Imatges de pàgina
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Which ten times fafter glide than the fun's beams,
Driving back fhadows over lowring hills:
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-fwift Cupid wings.
Now is the fun upon the highmoft hill

Of this day's journey; and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours,-yet she is not come.
Had the affections, and warm youthful blood,
She'd be as fwift in motion as a ball;

My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
And his to me:

But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
Unwieldy, flow, heavy and pale as lead.

Enter Nurfe, and Peter.

O God, fhe comes!-O honey nurse, what news?
Haft thou met with him? Send thy man away.
Nurfe Peter, ftay at the gate.

[Exit Peter. Jul. Now, good fweet nurfe,-O lord! why look'ft thou fad?

Though news be fad, yet tell them merrily;
If good, thou fham'ft the mufick of sweet news
By playing it to me with fo four a face 4.

Nurse. I am aweary, give me leave a while;-
Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had!
Jul. I would, thou hadft my bones, and I thy news:

4 If good, thou fbam'ft the mufick of sweet news,

By playing it to me with fo four a face.] So, in Antony and Cleopatra:

"needs fo tart a favour,

"To trumpet fuch good tidings!"

Again, in Cymbeline:

-if it be fummer-news,

"Smile to it before." MALONE.

5 What a jaunt bave I bad!] This is the reading of the folio. The quarto reads:

-what a jaunce have I had!

The two words appear to have been formerly fynonymous, See King Richard II.

Spur-gall'd and tiɛ'd by jauncing Bolingbroke," MALONE.

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Nay, come, I pray thee, speak ;-good, good nurse,

speak.

Nurse. Jefu, What hafte? can you not stay awhile? Do you not fee, that I am out of breath?

Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou haft breath

To fay to me- -that thou art out of breath?
The excufe, that thou doft make in this delay,
Is longer than the tale thou doft excuse.
Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
Let me be fatisfied, Is't good or bad?

Nurfe. Well, you have made a fimple choice; you know not how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, --though they be not to be talk'd on, yet they are past compare: He is not the flower of courtefy,-but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb.-Go thy ways, wench; ferve God:-What, have you dined at home?

Jul. No, no: But all this did I know before; What fays he of our marriage? what of that?

back!

Nurfe. Lord, how my head akes! what a head have I ? It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. back, my My back o' t'other fide,-O, my Bethrew your heart, for fending me about, To catch my death with jaunting up and down! Jul. I'faith, I am forry that thou art not well: Sweet, fweet, fweet nurfe, tell me, what fays my love? Nurfe. Your love fays like an honest gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, And, I warrant, a virtuous :-Where is your mother? Jul. Where is my mother?-why, the is within; Where should she be? How oddly thou reply'st?

• No, no: But all this did I knew before;

What fay's he of our marriage? bat of that P] So, in The Tra gicali Hiftory of Romeus and Juliet, 1562:

Tell me elfe what, quod fhe, this evermore I thought; "But of our marriage, fay at once, what answer have you brought?" MALONE.

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Your love fays like an honeft gentleman,
Where is your mother?

Nurfe. O, God's lady dear!

Are you fo hot? Marry, come up, I trow;
Is this the poultice for my aking bones?
Henceforward do your meffages yourself.

Jul. Here's fuch a coil ;-Come, what fays Romeẹo ?
Nurfe. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?
Jul. I have.

Nurfe. Then hie you hence to friar Lawrence' cell,
There ftays a husband to make you a wife:
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in fcarlet straight at any news.
Hie you to church; I must another way,
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Muft climb a bird's neft foon, when it is dark:
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight;
But you fhall bear the burden foon at night.
Go, I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.
Jul. Hie to high fortune!-honeft nurse, farewel.

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Friar Lawrence's Cell.

Enter Friar LAWRENCE, and ROMEO7.

Fri. So fmile the heavens upon this holy act, That after-hours with forrow chide us not!

[Exeunt.

Rom.

