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THE original relater of the story on which this play is formed, was Luigi da Porto, a gentlemen of Vicenza, who died in 1529. His novel did not appear till some years after his death; being first printed at Venise in 1535, under the title of La Giulietta. A second edition was published in 1539, and it was again reprinted at the same place in 1553 (without the author's name), with the following title: Historia nuoramente ritrovata di due nobili Amanti, con la lero pietosa morte; intervenuta gia nella cita di Verona, nel tempo del Signor Bartholomeo della Scala. Nuovamente stampata.

In 1554 Bandello published, at Lucca, a novel on the same subject (Tom. II. Nov. ix.); and shortly afterwards Boisteau exhibited one in French, founded on the Italian narratives, but varying from them in many particulars. From Boisteau's novel the same story was, in 1552, formed into an English poem, with considerable alterations and large additions, by Mr. Arthur Brooke. This piece was printed by Richard Tottle with the following title, written probably, according to the fashion of that time, by the bookseller: The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, containing a rare Example of true Constancie: with the subtill Counsels, and Practices of an old Fryer, and their ill event. It was again published by the same bookseller in 1582.

Painter, in the second volume of his Palace of Pleasure, 1567, published a prose ranslation from the French of Boisteau, which be entitled Rhomeo and Julietta. Shakspeare had probably read Painter's novel, having taken one circumstance from it or some other prose

translation of Boisteau; but his play was undoubtedly formed on the poem of Arthur Brooke. This is proved decisively by the following circumstance: 1. In the poem the prince of Verona is called Escalus; so also in the play.In Painter's translation from Boisteau he is named Signor Escala; and sometimes Lord Bartholomew of Escala. 2. In Painter's novel the family of Romeo are called the Montesches; in the poem and in the play, the Montagues. 3. The messenger emoloyed by friar Lawrence to carry a letter to Romeo to inform him when Juliet would awake from her trance, is in Painter's translation called Anselme in the poem, and in the play, friar John is employed in this business. 4. The circumstance of Capulet's writing down the names of the guests whom he invites to supper, is found in the poem and in the play, but is not mentioned by Painter, nor is it found in the original Italian novel. 5. The residence of the Capulets, in the original, and in Painter, is called Villa franca; in the poem and in the play, Freetown. 6. Several passages of Romeo and Juliet appear to have been formed on hints furnished by the poem, of which no traces are found either in Painter's novel, or in Boisteau, or the original; and several expressions are borrowed from thence, which will be found in their proper places.

As what has been now stated has been controverted, (for what may not be controverted?) I should enter more largely into the subject, but various passages of the poem furnish such a decisive proof of the play's having been constructed upon it, as not to leave, in my apprehension,

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ROMEO AND JULIET.

This play is one of the most pleasing of our author's performances. The scenes are busy and various, the incints numerous and important, the catastrophe irresistibly affecting, and the process of the action carried on with ch probability, at least with such congruity to popular opinions, as tragedy requires.

Here is one of the few attempts of Shakspeare to exhibit the conversation of gentlemen, to represent the airy rightliness of juvenile elegance. Mr. Dryden mentions a tradition, which might easily reach his time, of a declation made by Shakspeare, that he was obliged to kill Mercutio in the third act, lest he should have been killed him. Yet he thinks him no such formidable person, but that he might have lived through the play, and died kis bed, without danger to the poet. Dryden well knew, had he been in quest of truth, in a pointed sentence, at more regard is commonly had to the words than the thought, and that it is very seldom to be rigorously understood. ercutio's wit, gaiety and courage, will always procure him friends that wish him a longer life; but his death is not ecipitated, he has lived out the time allotted him in the construction of the play; nor do I doubt the ability of Shakspeare have continued his existence, though some of his sallies are perhaps out of the reach of Dryden; whose genius was not ry fertile of merriment, nor ductile to humour; but acute, argumentative, comprehensive, and sublime. The Nurse is one of the characters in which the author delighted: he has, with great subtility of distinction, awn her, at once, loquacious and secret, obsequious and insolent, trusty and dishonest.

His comic scenes are happily wrought, but his pathetic strains are always polluted with some unexpected deprations. His persons, however distressed, have a conceit left them in their misery, a miserable conceit.

Johnson.

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BALT, Nephew to lady Capulet.

(IAR LAURENCE, a Franciscan.

(AR JOHN, of the same order.

ALTHAZAR, Servant to Romeo.
MPSON,

LEGORY, Servants to Capulet.

ABRAM, Servant to Montague.
An Apothecary.

Three Musicians.
Chorus.
Boy.

Page to Paris.
PETER.

An Officer.

LADY MONTAGUE, Wife to Montague.
LADY CAPULET, Wife to Capulet.
JULIET, Daughter to Capulet.

Nurse to Juliet.

Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, relations to both houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants.

SCENE,-During the greater Part of the Play, in Verona; once, in the Fifth Act, at Mantua.

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SCENE I-A public Place.

Inter SAMPSON and GREGORY, armed with swords
and bucklers.

Sam. Gregory, o'my word, we'll not carry coals.
Gre. No, for then we should be colliers.
Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw."
Gre. Ay, while- you live, draw your neck out of
be collar.

Sam. I strike quickly, being moved.
Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me.
Gre. To move, is-to stir; and to be valiant, is
-to stand to it: therefore, if thou art mov'd, thou
run'st away.

Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.

Gre. That shews thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall.

Sam. True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall:-there

fore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall.

Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and us their men.

Sam. 'Tis all one, I will shew myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids; I will cut off their heads. Gre. The heads of the maids?

Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt.

Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it. Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand: and, 'tis known, I am a pretty piece of flesh.

Gre. "Tis well, thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been Poor John. Draw thy tool; here comes two of the house of the Montagues.

Enter ABRAM and BALTHASAR.

Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will back thee.

Gre. How? turn thy back, and run?

Sam. Fear me not.

Gre. No, marry; I fear thee!

(begin

Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let them Gre. I will frown, as I pass by; and let them take it as they list.

Sam. Nay, as they dare, I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir.

Abr. Do
you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say-ay?
Gre. No.

Sam. No. sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir.

Gre. Do you quarrel, sir?

Abr. Quarrel, sir? no, sir.

Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you; I serve as good a man as you.

Abr. No better.

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Turn thee, Beuvolio, look upon thy death.

Ben. I do but keep the peace; put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.
Tyb. What, drawn and talk of peace? I hate
the word,

As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
Have at thee, coward.

(They fight.) Enter several partizans of both Houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs.

1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partizans! strike! beat them down! {tagues! Down with the Capulets! Down with the MonEnter CAPULET in his gown; and Lady CAPULET. Cap. What noise is this?-Give me my long [a sword? La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch!-Why call you for Cap. My sword, I say!-Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

sword, ho!

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beasts.

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mis-temper'd weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.-
Those civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee old Capulet, and Montague,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets;
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partizans, in hands as old,
Canker'd with peace, to part your cauker'd hate :
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time, all the rest depart away:
You, Capulet, shall go along with me:
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, ou pain of death, all men depart.

[Exeunt Prince, and Attendants; Capulet,
Lady Capulet, Tybalt, Citizens, and
Servants.

Mon.Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began? Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: I drew to part them; in the instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd; Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, He swung about his head, and cut the winds, Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn: While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the prince came, who parted either part.

La. Mon. O, where is Romeo? - saw you him to-day?

Right glad I am, he was not at this fray.

Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sa
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
Where.-underneath the grove of sycamore,
That westward rooteth from the city's side,-
So early walking did I see your son:
Towards bin I made; but he was 'ware of me,
And stole into the covert of the wood:
I, measuring his affections by my own,-
That most are busied when they are most alone
Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his.
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs
But all so soon as the all cheering sun
Should in the furthest east begin to draw
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
Away from light steals home my heavy son,
And private in his chamber peus himself;
Shuts up his windows, locks fair day-light out,
And makes himself an artificial night;
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause
Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him.
Ben. Have you impórtun'd him by any means
Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
Is to himself-I will not say, how true-
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure as know.

Enter ROMEO, at a distance.

Ben. See where he comes: So please you, stej aside;

I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To hear true shrift.-Come, madam, let's away,
[Exeunt Montague and Lady

Ben. Good morrow, cousin.
Rom.

Ben. But new struck nine.
Rom.

Is the day so young"

Ah me! sad hours seem laa

Was that my father that went hence so fast? Ben. It was:-What sadness lengthens Romes s [them short.

hours?

Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes
Ben. In love?
Rom. Out-
Ben. Of love?

Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love.

Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,. Should be so tyrannous and rough in proot!

Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muted sti. Should without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine? -O me! What fray was

bere?

Yet tell me not, for I have heard it a".
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.-
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing, of nothing first create!

heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!

Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!-
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?

Ben.

No, coz, I rather weep.

Rom. Good heart, at what

Ben.

At thy good heart's oppression

Rom. Why, such is love's transgression.-
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast;
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
With more of thine: this love, that thou hast
shewn,

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke, rais'd with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire, sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea, nourish'd with lovers' tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choaking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.

(Going.)

Ben. Soft, I will go along; And if you leave me so, you do me wrong. Rom. Tat, I have lost myself; I am not here; This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love. Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee? Ben.

But sadly tell me, who.

Groan? why, no;

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill!— la sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd. Rom. A right good marksman-And she's fair I love.

Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Rom. Well in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow she lives unharmed. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: 0. she is rich in beauty; only poor, That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live chaste?

[waste;

Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge
For beauty, starv'd with her severity,
Cats beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair,
To merit bliss by making me despair:

She hath forsworn to love; and, in that vow,
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her.
Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think.
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
Eramine other beauties."

Rom. "Tis the way To call her's, exquisite, in question more: These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows, Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair; He, that is struck blind, cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: Shew me a mistress, that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve, but as a note, Where I may read, who pass'd that passing fair? Farewell; thon canst not teach me to forget. Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. [Exeunt.

SCENE II-A Street.

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 so old as we to keep the peace.

Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both;
And pity 'tis, you lived at odds so long.
Bat now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

Cap. But saying o'er what I have said 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 soon marr'd are those so early made.

The earth bath 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;
An she 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 light.
Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel,
When well-apparell'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,

And like her most, whose merit most shall be:
Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one,
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Come, go with me :-Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out,
Whose names are written there, (Gives a paper.)
and to them say,

My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Exeunt Capulet and Paris,

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 last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his net; 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 burning,

One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
One desperate grief cures with another's lan-
guish :

Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.
Rom. Your plaintain 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 madman is: Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good

fellow.

(read?

(Reads.)

Serv. God gi' good-e'en.-I pray, sir, can you Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: But I pray, can you read any thing you see? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language. Serv. Ye say honestly; Rest you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow: I can read. Signor Martino, and his wife, and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signor Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; Mine unele Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena.

A fair assembly(Gives back the note.) Whither should they come?

Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither?

Serv. To supper; to our house. Rom. Whose house?

Serv. My master's.

Rom. Indeed, I should have asked 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. Rest you merry.

Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st; With all the admired beauties of Verona :

[Exit.

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