diff --git a/.github/workflows/deploy.yml b/.github/workflows/deploy.yml
index b722642..ea9c3dd 100644
--- a/.github/workflows/deploy.yml
+++ b/.github/workflows/deploy.yml
@@ -23,7 +23,7 @@ jobs:
python -m pip install -r requirements.txt
- name: Build the JupyterLite site
run: |
- jupyter lite build --contents notebooks --output-dir dist
+ jupyter lite build
- name: Upload artifact
uses: actions/upload-pages-artifact@v3
with:
diff --git a/.gitignore b/.gitignore
index 5ab57bc..3063124 100644
--- a/.gitignore
+++ b/.gitignore
@@ -161,6 +161,8 @@ cython_debug/
# option (not recommended) you can uncomment the following to ignore the entire idea folder.
#.idea/
+LOCAL.md
+
# jupyterlite
*.doit.db
_output
diff --git a/.pre-commit-config.yaml b/.pre-commit-config.yaml
index 79817e1..71237c2 100644
--- a/.pre-commit-config.yaml
+++ b/.pre-commit-config.yaml
@@ -25,6 +25,12 @@ repos:
- id: end-of-file-fixer
- id: trailing-whitespace
# - id: requirements-txt-fixer
+ - id: check-json
+ - id: pretty-format-json
+ files: ^.*.json$
+ args:
+ - --autofix
+ - --no-sort-keys
- repo: https://github.com/adrienverge/yamllint.git
rev: v1.35.1
hooks:
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
index f9f1372..5320c39 100644
--- a/README.md
+++ b/README.md
@@ -43,6 +43,6 @@ Or run JupyterLite server:
```sh
# https://jupyterlite.readthedocs.io/en/stable/quickstart/standalone.html
-jupyter lite build --contents notebooks
-jupyter lite serve
+jupyter lite build
+jupyter lite serve --port 8889
```
diff --git a/jupyter-lite.json b/jupyter-lite.json
index 305291e..a3da7d6 100644
--- a/jupyter-lite.json
+++ b/jupyter-lite.json
@@ -1,16 +1,13 @@
{
- "description": "The jupyter-lite.json file is used to configure the runtime configuration of JupyterLite.",
- "jupyter-lite-schema-version": 0,
- "jupyter-config-data": {
- "appName": "analyse-caesar-cipher",
- "disabledExtensions": [
- "@jupyterlab/drawio-extension",
- "jupyterlab-kernel-spy",
- "jupyterlab-tour"
- ],
- "settingsStorageName": "jupyterlite-analyse-caesar-cipher-storage",
- "LiteBuildConfig": {
- "ignore_sys_prefix": ["federated_extensions"]
- }
- }
+ "description": "The jupyter-lite.json file is used to configure the runtime configuration of JupyterLite.",
+ "jupyter-lite-schema-version": 0,
+ "jupyter-config-data": {
+ "appName": "analyse-caesar-cipher",
+ "disabledExtensions": [
+ "@jupyterlab/drawio-extension",
+ "jupyterlab-kernel-spy",
+ "jupyterlab-tour"
+ ],
+ "settingsStorageName": "jupyterlite-analyse-caesar-cipher-storage"
}
+}
diff --git a/jupyter_lite_config.json b/jupyter_lite_config.json
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0eb21bd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/jupyter_lite_config.json
@@ -0,0 +1,9 @@
+{
+ "description": "This file is used to configure the build time configuration of JupyterLite.",
+ "LiteBuildConfig": {
+ "contents": [
+ "notebooks"
+ ],
+ "output_dir": "dist"
+ }
+}
diff --git a/notebooks/analyse_caesar_cipher.ipynb b/notebooks/analyse_caesar_cipher.ipynb
index 806577f..5bd9ccd 100644
--- a/notebooks/analyse_caesar_cipher.ipynb
+++ b/notebooks/analyse_caesar_cipher.ipynb
@@ -135,30 +135,20 @@
"metadata": {},
"outputs": [],
"source": [
- "from urllib.request import urlopen\n",
- "\n",
- "# from collections import Counter\n",
"import matplotlib.pyplot as plt\n",
"\n",
- "# def calculate_letter_frequency(text: str) -> dict:\n",
- "# letter_freq: dict = {}\n",
- "# text = text.lower()\n",
- "# total_count = 0\n",
- "# for char in text:\n",
- "# if char in ascii_lowercase and char not in letter_freq:\n",
- "# letter_freq[char] = text.count(char)\n",
