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And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his-shroud?
And, in this rage, with fome great kinsman's bone,
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?
O, look! methinks, I fee my cousin's ghost
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
Upon a rapier's point:-Stay, Tybalt, stay!
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.

[She throws herself on the bed.

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La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more fpices, Nurfe.

Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.

Enter Capulet.

Cap. Come, ftir, ftir, ftir! the fecond cock hath crow'd,

'The curfeu bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica; Spare not for cost.

Nurfe. Go, you cot-quean, go.

Get you to bed; 'faith, you'll be fick to-morrow,
For this night's watching.

Cap. No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere

now

All night for a lefs caufe, and ne'er been fick.

La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your

time,

But I will watch you, from fuch watching, now. [Exeunt lady Capulet and Nurfe.

The curfeu bell-] I know not that the morning-bell is called the curfeu in any other place. JOHNSON,

VOL. X.

H

Cap

Cap. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood!-Now, fellow, What's there?

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 fhalt be logger-head.-Good faith, 'tis day. The County will be here with mufick ftraight,

[Play mufick. For fo, he faid, he would. I hear him near.Nurfe!-wife!-what, ho! what, Nurse, I say!

Enter Nurfe.

Go, waken Juliet; go, and trim her up,
I'll go and chat with Paris. Hie, make hafte,
Make hafte! the bride-groom he is come already.
Make hafte, I fay!

[Exeunt Capulet and Nurfe, feverally.

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Nurfe. Miftrefs!-what, mistress!—Juliet !—Faft,

I warrant her :

Why, lamb!-why, lady!-Fie, you flug-a-bed!

Why, love, I fay!

Madam!

why, bride!

-Sweet-heart!

What, not a word!You take your pennyworths

now;

Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,

The

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The County Paris hath fet up his reft,

That you fhall reft but little.-God forgive me-
Marry, and amen!-How found is the afleep!
I muft needs wake her :-Madam! madam! madam!
Ay, let the County take you in your bed;
He'll fright you up, i'faith. Will it not be?
What dreft! and in your cloaths!-and down again!
I must needs wake you: Lady! lady! lady!
Alas! alas-help! help! my lady's dead!
O, well-a-day, that ever I was born!
Some aqua-vitæ, ho! My lord! my lady!

Enter lady Capulet.

La. Cap. What noise is here?
Nurfe. O lamentable day!
La. Cap. What's the matter?

Nurfe. Look, look!oh heavy day!

La. Cap. Oh me, oh me! my child, my only life! Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! Help, help!-call help.

1

Enter Capulet.

Cap. For fhame, bring Juliet forth:-her lord is

come.

Nurfe. She's dead, deceas'd, fhe's dead!--Alack the day!

fet up his reft,] This expreffion, which is frequently employed by the old dramatick writers, is taken from the manner of firing the harquebufs. This was fo heavy a gun, that the foldiers were obliged to carry a fupporter called a reft, which they fixed in the ground before they levelled to take aim. Decker ufes it in his comedy of Old Fortunatus, 1600:

fet your heart at reft, for I have fet up my reft, "that unless you can run fwifter than a hart, home 66 you go not."

The fame expreffion occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher's Elder Brother,

My rest is up,

66

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STEEVENS.

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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 frost Upon the fweeteft flower of all the field. Accurfed time! unfortunate old man! Nurfe. O lamentable day!

La. Cap. O woful 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 Laurence and Paris, with Musicians. Fri. Come, is the bride ready to go to church? Cap. Ready to go, but never to return. 2 O fon, the night before thy wedding-day Hath death lain with thy wife.-See, there fhe lies, Flower as she was, deflowered now by him. 3 Death is my fon-in-law, death is my heir: My daughter he hath wedded! I will die, And leave him all; life leaving, all is death's. Par. Have I thought long to fee this morning's face 4, 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,

20fon, the night before thy wedding-day

Hath death lain with thy wife.-] Euripides has sported with this thought in the fame manner. Iphig. in Aul. v. 460. σε Τήνι αυταλαιναν παρθένον (τί παρθένον) ?

• Αδης νιν, ως ἔοικε νυμφευτεί ταχα.” RAWLINSON. 3 Death is my fon-in-law, &c.] The remaining part of the fpeech I have reitored from the quarto, 1609. STEEVENS. The quarto, 1597, continues the fpeech of Paris thus: And doth it now prefent fuch prodigies?

Accurft, unhappy, miferable man,
Forlorn, forfaken, deßitute I am;
Born to the world to be a flave in it:

Diftreft, remedilefs, unfortunate.

Oh heavens! Oh nature! wherefore did you make me
To live fo vile, fo wretched as I fhall?

STEEVENS.

In lafting labour of his pilgrimage!

But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to rejoice and folace in,

And cruel death hath catch'd it from my fight.
Nurfe. 50 woe! oh woful, woful, woful day!
Most lamentable day! moft woful day!
That ever, ever, I did yet behold.

Oh day! oh day! oh day! oh hateful day!
Never was feen fo black a day as this.

Oh woful day, oh woful day!

Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, fpighted, flain! Most deteftable Death, by thee beguil'd,

By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown!

O love! O life!--not life, but love in death!
Cap. Defpis'd, diftreffed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
Uncomfortable time! why cam'ft thou now
To murder, murder our folemnity?-

O child! O child! my foul, and not my child!
Dead art thou! alack! my child is dead;
And, with my child, my joys are buried.
Peace, ho, for fhame!

Fri.

lives not

Confufion's cure

In thefe confufions. Heaven and yourself
Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all;

O woe! oh woful, &c.] This fpeech of exclamations is not in the edition above cited. Several other parts, unneceffary or tautology, are not to be found in the faid edition; which occafions the variation in this from the common books. POPE. • In former editions,

Peace, ho, for fhame, confufions: care lives not

In thefe confufions.] This fpeech, though it contains good Chriftian doctrine, though it is perfectly in character for the Friar, Mr. Pope has curtailed to little or nothing, because it has not the fanction of the firft old copy. But there was another reafon certain corruptions ftarted, which should have required the indulging his private fenfe to make them intelligible, 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. THEOBALD,

H 3

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