Alack, alack! what blood is this, which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre?
What mean these masterless and gory swords
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?
[Enters the monument.
Romeo! O, pale!—who else? what, Paris too?
And steep'd in blood?—Ah, what an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable chance !—
The lady stirs.
[JULIET wakes.
JUL. O, comfortable friar! where is my lord?
I do remember well where I should be,
And there I am:-Where is my Romeo?

[Noise within.

FRI. I hear some noise.-Lady, come from that

Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS.

PAGE. This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.

1 WATCH. The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard:

Go, some of you, who e'er you find, attach.
[Exeunt some.

Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead,
Who here hath lain this two days buried.
Go, tell the prince,-run to the Capulets,-
Raise up the Montagues, some others search ;-
[Exeunt other Watchmen.
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
But the true ground of all these piteous woes,
We cannot without circumstance descry.

Re-enter some of the Watch, with Balthasar.

2 WATCH. Here's Romeo's man, we found him in the churchyard.

1 WATCH. Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither.

Re-enter another Watchman, with Friar LAURENCE.

3 WATCH. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and weeps:

We took this mattock and this spade from him, As he was coming from this churchyard side.

1 WATCH. A great suspicion; stay the friar too.

Enter the PRINCE and Attendants.

PRINCE. What misadventure is so early up, That calls our person from our morning's rest?

Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and others. CAP. What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?

LA. CAP. The people* in the street cry-Romeo, Some-Juliet, and some-Paris; and all run, With open outcry, toward our monument.

PRINCE. What fear is this, which startles in our ears?

(*) First folio, young tree.

(+) First folio, 'Tis in.

As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,-] "This is one of *se touches of nature that would have escaped the hand of ay painter less attentive to it than Shakespeare. What happens 1 person while he is under the manifest influence of fear wise to him, when he is recovered from it, like a dream."-SILVENS

(*) First folio, O the people.

b Ah churl! drink all; and leave no friendly drop,-] Thus the earliest quarto, 1597. The folio, 1623, has :—

"O churl! drink all and left no friendly drop."

In our ears?] The old copies have "your ears," which Johnson corrected.

To press before thy father to a grave? PRINCE. Seal up the mouth of outragea for a while,

Till we can clear these ambiguities,

And know their spring, their head, their true descent;

And then will I be general of your woes,
And lead you even to death: mean time forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.-
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

FRL I am the greatest, able to do least,
Yet most suspected, as the time and place
Doth make against me, of this direful murder;
And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
Myself condemned and myself excus'd.

PRINCE. Then say at once what thou dost know in this.

FRI. I will be brief, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale.

Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet ;
And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:
I married them; and their stolen marriage-day
Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death
Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city;
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd.
You-to remove that siege of grief from her,—
Betroth'd, and would have married her perforce,
To county Paris:-then comes she to me;
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some means
To rid her from this second marriage,
Or, in my cell there would she kill herself.
Then gave I her, so tutor❜d by my art,
A sleeping potion; which so took effect
As I intended, for it wrought on her

The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo,
That he should hither come as this dire night,
To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
Being the time the potion's force should cease.
But he which bore my letter, friar John,
Was staid by accident; and yesternight
Return'd my letter back: then all alone,
At the prefixed hour of her waking,
Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:
But, when I came, (some minute ere the time
Of her awaking,) here untimely lay
The noble Paris, and true Romeo, dead.
She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,
And bear this work of heaven with patience:
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
But (as it seems) did violence on herself.

The mouth of outrage-] Mr. Collier's MS. annotator substitates outery, but no change is needed. In "Henry VI." Pt. I. Act IV. Sc. 1, we find the word with precisely the same signification as in the present passage:

man.

Where's Romeo's man? what can he say to this? BAL. I brought my master news of Juliet's death;

And then in post he came from Mantua,
To this same place, to this same monument.
This letter he early bid me give his father;
And threaten'd me with death, going in the vault,
If I departed not, and left him there.

PRINCE. Give me the letter, I will look on it.Where is the county's page, that raised the watch?

Sirrah, what made your master in this place?