- "# return letter_freq\n",
- "\n",
"\n",
"def calculate_letter_frequency(text: str) -> dict:\n",
" letter_freq: dict = {}\n",
" text = text.lower()\n",
" total_count = 0\n",
" for char in text:\n",
- " if char in ascii_lowercase:\n",
+ " if char in ALPHABET:\n",
" total_count += 1\n",
" if char not in letter_freq:\n",
- " letter_freq[char] = text.count(char)\n",
+ " letter_freq[char] = 1\n",
+ " else:\n",
+ " letter_freq[char] += 1\n",
" for l, f in letter_freq.items():\n",
" letter_freq[l] = f * 100 / total_count\n",
" return letter_freq\n",
@@ -173,22 +163,27 @@
" plt.xlabel(\"Characters\")\n",
" plt.ylabel(\"Frequency %\")\n",
" plt.title(title)\n",
- " plt.show()\n",
- "\n",
- "\n",
- "url_hamlet = \"https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1787/pg1787.txt\"\n",
- "with urlopen(url_hamlet) as f:\n",
- " text = f.read().decode(\"utf-8\").strip()\n",
- " # print(Counter(text))\n",
+ " plt.show()"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": null,
+ "id": "d2b74dcd",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "# Exmaples with example data\n",
+ "with open(\"./data/hamlet.txt\") as f:\n",
+ " text = f.read().strip()\n",
" letter_freq = calculate_letter_frequency(text)\n",
- " print(letter_freq)\n",
+ " # print(letter_freq)\n",
" plot_histogram(letter_freq)\n",
"\n",
- "url_romeo_and_juliet = \"https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/47960/pg47960.txt\"\n",
- "with urlopen(url_romeo_and_juliet) as f:\n",
- " text = f.read().decode(\"utf-8\").strip()\n",
+ "with open(\"./data/romeo_and_juliet.txt\") as f:\n",
+ " text = f.read().strip()\n",
" letter_freq = calculate_letter_frequency(text)\n",
- " print(letter_freq)\n",
+ " # print(letter_freq)\n",
" plot_histogram(letter_freq)"
]
},
@@ -284,24 +279,45 @@
{
"cell_type": "code",
"execution_count": null,
- "id": "058099ed-d266-4ce1-80b1-17371492bedd",
+ "id": "ed08ebd7",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
+ "from IPython.display import HTML, display"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": null,
+ "id": "3e8ee124",
"metadata": {},
"outputs": [],
"source": [
"# Ex: Brvruja rmnjb jan dbnm rw vxmnaw mjcj-lxvyanbbrxw cnlqwrzdnb bdlq jb Qdoovjw lxmrwp.\n",
"# https://cryptii.com/pipes/caesar-cipher\n",
- "print(\"\")\n",
- "example_encrypted_text = input(\"Give me a cipher text to break:\")\n",
- "print(\"\")\n",
"\n",
+ "display(HTML(f\"Give me a cipher text to break: \"))\n",
+ "example_encrypted_text = input(\"\")\n",
+ "\n",
+ "# Workaround for Pyodide kernel, its `input` function returns PyodideFuture object.\n",
+ "if type(example_encrypted_text) != str:\n",
+ " example_encrypted_text = await example_encrypted_text"
+ ]
+ },
+ {
+ "cell_type": "code",
+ "execution_count": null,
+ "id": "058099ed-d266-4ce1-80b1-17371492bedd",
+ "metadata": {},
+ "outputs": [],
+ "source": [
"letter_freq = calculate_letter_frequency(example_encrypted_text)\n",
"plot_histogram(letter_freq, title=\"Frequency analysis of given encrypted text\")\n",
"plot_histogram(LETTER_FREQUENCY, title=\"Frequency analysis of English alphabet\")\n",
"\n",
"encryption_key = break_cipher(example_encrypted_text)\n",
- "print(\"\")\n",
"decrypted_text = decrypt(example_encrypted_text, encryption_key)\n",
- "print(f\"Decrypted text: {decrypted_text}\")"
+ "display(HTML(f\"
Decrypted text: {decrypted_text}\"))"
]
},
{
@@ -320,19 +336,20 @@
"outputs": [],
"source": [
"# example = \"My name is John.\"\n",
- "# print(example)\n",
+ "# print(f\"Plain text: {example}\")\n",
"# letter_freq = calculate_letter_frequency(example)\n",
"# plot_histogram(letter_freq)\n",
