In all refpects by me; nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her here with my fon Paris' love,
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next,
But, foft; what day is this?

Par. Monday, my Lord.

Cap. Monday? Ha! ha! well, Wednesday is too foon,

On Thursday let it be. O' Thursday, tell her,
She fhall be married to this noble Earl.

-Will you be ready? Do you like this Hafte?
We'll keep no great a do-a friend or two-
For, hark you, Tybalt being flain fo late,
It may be thought we held him carelefly,
Being our kinfman, if we revel much;

Therefore we'll have fome half a dozen friends,
And there's an end. But what fay you to Thurfday?
Par. My Lord, I would that Thursday were to-

morrow.

Cap. Well, get you gone-on Thursday be it

then.

Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed. [To Lady Cap.
Prepare her, wife, againft this wedding-day.
Farewel, my Lord-Light to my chamber, hoa!
'Fore me.It is fo late, that we may call
It early by and by. Good night.

daughter will be ruled in all refpects by him. We should read, Sir Paris, I will make a SEPA

RATE tender.

i. e. I will venture Separately on my own head, to make you a tender of my daughter's love without confulting her. For Sir Paris was impatient, and the mother had faid,

[Exeunt.

Things have fall'n out, Sir, fo unluckily,

That we have had no time to move our daughter.

WARBURTON. Desperate means only bold, advent'rous, as if he had said in the vulgar phrafe, I will speak a bold word, and venture to pro-, mife you my daughter.

SCENE

1

SCENE VII.

Juliet's Chamber looking to the Garden.

Enter Romeo and Juliet, above at a window; a ladder

Jul.

W!

ILT thou be gone? it is not yet near

day;

It was the Nightingale, and not the Lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly the fings on yon pomgranate tree :
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale,

Rom. It was the Lark, the herald of the morn,
No Nightingale. Look, love, what envious ftreaks
Do lace the fevering clouds in yonder eaft;
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountains' tops.
I must be gone and live, or ftay and die.
Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it,
It is fome meteor that the Sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua;
Then stay a while, thou shalt not go fo foon.
Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death,
I am content, if thou wilt have it fo

I'll fay, yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whofe notes do beat
The vaulty heav'ns fo high above our heads.
9 I have more care to stay, than will to go.
Come death, and welcome; Juliet wills it fo.

How is't, my Soul? let's talk, it is not day,
ful. It is, it is; hie hence, be gone, away.
It is the lark that fings fo out of tune,
Straining harsh difcords, and unpleafing sharps.
Some fay, the lark makes fweet divifion;
This doth not fo: for fhe divideth us.

Some fay, the lark and loathed toad chang'd eyes;
9 O, now I would they had chang'd voices too!
'Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee up with huntfup to the day.
O now be gone, more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light?--More dark and
dark our Woes.

9 O, now I WOULD they had chang'd voices too!] The fond having very fine eyes, and the lark very ugly ones, was the occafion of a common faying among the people, that the toad and lark had chang'd eyes. To this the speaker alludes. But fure the need not have wished that they had changed voices too. The lark appear'd to her untunable enough in all confcience: As appears by what she said just before,

It is the lak that fings fo out

of tune, Straining harth difcords and

unpleafing fharps.
This directs us to the right read-
ing. For how natural was it for
her after this to add,

Some fay the lark and loathed
toad change eyes.
now I wor they have
chang'd voices too.

Enter Nurfe.

Nurfe Madam,

Jul. Nurse?

Nurfe. Your lady mother's coming to your cham

ber:

The day is broke, be wary, look about.

[Exit Nurse. Jul. Then, Window, let Day in, and let Life out. Rom. Farewel, farewel; one Kifs, and I'll defcend. [Romeo defcends.

Ful. Art thou gone fo? love! lord! ah husband!

friend!

I must hear from thee ev'ry day in th' hour,
For in a minute there are many days.

O' by this count I fhall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewel: I will omit no opportunity,
Than may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Jul. O think'ft thou, we fhall ever meet again?
Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes fhall ferve
For fweet difcourfes, in our time to come.
Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining foul.
Methinks, I fee thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
Either my eye-fight fails, or thou look'st pale.
Rom. And trust me, love, in mine eye fo do you:
Dry Sorrow drinks our blood.

Adieu, adieu.

SCENE

[Exit Romeo.

VIII.

Jul. Oh fortune, fortune, all men call thee fickle : If thou art fickle, what doft thou with him That is renown'd for faith; be fickle, fortune:

For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,. But fend him back.

Enter Lady Capulet.

La. Cap. Ho, daughter, are you up?

Jul. Who is't that calls? Is is my lady mother? Is the not down fo late, or up fo early? What unaccustom'd caufe procures her hither? La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet?

Jul. Madam, I am not well..

La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your coufin's death? What, wilt thou wash him from his Grave with tears?

An' if thou couldЛt, thou couldst not make him live; Therefore, have done. Some Grief fhews much of

Love;

But much of Grief fhews fill fome want of Wit.
Jul. Yet let me weep for fuch a feeling lofs.
La. Cap. So fhall you feel the Lofs, but not the
Friend

Which you do

weep for.

Jul. Feeling fo the Lofs,

I cannot chufe but ever weep the Friend.

La. Cap Well, girl, thou weep'ft not fo much for his death,

As that the villain lives which flaughter'd him.
Jul. What villain, Madam?

La. Cap. That fame villain, Romeo.

Jul [Afde. Villain and he are many miles afunder. God pardon him! I do with all my Heart: And, yet, no Man like he doth grieve my Heart. La. Cap. That is, becaufe the Traitor lives.

Jul. 31, Madam, from the Reach of these my

hands

Would, nene but I might venge my Coufin's Death!

2

procures her hither?] Pre res, for bings. WARB. 31, Medan, from-] Juliet's

equivocations are rather too artful for a mind disturbed by the loss of a new lover.

La.