7 This scene was entirely new formed: the reader may be pleased to have it as it was at first written:

Rom. Now, father Laurence, in thy holy grant
Confifts the good of me and Juliet.

Friar. Without more words, I will do all I may
To make you happy, if in me it lie.

Rom. This morning here the 'pointed we should meet,
And confummate those never-parting bands,
Witness of our hearts' love, by joining hands;

And come the will.

Friar. I guess the will indeed:

Youth's love is quick, fwifter than fwifteft speed.

G 4

Enter

Rom. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That one fhort minute gives me in her fight:
Do thou but clofe our hands with holy words,
Then love-devouring death do what he dare,
It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. Thefe violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die; like fire and powder,
Which, as they kifs, confume: The sweeteft honey
Is loathfome in his own deliciousness,

And in the tafte confounds the appetite:
Therefore, love moderately; long love doth fo;
Too fwift arrives as tardy as too flow.

Enter Juliet fomewhat faft, and embraceth Romeo.
See where he comes!-

So light a foot ne'er hurts the trodden flower;
Of love and joy, fee, fee the foveregn power!
Jul. Romeo!

Rom. My Juliet, welcome! As do waking eyes
(Clos'd in night's mifts) attend the frolick day,
So Romeo hath expected Juliet;

And thou art come.

Jul. I am (if I be day)

Come to my fun; fhine forth, and make me fair.
Rom. All beauteous fairnefs dwelleth in thine eyes.
Jul. Romeo, from thine all brightnefs doth arife.

Friar. Come, wantons, come, the ftealing hours do pafs
Defer embracements to fome fitter time:

Part for a time, "you shall not be alone,

"Till holy church hath join'd you both in one.”
Rom. Lead, holy father, all delay feems long.

Jul. Make hafte, make hafte, this ling'ring doth us wrong.
Friar. O, foft and fair makes fweeteft work, they say;
Hafte is a common hind'rer in cross-way.

[Exeunt. STEEVENS.

8Thefe violent delights bave violent ends,] So, in our authour's Rape of Lucrece:

"Thefe violent vanities can never laft." MALONE.

9 Too fwift arrives-] He that travels too faft is as long before he comes to the end of his journey, as he that travels flow. Precipitation produces mishap. JOHNSON.

Enter

Enter JULIET.

Here comes the lady :-O, fo light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlafting flint:
A lover may bestride the goflamours
That idle in the wanton fummer air,
And yet not fall; fo light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghoftly confeffor.

Fri. Romeo thall thank thee, daughter, for us both. Jul. As much to him, elfe are his thanks too much. Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then fweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich mufick's tongue Unfold the imagin'd happinefs that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his fubftance, not of ornament:

They are but beggars that can count their worth +;"
But my true love is grown to fuch excefs,

Here comes the lady: &c.] However the poet might think the alte ration of this fcene on the whole to be neceflary, I am afraid, in refpect of the paffage before us, he has not been very fuccessful. The violent hyperbole of never wearing out the everlasting flint appears to me not only more reprehenfible, but even lefs beautiful than the lines as they were originally written, where the lightness of Juliet's motion is accounted for from the cheerful effects the paflion of love produced in her mind.. STEEVENS.

2 A lover may beftride the goffamours-] The Gofamer is the long white filament which flies in the air in fummer. So, in Hannibal and Scipio, 1637, by Nabbes:

Fine as Arachne's web, or gofamer,

"Whose curls when garnish'd by their dreffing, fhew
"Like that fpun vapour when 'tis pearl'd with dew?"

STELVENS.

See Bullokar's English Expofitor, 1616: "Goffomor. Things that flye like cobwebs in the ayre." MALONE.

3 Conceit, more rich, &c.] Conceit here means imagination. So, in the Rape of Lucrece:

which the conceited painter drew so proud," &c.
MALONE.

See Vol. VI. p. 536, n. 8

4 They are but beggars that can count their worth;] So, in Much ado about Nothing: "I were but little happy, if I could fay how much." MALONS.

I cannot

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