"\n",
"# encrypted_text = encrypt(example, 9)\n",
- "# print(encrypted_text)\n",
+ "# print(f\"Encrypted text: {encrypted_text}\")\n",
"# letter_freq = calculate_letter_frequency(encrypted_text)\n",
"# plot_histogram(letter_freq)\n",
"\n",
"# encryption_key = break_cipher(encrypted_text)\n",
- "# print(encryption_key)\n",
+ "# print(f\"Encryption key: {encryption_key}\")\n",
"\n",
- "# decrypt(encrypted_text, encryption_key)"
+ "# decrypted_text = decrypt(encrypted_text, encryption_key)\n",
+ "# display(HTML(f\"
Decrypted text: {decrypted_text}\"))"
]
},
{
@@ -346,8 +363,9 @@
"# # If he had anything confidential to say, he wrote it in cipher, that is, by so changing the order of the letters of the alphabet, that not a word could be made out.\n",
"# example = \"Vs ur unq nalguvat pbasvqragvny gb fnl, ur jebgr vg va pvcure, gung vf, ol fb punatvat gur beqre bs gur yrggref bs gur nycunorg, gung abg n jbeq pbhyq or znqr bhg.\"\n",
"# encryption_key = break_cipher(example)\n",
- "# print(encryption_key)\n",
- "# decrypt(example, encryption_key)"
+ "# print(f\"Encryption key: {encryption_key}\")\n",
+ "# decrypted_text = decrypt(example, encryption_key)\n",
+ "# display(HTML(f\"
Decrypted text: {decrypted_text}\"))"
]
},
{
diff --git a/notebooks/data/README.md b/notebooks/data/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..772d07e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/notebooks/data/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,4 @@
+```sh
+wget https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1787/pg1787.txt -O hamlet.txt
+wget https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/47960/pg47960.txt -O romeo_and_juliet.txt
+```
diff --git a/notebooks/data/hamlet.txt b/notebooks/data/hamlet.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..072dbe1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/notebooks/data/hamlet.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,5536 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hamlet
+
+This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
+at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
+you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
+before using this eBook.
+
+Title: Hamlet
+
+Author: William Shakespeare
+
+Release date: June 1, 1999 [eBook #1787]
+ Most recently updated: May 24, 2019
+
+Language: English
+
+
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAMLET ***
+This etext is a typo-corrected version of Shakespeare's Hamlet,
+Project Gutenberg file 1ws2610.txt.
+
+
+*******************************************************************
+THIS EBOOK WAS ONE OF PROJECT GUTENBERG'S EARLY FILES PRODUCED AT A
+TIME WHEN PROOFING METHODS AND TOOLS WERE NOT WELL DEVELOPED. THERE
+IS AN IMPROVED EDITION OF THIS TITLE WHICH MAY BE VIEWED AS EBOOK
+(#100) at https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/100
+*******************************************************************
+
+
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+
+*This Etext has certain copyright implications you should read!*
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+<>
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+The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
+The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
+
+June, 1999 [Etext #1787]
+
+
+The Library of the Future Complete Works of William Shakespeare
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+<>
+
+
+
+
+
+1604
+
+
+THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK
+
+
+by William Shakespeare
+
+
+
+Dramatis Personae
+
+ Claudius, King of Denmark.
