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Jul. O break, my heart!-poor bankrupt, break

at once!

To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty!
Vile earth, to earth refign, end motion here;
And thou and Romeo prefs one heavy bier!
Nurfe. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt! honeft gentleman!
That ever I fhould live to fee thee dead!

Jul. What ftorm is this, that blows fo contrary?
Is Romeo flaughter'd? and is Tybalt dead?
My dear-lov'd coufin, and my dearer lord?
Then let the trumpet found the general doom;
For who is living, if thofe two are gone?
Nurfe. Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished;
Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished.

Jul. O God!-did Romeo's hand fhed Tybalt's blood?

Nurfe. It did, it did. Alas, the day! it did. Jul. O ferpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep fo fair a cave?

Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!

Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish ravening lamb! Defpifed fubftance of divineft fhow!

Juft oppofite to what thou justly seem'ft,

A damned faint, an honourable villain!

8 In old editions,

Ravenous dove, feather'd raven, &c.] The four following lines not in the first edition, as well as fome others which I have omitted. POPE.

Ravenous dove, feather'd raven,

Wolvi ravening lamb!] This paffage Mr. Pope has thrown out of the text, because these two noble hemiftichs are inharmonious: but is there no fuch thing as a crutch for a labouring, halting verfe? I'll venture to restore to the poet a line that is in his own mode of thinking, and truly worthy of him. Ravenous was blunderingly coined out of raven and ravening; and, if we only throw it out, we gain at once an harmonious verfe, and a proper contraft of epithets and images. Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-rav'ning lamb! THEOB. O nature!

F 2

O nature what hadst thou to do in hell,
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?
Was ever book, containing fuch vile matter,
So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
In fuch a gorgeous palace!

Nurfe. There's no trust,

No faith, no honefty, in men; all perjur'd;
All, all forfworn, all naught; and all diffemblers.-
Ah, where's my man? Give me fome aqua vitæ :-
Thefe griefs, these woes, these forrows make me old.

Shame come to Romeo!

Jul. Blifter'd be thy tongue,

For fuch a wifh! he was not born to fhame:
Upon his brow fhame is afham'd to fit;

For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
Sole monarch of the univerfal earth.

O, what a beaft was I to chide at him!

Nurfe. Will you fpeak well of him that kill'd your coufin?

Jul. Shall I fpeak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue fhall smooth thy name, When I, thy three-hours-wife, have mangled it? But, wherefore, villain, didft thou kill my coufin? That villain coufin would have kill'd my husband. Back, foolish tears, back to your native fpring; Your tributary drops belong to woe,

Which you, miftaking, offer up to joy.

My husband lives, that Tybalt would have flain;
And Tybalt's dead, that would have flain my husband:
All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?

Some word there was, worfer than Tybalt's death,
That murder'd me: I would forget it fain;
But, oh! it preffes to my memory,
Like damned guilty deeds to finners' minds.
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banified:
That banifbed, that one word, banished,

Hath flain ten thoufand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there:
Or, if four woe delights in fellowship,

And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,
Why follow'd not, when fhe faid, Tybalt's dead,
Thy father or thy mother, nay, or both,

Which modern lamentation might have mov'd:
But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
Romeo is banished-to speak that word,
Is, father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All flain, all dead: Romeo is banished;

There is no end, no limit, meafure, bound,
In that word's death; no words can that woe found.
Where is my father, and my mother, Nurfe?

Nurfe. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corfe.
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Jul. Wafh they his wounds with tears? mine fhall
be spent,

When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up thofe cords:-Poor ropes, you are beguil❜d;
Both you and I, for Romeo is exil'd.

He made you for a high-way to my bed;
But I, a maid, die maiden widowed.

Come, Cords; come, Nurfe; I'll to my wedding-bed:
And Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
Nurfe, Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo
To comfort you;-I wot well, where he is.

Hark ye.

Your Romeo will be here at night.

I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell. Jul. Oh find him! give this ring to my true knight; And bid him come to take his laft farewell.

[Exeunt.

9 Hath fain ten thousand Tybalts.] Hath put Tybalt out of my mind, as if out of being. JOHNSON.

Which modern lamentation, &c.] This line is left out of the later editions, I fuppofe becaufe the editors did not remeraber that Shakespeare ufes modern for commen, or fight: I believe it was in his time confounded in colloquial language with moderate. JOHNSON.

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SCENE III.

Friar Laurence's cell.

Enter friar Laurence and Romeo.

Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful

man:

Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,

And thou art wedded to calamity.

Rom. Father, what news? what is the prince's
doom?

What forrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not?

Fri. Too familiar

Is my dear fon with fuch four company ?

I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

Rom. What lefs than dooms-day is the prince's doom?

Fri. A gentler judgment vanifh'd from his lips, Not body's death, but body's banishment.

Rom. Ha! banishment! be merciful, fay-death; For exile hath more terror in his look,

Much more than death. Do not fay-banishment.
Fri. Here from Verona art thou banifhed.
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Rom. There is no world without Verona's walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence-banifhed, is banish'd from the world;
And world's exile is death. That banishment
Is death mif-term'd calling death, banishment,
Thou cut'ft my head off with a golden axe,
And finil'ft upon the ftroke that murders me.
Fri. O deadly fin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,"
Taking thy part, hath rufht afide the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment.
This is dear mercy, and thou feeft it not.

Rom.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy heaven is here,

I

Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog,
And little moufe, every unworthy thing,
Lives here in heaven, and may look on her;
But Romeo may not. ' More validity,
More honourable ftate, more courtship lives
In carrion flies, than Romeo: they may feize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal bleffings from her lips;
Which, even in pure and veftal modefty
Still blufh, as thinking their own kiffes, fin.
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly;
They are free men, but I am banish'd.

And fay'st thou yet, that exile is not death?
But Romeo may not ;-
-he is banished.

Hadft thou no poifon mixt, no fharp-ground knife,
No fudden mean of death, tho' ne'er fo mean,
But, banished, to kill me? banished?

O Friar, the damned ufe that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: how haft thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghoftly confeffor,

A fin-abfolver, and my friend profeft,

To mangle me with that word,-banifhment? Fri. Thou fond madman, hear me but fpeak a word.

Rom. O, thou wilt fpeak again of banishment. Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; Adverfity's fweet milk, philofophy,

To comfort thee, tho' thou art banished.

Rom. Yet, banifhed ?-hang up philosophy : Unless philofophy can make a Juliet,

1

More validity,

More honourable ftate, more courtship lives

In carrion flies, than Romeo.] Validity feems here to mean worth or dignity; and courtship the ftate of a courtier permitted to approach the highest prefence. JOHNSON.

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