Prin. And, for that offence, Immediately we do exíle him hence: I have an interest in your hates' proceeding, Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuses, SCENE II. A Room in Capulet's House. Enter JULIET. Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' mansion; such a waggoner As Phaeton would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately.— Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night! That run-away's eyes may wink;' and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen!— Lovers can see to do their amorous rites By their own beauties: or, if love be blind, I Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night! That run-away's eyes may wink; &c.] Juliet first wishes for the absence of the sun, and then invokes the night to spread its curtain close around the world: Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night! Next, recollecting that the night would seem short to her, she speaks of it as of a run-away, whose flight she would wish to retard, and whose eyes she would blind, lest they should make discoveries. It best agrees with night.-Come, civil night,' Come, night!-Come, Romeo! come, thou day in night! For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die, To an impatient child, that hath new robes, Enter Nurse, with Cords. And she brings news; and every tongue, that speaks But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence.Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there, the cords, That Romeo bade thee fetch? * Come, civil night,] Civil is grave, decently solemn. 3 Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks,] These are terms of falconry. An unmanned hawk is one that is not brought to endure company. Bating, (not baiting, as it has hitherto been printed,) is fluttering with the wings as striving to fly away. the garish sun,] Garish is gaudy, showy. Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords, [Throws them down. Jul. Ah me! what news! why dost thou wring thy hands? Nurse. Ah well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone !— Alack the day!-he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! Romeo can, Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, I. Brief sounds determine of my weal, or woe. Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,→→→→ God save the mark!-here on his manly breast: A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood, All in gore blood;-I swoonded at the sight. Jul. O break, my heart!-poor bankrupt, break at once! To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; say thou but I,] In Shakspeare's time the affirmative particle ay was usually written I, and here it is necessary to retain the old spelling. God save the mark!] This proverbial exclamation occurs again, with equal obscurity, in Othello, Act I. sc. i. Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! That ever I should live to see thee dead! Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughter'd; and is Tybalt dead? My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord?— Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! For who is living, if those two are gone? Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished. Jul. O God!-did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did. Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of divinest show! Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, A damned saint, an honourable villain!O, nature! what hadst thou to do in hell, When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?— Was ever book, containing such vile matter, So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace! Nurse. There's no trust, Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitæ:- Jul. -Blister'd be thy tongue, For such a wish! he was not born to shame : For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd VOL. IX. G O, what a beast was I to chide at him! Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin? Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,7 When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?— But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband: Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my hus band: All this is comfort; Wherefore weep I then? Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: 8 Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship, 7 What tongue shall smooth thy name,] To smooth, in ancient language, is to stroke, to caress, to fondle. & Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts.] That is, is worse than the loss of ten thousand Tybalts. • Which modern lamentation, &c.] i. e. trite, common. 1 |