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La. Cep. What's the matter?
La. Cap. Oh me, oh me, my child, my only life!
Cap. For shame, bring Juliet forth ; her Lord is come.
Cap. Ha! let me see her--Out, alas ! Me's cold ;
Nurse. O lamentable day!
Enter Friar Lawrence, and Paris with Musicians.
fon, the night before thy wedding day
son-in-law. Pár. Have I thought long to see this morning's face, And doth it give me such a light as this!
La. Cap. Accurs’d, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!
Nurfe. O woe! oh wolul, woru!, woful day!
Never was seen fo black a day as this: -
Par. Beguild, divorced, wronged, fpighted, slain,
Cap. Despiss'd, diftreffed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd,
(13) Peace, bo, for same, confufions: Care lives not in thesa Confufions,] This Speech, though it contains good Christian Doctrine, though it is perfectly in Character for the Friar, and not the most delo picable for its Poetry, Mr. Pope has curtailed to little or nothing, because it has not the Sanction of the first old Copy. By ihe same Rule, had he pursued it throughout, we might have lost some of the finest additional Strokes in the two parts of K. Henry IV. But there was another Reason, I suspect for curtailing: Cerrain Corruptions started, which should have required the indulging his private Sense to make them intelligible, and this was an unreasonable Labour. As I have reformed the Pafiage above quoted, I dare warrant, I have reitored our Poct's Text; and a 'finc fentible Reproof it contains against immoderate Grief: 'for the Friar begins with telling them, that the Cure of those Confufions, into which the melancholy Accident had thrown 'em, did not live in the confus'd and inordinate Exclamations which they expressed on that Account,
Oh, in this love you love your child fo ill,
Cap. All things, that we ordained festival,
Fri. Sir, go you in, and, Madam, go with him;
[E:xeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris and Friar.
Manent Musicians, and Nurse. Mits. Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone.
Nurse. Honest good fellows: ah, put up, put up; For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.
[Exit Nurse. Muf. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
(14) For tho' some Nature bid us a!l lament.] Some Nature? Sure, is is the general Rule of Nature, or the could not bid us all lament. i have ventured 10 fulftitute an Epithet, which, I suspect, was loft in the idle, corrupted Word, 'Some; and which admirably quadrates with the Verse succeeding this; that though the fondneis of nature lay fuch an injunction upon us, yet that Realon does but mock our , videolling forsow.
Enter Peter. Pet. Musicians, oh musicians, heart's ease, heart's eale: Oh, an you will have me live, why, play heart's ease.
Muf. Why, beart's ease?
Pet. O musicians, because my heart itfelf plays, my heart itself is full of woe. O, play me some merry dumps to comfort me !
Muf. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now.
Pet. No money, on my faith, but the gleek : I will give you the minftrel.
Muf. Then will I give you the serving creature.
Pet. Then will I lay the serving creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets. I'll re you, I'll fa you, do you note me?
Muf. An you re us, and fa us, you note us. 2 Muf. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out
Pet. Then have at you with my wit : I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my
iron dagger: answer me like men : When griping grief the heart doth wound, Then mufic with her silver found Why, silver,ound? why, mufick with her flver found? What say you, Simon Catling?
1 Muf. Marry, Sir, because silver hath a sweet found. Pet. Pretty! what say you, Hugh Rebeck ?
2 Muf. I say, filver found, because musicians found for silver.
Pet. Pretty too! what say you, Samuel Sound-Board? 3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to fay.
Pet. O, I cry you mercy, you are the finger, I will fay for you. It is musick with her silver sound, because fuch fellows, as you, have no gold for founding.
The mufick with her filver found
Muf. What a pestilent knave is this fame?
2 Muf. Hang him, Jack; come, we'll in here, tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.
Enter ROM E O.
Baltba. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
you did leave it for my office, Sir. Rom. Is it even so ? than I defy you, stars ! Thou know'st my lodging,-- get me ink and paper, And hire poft-horses. I will hence to-night.