Imatges de pàgina

be out.

Mer. Good King of cats, nothing but one of your fine lives, that I mean to make bold withal; and as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the cars ? Make haste, left mine be about your ears eresit Tyh. I am for you.

[Drawing. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, Sir, your passado.

(Mercutio and Tybalt fight.
Rom. Draw, Benvolio,- beat down their weapons-
Gentlemen--for shame, forbear this outrage-
Tyball Mercutio the Prince exprefly hath
Forbidden bandying in Verona streets.
Hold, Tyba!--good Mercuti:. [Exit Tybalt.

Mr. I am hurt-
A plague of both the houses! I am sped:
Is he gone, and hath nothing?

Ben, What, art thou hurt?

Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough. Where is my page ? go, villain, fetch a surgeon.

Rom. Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much.

Met. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door, but 'tis enough, 'twill serve : ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man.

I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world : a plague of both your houses! What? a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death ? a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetick? why the devil came you between us ? I was hurt under your arm,

Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint; a plague o' both your houses!
They have made worms-meat of me,
I have it, and foundly too. Plague o' your houses!

(Exeunt Mer, and Ben.
Rom. This gentleman, the Prince's near ally,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
With Tyalt's Nander; Tybalt, that an hour


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Hath been my cousin : O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper foftned valour's steel.

Enter Benvolio..
Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead;
That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds,
Which tco untimely here did scorn the earth.

Rom. This day's black fate on more days does depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.

Enter Tybalt.
Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

Rom. Alive? in triumphi and Mercutio llain?
Away to heav'n, respective lenity,
And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now !
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'st me; for Mercurio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company :
Cr thou or ), or both, must go with him.

Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didit confort him here,,
Shalt with him hence.
Rom. This shall determine that...

[They fight, Tybalt falls..
Ben, Rameo, away, begone :
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain
Stand not amaz'd; the Prince will doom thoe death,
If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away.

Rom. O! I am Fortune's fool.
Ben. Why dost thou stay?

[Exit Romèo.
Enter Citizens.
Cit. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercuria ?
Tidalt, that murderer, which way ran he ?

Ben. There lies that Tybalt.

Cut. Up, Sir, go with me :
I charge thee in the Prince's name, obey:


Enter Prince, Montague, Capulet, their Wives, &c. Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray ?

Ben, O noble Prince, I can discover all Th' unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, 'That flew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

La.Cap. Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child ! Unhappy sight! alas, the blood is fpillid Of my

dear kinfman -Prince, as thou art true, For blood of ours, thed blood of Montague.

Prin. Benvelio, who began this fray?

Ben. Tybalt, here fain, whom Romeo's hand did slay : Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal Your high displeafure : all this uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Of Tybalt, đeaf to peaee ; but that he tilts With piercing steeř'at bold Mercutio's breaft-;Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, And with a martial scorn, with one hand beats Cold death aside, and with the other sends It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity Retorts it : Romeo he cries aloud, Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, And 'twixt them rushes ; underneath whose arm An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life Of stout Mercurio, and then Tybalt Aled ; But by and by comes back to Romeo, Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, And to't they go like lightning: for ere I Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain ; And as he fell, did Romeo turn to fly : This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague. Affection makes him false, he speaks not true. Some twenty of them fought in this black ftrife, And all those twenty could but kill one life.

I beg


I beg forjuitice, which thou, Prince, must give ;
Romeo ilew Tyhalı, komeo must not live.

Prin. Romeo flew him, he flew Mercutio ;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe ?

la. Mont. Not Romeo, Prince, he was Mercutio's friend His fault concludes but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt.

Prin. And for that offence, Immediately we do exile him hence : I have an interest in your hearts' proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding : But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine, That you shall all repent the loss of mine. 1 will be deaf to pleading and excuses, Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses; Therefore use none ; let Romeo hence in haste, Else, when he's found, that hour is his laft. (21) Bear hence this body, and attend our will: “Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.”


SCENE changes to an Apartment in Capulet's


Enter Juliet alone.
ALLOP apace, you fiery-footed steeds,

1 Tow'rds i-bæbus' mansion ; such a waggoner, As Piretor, would whip you to the west, And bring in cloudy night immediately,

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(21) Eile, quber he is found, that hour is bis last.] It is wonderful thie Mr. Pipe thould report the want of ear upon any body, and pals fuch an inharmonious unícanning verse in his own ear: a verse, that cannot run ort from the tongue with any cadence of musick, the short and long syllables stand so perversely. We must read,

Ele, when be's found, that hour is bis laft. Every diligent and knowing reader of our Poet must have observd, that bour and fire are almost perpetually disyllables in the pronouncia-, tion and scanlion of his verles.


Spread thy close curtain, love-performing Night, (22)

That th’ Run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalkt of and unseen. Lovers can see to do their am'rous rites By their own beauties : or, if love be blind, It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, T'hou fober-suited matron, all in black, And learn me how to lose a winning match, Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenheads. Hood my unmann'd blood baiting in my cheeks, With thy black mantle; till ftrange love, grown bold, Thinks true love acted, simple modesty. Come, night, come, Romeo ! come, thou day in night! For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night, Whiter than snow upon a raven's back: Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night! Give me my Romeo, and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heav'n fo fine, That all the world shall be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun. O, I have bought the mansion of a love, But not possess'd it; and though I am sold, Not yet enjoy'd; so tedious is this day, As is the night before some festival, To an impatient child that hath new robes, And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse!

(22) Spread thy close curtain, love-performing Night,

Tbat runaways eyes may wink;] What runaways are these, whose eyes Juliet is wishing to have nopt ? Macbeth, we may remember, makes an invocation to Night, much in the same strain :

-Come, feeling Night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, &c. So Juliet here would have night's darkness obscure the great eye of the day, the Sun; whom confidering in a poetical light as Pboebus, drawn in his carr with fiery-footed steeds, and posting thro' the Heav'ns, the very properly calls him, with regard to the swiftness of his courfe, the Runaway. In the like manner our Poet speaks of the night, is the Merchant of Venice. For the close Night doth play the runaway. Mr. Was burton.

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