PAGE. He came with flowers to strew his lady's

grave;

And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:
Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb;
And, by and by, my master drew on him;
And then I ran away to call the watch.

PRINCE. This letter doth make good the friar's words,

Their course of love, the tidings of her death:
And here he writes-that he did buy a poison
Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.-
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!—
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!
And I, for winking at your discords too,
Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd.

CAP. O, brother Montague! give me thy hand:
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
Can I demand.

MON. But I can give thee more:
For I will raise her statue in pure gold;
That, whiles Verona by that name is known,
There shall no figure at such rate be set,
As that of true and faithful Juliet.

CAP. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie;
Poor sacrifices of our enmity!

PRINCE. A glooming peace this morning with it brings;

The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished ; (3) For never was a story of more woe, Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

[Exeunt.

(1) SCENE I.-Here comes of the house of the Montagues.] Shakespeare was evidently acquainted with the tradition of the Montagues adopting a cognisance in their hats, that they might be distinguished from the Capulets, since in the play he has made them known at a distance. The circumstance, as Malone pointed out, is mentioned in a Devise of a Masque, written for the Right Honourable Viscount Mountacute, 1575:

"And for a further proofe, he shewed in hys hat

Thys token which the Mountacutes did beare alwaies, for that
They covet to be known from Capels, where they pass,
For ancient grutch whych long ago, 'tweene these two houses

was."

(2) SCENE I.--Thou shall not stir one foot to seek a foe.] The earliest copy of Romeo and Juliet, the quarto of 1597,-which is peculiarly interesting from its presenting us with the poet's first projection of a play he subsequently expanded and elaborated with much care and skill, and is valuable too, in helping us to correct many typographical errors, and to supply some lines omitted, perhaps by negligence, in the later editions,-makes short work of this scene. In place of the dialogue, from the entrance of Benvolio to the arrival of the Prince, it has merely the following stage direction ;-"They draw, to them enters Tybalt, they fight, to them the Prince, old Mountagne, and his wife, old Capulet and his wife, and other citizens, and part them."

(3) SCENE I.-Out of her favour, where I am in love.] In the old poem of 66 Romeus and Juliet," which Shakespeare adopted as the ground-work of his tragedy, the hero is first introduced to us as in the play, the victim to an unrequited passion.

Romeus, we are told,—

"Hath founde a mayde so fayre (he found so foule his happe).
Whose beauty, shape, and comely grace, did so his heart entrappe,
That from his owne affayres, his thought she did remove;
Onely he sought to honor her, to serve her and to love.
To her he writeth oft, oft messengers are sent,
At length (in hope of better spede) himselfe the lover went;
Present to pleade for grace, which absent was not founde:
And to discover to her eye his new receaved wounde.
But she that from her youth was fostred evermore

With vertues foode, and taught in schole of wisdomes skilfull lore:

By auns were did cutte of thaffections of his love,
That he no more occasion had so vayne a sute to move.
So sterne she was of chere, (for all the payne he tooke)
That, in reward of toyle, she would not geve a frendly looke."

(4) SCENE I.-That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store] The meaning of this somewhat complex passage seems to be ;-she is rich in the possession of unequalled beauty, but poor, because, having devoted herself to chastity, when she dies, her wealth, that is, beauty, dies with her. The same conceit occurs repeatedly in Shakespeare's poems :

SONNET 1.

"From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease, His tender heir might bear his memory:

"

SONNET 4.

"Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone
What acceptable audit canst thou leave?
The unus'd beauty must be tomb'd with thee,
Which, used, lives thy executor to be."

See, also, Sonnets 2, 3, 5, 6, 10, 11, 12, 13, and 14.

(5) SCENE I.-Examine other beauties.] So "the trustiest of his feeres" counsels Romeus in the old poem :"Choose out some worthy dame, her honor thou and serve, Who will geve eare to thy complaint, and pitty ere thou sterve But sow no more thy paynes in such a barrayne soyle: As yeldes in harvest time no crop, in recompence of toyle. Ere long the townishe dames together will resort: Some one of bewty, favour, shape, and of so lovely porte, With so fast fixed eye, perhaps thou mayst beholde: That thou shalt quite forget thy love, and passions past of olde.”