+ Marcellus, Officer.
+ Hamlet, son to the former, and nephew to the present king.
+ Polonius, Lord Chamberlain.
+ Horatio, friend to Hamlet.
+ Laertes, son to Polonius.
+ Voltemand, courtier.
+ Cornelius, courtier.
+ Rosencrantz, courtier.
+ Guildenstern, courtier.
+ Osric, courtier.
+ A Gentleman, courtier.
+ A Priest.
+ Marcellus, officer.
+ Bernardo, officer.
+ Francisco, a soldier
+ Reynaldo, servant to Polonius.
+ Players.
+ Two Clowns, gravediggers.
+ Fortinbras, Prince of Norway.
+ A Norwegian Captain.
+ English Ambassadors.
+
+ Gertrude, Queen of Denmark, mother to Hamlet.
+ Ophelia, daughter to Polonius.
+
+ Ghost of Hamlet's Father.
+
+ Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers,
+Attendants.
+
+
+
+
+<>
+
+
+
+SCENE.- Elsinore.
+
+
+ACT I. Scene I.
+Elsinore. A platform before the Castle.
+
+Enter two Sentinels-[first,] Francisco, [who paces up and down
+at his post; then] Bernardo, [who approaches him].
+
+ Ber. Who's there?
+ Fran. Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself.
+ Ber. Long live the King!
+ Fran. Bernardo?
+ Ber. He.
+ Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour.
+ Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco.
+ Fran. For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold,
+ And I am sick at heart.
+ Ber. Have you had quiet guard?
+ Fran. Not a mouse stirring.
+ Ber. Well, good night.
+ If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
+ The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
+
+ Enter Horatio and Marcellus.
+
+ Fran. I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who is there?
+ Hor. Friends to this ground.
+ Mar. And liegemen to the Dane.
+ Fran. Give you good night.
+ Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier.
+ Who hath reliev'd you?
+ Fran. Bernardo hath my place.
+ Give you good night. Exit.
+ Mar. Holla, Bernardo!
+ Ber. Say-
+ What, is Horatio there ?
+ Hor. A piece of him.
+ Ber. Welcome, Horatio. Welcome, good Marcellus.
+ Mar. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?
+ Ber. I have seen nothing.
+ Mar. Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy,
+ And will not let belief take hold of him
+ Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us.
+ Therefore I have entreated him along,
+ With us to watch the minutes of this night,
+ That, if again this apparition come,
+ He may approve our eyes and speak to it.
+ Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.
+ Ber. Sit down awhile,
+ And let us once again assail your ears,
+ That are so fortified against our story,
+ What we two nights have seen.
+ Hor. Well, sit we down,
+ And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
+ Ber. Last night of all,
+ When yond same star that's westward from the pole
+ Had made his course t' illume that part of heaven
+ Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
+ The bell then beating one-
+
+ Enter Ghost.
+
+ Mar. Peace! break thee off! Look where it comes again!
+ Ber. In the same figure, like the King that's dead.
+ Mar. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
+ Ber. Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio.
+ Hor. Most like. It harrows me with fear and wonder.
+ Ber. It would be spoke to.
+ Mar. Question it, Horatio.
+ Hor. What art thou that usurp'st this time of night
+ Together with that fair and warlike form
+ In which the majesty of buried Denmark
+ Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee speak!
+ Mar. It is offended.
+ Ber. See, it stalks away!
+ Hor. Stay! Speak, speak! I charge thee speak!
+ Exit Ghost.
+ Mar. 'Tis gone and will not answer.
+ Ber. How now, Horatio? You tremble and look pale.
+ Is not this something more than fantasy?
+ What think you on't?
+ Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe
+ Without the sensible and true avouch
+ Of mine own eyes.
+ Mar. Is it not like the King?
+ Hor. As thou art to thyself.
+ Such was the very armour he had on
+ When he th' ambitious Norway combated.
+ So frown'd he once when, in an angry parle,
+ He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.
+ 'Tis strange.
