the day. O now be gone, more light and light it grows. Rom. More light and light?--More dark and dark our Woes.

9 O, now I WOULD they had chang'd voices too!] The tond having very fine eyes, and the larkery ugly ones, was the occafion of a common faying amongst the people, that the toad and lark had chang'd eyes. To this the fpeaker alludes. But fure the need not have wished that they had changed voices too. The lark appear'd to her untunable enough in all confcience: As appears by what the faid juft before,

It is the lark that fings fe out of tune, Straining harth difcords and unpleafing tharps. This directs us to the right reading. For how natural was it for her after this to add,

1

Some fay the lark and loathed toad change eyes.

norv I wor they have chang'd voices too.

i. e the lark fings fo harshly that I now perceive the toad and the have changed voices as well WARBURTON. This tradition of the toad and lark I have heard expreffed in a ruftick rhyme,

as eyes.

To heav'n I'd fly,
But the Toad beguil'd me of my

eye.

• Since arm from arm, &c.] Thefe two lines are omitted in the modern editions, and do not deferve to be replaced, but as they may fhew the danger of critical temerity. Dr. Warbur ton's change of I would to I wot was fpecious enough, yet it is evidently erroneous. The fenfe is this, The lark, they fay, has loft her eyes to the toad, and now I would the toad had her voice too, fince he uses it to the disturbance of lovers.

Enter