(6) SCENE II.-This night I hold an old accustom'd feast.] From the old poem :

"The wery winter nightes restore the Christmas games,
And now the season doth invite to banquet townish dames.
And fyrst in Capels house, the chiefe of all the kyn
Sparth for no cost, the wonted use of banquets to begyn.
No Lady fayre or fowle was in Verona towne,
No knight or gentleman of high or lowe renowne;
But Capilet himselfe hath byd unto his feast,
Or by his name in paper sent, appoynted as a geast.

(7) SCENE III.-'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years.] We have already, in the Preliminary Observations, alluded to Tyrwhitt's conjecture that the earthquake spoken of by the Nurse was the one chronicled by Holinshed, as being felt in London and other parts of the kingdom in 1580. The Rev. Joseph Hunter ("New Illustrations, &c. &c., of Shakespeare," Vol. II. p. 120) contends, however, that it is much more probable the earthquake the Poet had in his mind was that which occurred ten years before, in the neighbourhood of Verona, and was so severe that it destroyed Ferrara. "When the church of St. Stephen at Ferrara was rebuilt," Mr. Hunter informs us, 'an inscription was placed against it, from which we may collect the terrible nature of the visitation:

-Cum anno M. D. LXX die XVII Novembris tertia noctis hora, quam maximus terræ motus hanc præclarissimam urbem ita conquassasset, ut ejus fortissima monia, munitissimas arces, alta palatia, religiosa templa, sacratas turres, omnesque fere ædes omnino evertisset et prostrasset, una cum maximo civium damino, atque acerbâ clade."'

There is a small tract, still extant, entitled "A coppie of the letter sent from Ferrara the xxii of November, 1570. Imprinted at London in Paules Churchyarde, at the signe of the Lucrece, by Thomas Purfoote;" in which the writer describes "the great and horrible earthquakes, the excessiue and vnrecouerable losses, with the greate mortalitie and death of people, the ruine and ouerthrowe of an infinite number of monasteries, pallaces and other howses, and the destruction of his graces excellencies castle." The first earthquake was on Thursday, the 11th, at ten at night, "whiche endured the space of an Aue

(8) SCENE III.

(9) SCENE IV.-Mercutio.] The Mercutio of the play is Shakespeare's own, the only hint for all the wit, the gaiety, and the chivalry, with which he has indued this favourite character, being the following brief description of his prototype in the poem :

"A courtier that eche where was highly had in pryce,

For he was coorteous of his speche, and pleasant of devise.
Even as a lyon would emong the lambes be bolde,
Such was emong the bashfull maydes, Mercutio to beholde."

(10) SCENE IV.-Give me a torch.] "The character which Romeo declares his resolution to assume, will be best explained by a passage in Westward Hoe,' by Decker and Webster, 1607; He is just like a torch-bearer to maskers; he wears good cloaths and is ranked in good ompany, but he doth nothing.' A torch-bearer seems to have been a constant appendage on every troop of masks. To hold a torch was anciently no degrading office. Queen Elizabeth's Gentlemen-Pensioners attended her to Camtridge, and held torches while a play was acted before her in the Chapel of King's College, on a Sunday evening."STEEVENS,

(11) SCENE IV.

'What,

Tut! dan's the mouse, the constable's own word: If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire.] Dus's the mouse was a proverbial saying, the precise meaning of which has not come down to us. In the comedy of "Patient Grissil," 1603, Babulo says, "The sun bath play'd bo-peep in the element any time these two hours, as I do some mornings when you call. 'What, Babulo say you. Here, master,' say I; and then this eye opens, yet don is the mouse-lie still. Babulo!" says Grissil. Anon,' say I; and then this eye looks up, yet down I snug again. What, Babulo!' say you again; and then I start up, and see the sun," &c. The expression is found also in Decker and Webster's Westward Hoe," 1607,and among Ray's proverbial similes. The allusion in the following line is to an ancient country sport, called Dun is in the mire, which Gifford thus describes:-"A log of wood is brought into the midst of the room; this is Dun, (the cart-horse,) and a cry is raised, that he is stuck in the mire. Two of the company advance, either with or without ropes, to draw him out. repeated attempts, they find themselves unable to do it, and call for more assistance.-The game continues till all the company take part in it, when Dun is extricated of course; and the merriment arises from the awkward and affected efforts of the rustics to lift the log, and from sundry arch contrivances to let the ends of it fall on one another's toes."-Works of Ben Jonson, Vol. VII. p. 282.