+ Mar. Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,
+ With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
+ Hor. In what particular thought to work I know not;
+ But, in the gross and scope of my opinion,
+ This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
+ Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me he that knows,
+ Why this same strict and most observant watch
+ So nightly toils the subject of the land,
+ And why such daily cast of brazen cannon
+ And foreign mart for implements of war;
+ Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
+ Does not divide the Sunday from the week.
+ What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
+ Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day?
+ Who is't that can inform me?
+ Hor. That can I.
+ At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
+ Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
+ Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
+ Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
+ Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet
+ (For so this side of our known world esteem'd him)
+ Did slay this Fortinbras; who, by a seal'd compact,
+ Well ratified by law and heraldry,
+ Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands
+ Which he stood seiz'd of, to the conqueror;
+ Against the which a moiety competent
+ Was gaged by our king; which had return'd
+ To the inheritance of Fortinbras,
+ Had he been vanquisher, as, by the same cov'nant
+ And carriage of the article design'd,
+ His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
+ Of unimproved mettle hot and full,
+ Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there,
+ Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes,
+ For food and diet, to some enterprise
+ That hath a stomach in't; which is no other,
+ As it doth well appear unto our state,
+ But to recover of us, by strong hand
+ And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands
+ So by his father lost; and this, I take it,
+ Is the main motive of our preparations,
+ The source of this our watch, and the chief head
+ Of this post-haste and romage in the land.
+ Ber. I think it be no other but e'en so.
+ Well may it sort that this portentous figure
+ Comes armed through our watch, so like the King
+ That was and is the question of these wars.
+ Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
+ In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
+ A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
+ The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
+ Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;
+ As stars with trains of fire, and dews of blood,
+ Disasters in the sun; and the moist star
+ Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
+ Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.
+ And even the like precurse of fierce events,
+ As harbingers preceding still the fates
+ And prologue to the omen coming on,
+ Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
+ Unto our climature and countrymen.
+
+ Enter Ghost again.
+
+ But soft! behold! Lo, where it comes again!
+ I'll cross it, though it blast me.- Stay illusion!
+ Spreads his arms.
+ If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
+ Speak to me.
+ If there be any good thing to be done,
+ That may to thee do ease, and, race to me,
+ Speak to me.
+ If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
+ Which happily foreknowing may avoid,
+ O, speak!
+ Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
+ Extorted treasure in the womb of earth
+ (For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death),
+ The cock crows.
+ Speak of it! Stay, and speak!- Stop it, Marcellus!
+ Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan?
+ Hor. Do, if it will not stand.
+ Ber. 'Tis here!
+ Hor. 'Tis here!
+ Mar. 'Tis gone!
+ Exit Ghost.
+ We do it wrong, being so majestical,
+ To offer it the show of violence;
+ For it is as the air, invulnerable,
+ And our vain blows malicious mockery.
+ Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
+ Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing
+ Upon a fearful summons. I have heard
+ The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
+ Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
+ Awake the god of day; and at his warning,
+ Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
+ Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies
+ To his confine; and of the truth herein
+ This present object made probation.
+ Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock.
+ Some say that ever, 'gainst that season comes
+ Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
+ The bird of dawning singeth all night long;
+ And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,
+ The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
+ No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
+ So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
+ Hor. So have I heard and do in part believe it.
+ But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
+ Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill.
+ Break we our watch up; and by my advice
+ Let us impart what we have seen to-night
+ Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
+ This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
+ Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
+ As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
+ Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
+ Where we shall find him most conveniently. Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+Scene II.
+Elsinore. A room of state in the Castle.
+
+Flourish. [Enter Claudius, King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen,
+Hamlet,
+Polonius, Laertes and his sister Ophelia, [Voltemand, Cornelius,]
+Lords Attendant.
+
+ King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
+ The memory be green, and that it us befitted
+ To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom
+ To be contracted in one brow of woe,
+ Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature
+ That we with wisest sorrow think on him
+ Together with remembrance of ourselves.
+ Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
+ Th' imperial jointress to this warlike state,
+ Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,
+ With an auspicious, and a dropping eye,
+ With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
+ In equal scale weighing delight and dole,
+ Taken to wife; nor have we herein barr'd
+ Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
+ With this affair along. For all, our thanks.
+ Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,
+ Holding a weak supposal of our worth,
+ Or thinking by our late dear brother's death
+ Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,
+ Colleagued with this dream of his advantage,
+ He hath not fail'd to pester us with message
+ Importing the surrender of those lands
+ Lost by his father, with all bands of law,
+ To our most valiant brother. So much for him.
+ Now for ourself and for this time of meeting.
+ Thus much the business is: we have here writ
+ To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,
+ Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears
+ Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress
+ His further gait herein, in that the levies,
+ The lists, and full proportions are all made
+ Out of his subject; and we here dispatch
+ You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand,
+ For bearers of this greeting to old Norway,
+ Giving to you no further personal power
+ To business with the King, more than the scope
+ Of these dilated articles allow. [Gives a paper.]
+ Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.
+ Cor., Volt. In that, and all things, will we show our duty.
+ King. We doubt it nothing. Heartily farewell.
+ Exeunt Voltemand and Cornelius.
+ And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
+ You told us of some suit. What is't, Laertes?
+ You cannot speak of reason to the Dane
+ And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes,
+ That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
+ The head is not more native to the heart,
+ The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
+ Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
+ What wouldst thou have, Laertes?
+ Laer. My dread lord,
+ Your leave and favour to return to France;
+ From whence though willingly I came to Denmark
+ To show my duty in your coronation,
+ Yet now I must confess, that duty done,
+ My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France
+ And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
+ King. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?
+ Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave
+ By laboursome petition, and at last
+ Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent.
+ I do beseech you give him leave to go.
+ King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes. Time be thine,
+ And thy best graces spend it at thy will!
+ But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son-
+ Ham. [aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind!
+ King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
+ Ham. Not so, my lord. I am too much i' th' sun.
+ Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,
+ And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
+ Do not for ever with thy vailed lids
+ Seek for thy noble father in the dust.
+ Thou know'st 'tis common. All that lives must die,
+ Passing through nature to eternity.
+ Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.
+ Queen. If it be,
+ Why seems it so particular with thee?
+ Ham. Seems, madam, Nay, it is. I know not 'seems.'
+ 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
+ Nor customary suits of solemn black,
+ Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
+ No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
+ Nor the dejected havior of the visage,
+ Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief,
+ 'That can denote me truly. These indeed seem,
+ For they are actions that a man might play;
+ But I have that within which passeth show-
+ These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
+ King. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
+ To give these mourning duties to your father;
+ But you must know, your father lost a father;
+ That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
+ In filial obligation for some term
+ To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever
+ In obstinate condolement is a course
+ Of impious stubbornness. 'Tis unmanly grief;
+ It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
+ A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,
+ An understanding simple and unschool'd;
+ For what we know must be, and is as common
+ As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
+ Why should we in our peevish opposition
+ Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,
+ A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
+ To reason most absurd, whose common theme
+ Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
+ From the first corse till he that died to-day,
+ 'This must be so.' We pray you throw to earth
+ This unprevailing woe, and think of us
+ As of a father; for let the world take note
+ You are the most immediate to our throne,
+ And with no less nobility of love
+ Than that which dearest father bears his son
+ Do I impart toward you. For your intent
+ In going back to school in Wittenberg,
+ It is most retrograde to our desire;
+ And we beseech you, bend you to remain
+ Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
+ Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
+ Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet.
+ I pray thee stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.
+ Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
+ King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply.
+ Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come.
+ This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
+ Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof,
+ No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day
+ But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,
+ And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again,
+ Respeaking earthly thunder. Come away.
+ Flourish. Exeunt all but Hamlet.
+ Ham. O that this too too solid flesh would melt,
+ Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
+ Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
+ His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
+ How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
+ Seem to me all the uses of this world!
+ Fie on't! ah, fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden
+ That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
+ Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
+ But two months dead! Nay, not so much, not two.
+ So excellent a king, that was to this
+ Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
+ That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
+ Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
+ Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
+ As if increase of appetite had grown
+ By what it fed on; and yet, within a month-
+ Let me not think on't! Frailty, thy name is woman!-
+ A little month, or ere those shoes were old
+ With which she followed my poor father's body
+ Like Niobe, all tears- why she, even she
+ (O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason
+ Would have mourn'd longer) married with my uncle;
+ My father's brother, but no more like my father
+ Than I to Hercules. Within a month,
+ Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
+ Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
+ She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
+ With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
+ It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
+ But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue!