After

(12) SCENE IV.-This is she-] It is instructive to compare the original draft of this famous speech as it appears in the quarto of 1597 with the finished version of

the later editions, and observe the ease and mastery of touch by which the alterations are effected.

In the quarto, 1597, after the line

"Ah, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you, Benvolio exclaims :

"Queene Mab! whats she?

The description then proceeds :-
"She is the Fairies Midwife and doth come
In shape no bigger than an Aggat stone
On the forefinger of a Burgomaster,
Drawne with a teeme of little Atomi,
A thwart mens noses when they lie a sleepe.
Her waggon spokes are made of spinners webs,
The couer, of the winges of Grashoppers,
The traces are the Moone-shine watrie beames,
The collers crickets bones, the lash of filmes,
Her waggoner is a small gray coated flie
Not halfe so big as is a little worme,
Pickt from the lasie finger of a maide,
And in this sort she gallops vp and downe
Through Louers braines, and then they dream of loue.
O're Courtiers knees: who strait on cursies dreame,
O're Ladies lips, who dreame on kisses strait:
Which oft the angrie Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breathes with sweet meats tainted are,
Sometimes she gallops ore a Lawers lap,
And then dreames he of smelling out a sute,
And sometime comes she with a tithe pigs taile,
Tickling a Parson's nose that lies asleepe,
And then dreames he of another benefice:
Sometime she gallops ore a souldiers nose,
And then dreames he of cutting forraine throats,
Of breaches ambuscados, countermines,

Of healthes fiue fadome deepe, and then anon
Drums in his eare: at which he startes and wakes,
And sweares a Praier or two and sleepes againe.

This is that Mab that makes maids lie on their backes,

And proues them women of good cariage.

This is the verie Mab that plats the manes of Horses in the night, And plats the Elfelocks in foule sluttish haire, Which once vntangled much misfortune breedes. Rом. Peace, peace," &c.

Of yonder knight ?]

Romeo's first sight of Juliet at the feast is thus quaintly described in the old poem :

"At length he saw a mayd, right fayre of perfect shape,
Which Theseus or Paris would have chosen to their rape.
Whom erst he never sawe, of all she pleasde him most;
Within himselfe he sayd to her, thou justly mayst thee boste
Of perfit shapes renoune, and beauties sounding prayse,
Whose like ne hath, ne shalbe seene, ne liveth in our dayes.
And whilst he fixd on her his partiall perced eye,
His former love, for which of late he ready was to die,
Is nowe as quite forgotte, as it had never been."

(14) SCENE V.-Come hither, nurse: what is yon gentleman?] Compare the poem.

"What twayne are those (quoth she) which prease unto the door,
Whose pages in their hand doe beare, two torches light before?
And then as eche of them had of his houshold name,
So she him named yet once agayne the yong and wily dame.
And tell me who is he with vysor in his hand,

That yender doth in masking weede besyde the window stand.
His name is Romeus (said shee) a Montagewe,
Whose Fathers pryde first styrd the strife which both your
housholdes rewe.

The woord of Montagew her joyes did overthrow
And straight in steade of happy hope, despayre began to grow.
What hap have I quoth she, to love my father's foe?
What, am I wery of my wele? what, do I wishe my woe?
But though her grievouse paynes distraind her tender hart,
Yet with an outward shewe of joye she cloked inward smart;
And of the courtlyke dames her leave so courtly tooke,
That none dyd gesse the sodain change by changing of her looke."