+
+ Enter Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo.
+
+ Hor. Hail to your lordship!
+ Ham. I am glad to see you well.
+ Horatio!- or I do forget myself.
+ Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
+ Ham. Sir, my good friend- I'll change that name with you.
+ And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
+ Marcellus?
+ Mar. My good lord!
+ Ham. I am very glad to see you.- [To Bernardo] Good even, sir.-
+
+ But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?
+ Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
+ Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so,
+ Nor shall you do my ear that violence
+ To make it truster of your own report
+ Against yourself. I know you are no truant.
+ But what is your affair in Elsinore?
+ We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
+ Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
+ Ham. I prithee do not mock me, fellow student.
+ I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
+ Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.
+ Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats
+ Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
+ Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
+ Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
+ My father- methinks I see my father.
+ Hor. O, where, my lord?
+ Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.
+ Hor. I saw him once. He was a goodly king.
+ Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all.
+ I shall not look upon his like again.
+ Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
+ Ham. Saw? who?
+ Hor. My lord, the King your father.
+ Ham. The King my father?
+ Hor. Season your admiration for a while
+ With an attent ear, till I may deliver
+ Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
+ This marvel to you.
+ Ham. For God's love let me hear!
+ Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen
+ (Marcellus and Bernardo) on their watch
+ In the dead vast and middle of the night
+ Been thus encount'red. A figure like your father,
+ Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe,
+ Appears before them and with solemn march
+ Goes slow and stately by them. Thrice he walk'd
+ By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,
+ Within his truncheon's length; whilst they distill'd
+ Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
+ Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me
+ In dreadful secrecy impart they did,
+ And I with them the third night kept the watch;
+ Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
+ Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
+ The apparition comes. I knew your father.
+ These hands are not more like.
+ Ham. But where was this?
+ Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
+ Ham. Did you not speak to it?
+ Hor. My lord, I did;
+ But answer made it none. Yet once methought
+ It lifted up it head and did address
+ Itself to motion, like as it would speak;
+ But even then the morning cock crew loud,
+ And at the sound it shrunk in haste away
+ And vanish'd from our sight.
+ Ham. 'Tis very strange.
+ Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;
+ And we did think it writ down in our duty
+ To let you know of it.
+ Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs. But this troubles me.
+ Hold you the watch to-night?
+ Both [Mar. and Ber.] We do, my lord.
+ Ham. Arm'd, say you?
+ Both. Arm'd, my lord.
+ Ham. From top to toe?
+ Both. My lord, from head to foot.
+ Ham. Then saw you not his face?
+ Hor. O, yes, my lord! He wore his beaver up.
+ Ham. What, look'd he frowningly.
+ Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
+ Ham. Pale or red?
+ Hor. Nay, very pale.
+ Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you?
+ Hor. Most constantly.
+ Ham. I would I had been there.
+ Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.
+ Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?
+ Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
+ Both. Longer, longer.
+ Hor. Not when I saw't.
+ Ham. His beard was grizzled- no?
+ Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,
+ A sable silver'd.
+ Ham. I will watch to-night.
+ Perchance 'twill walk again.
+ Hor. I warr'nt it will.
+ Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
+ I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape
+ And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
+ If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
+ Let it be tenable in your silence still;
+ And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
+ Give it an understanding but no tongue.
+ I will requite your loves. So, fare you well.
+ Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
+ I'll visit you.
+ All. Our duty to your honour.
+ Ham. Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell.
+ Exeunt [all but Hamlet].
+ My father's spirit- in arms? All is not well.
+ I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come!
+ Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise,
+ Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
+Exit.
+
+
+
+
+Scene III.
+Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius.
+
+Enter Laertes and Ophelia.
+
+ Laer. My necessaries are embark'd. Farewell.
+ And, sister, as the winds give benefit
+ And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
+ But let me hear from you.
+ Oph. Do you doubt that?
+ Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
+ Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;
+ A violet in the youth of primy nature,
+ Forward, not permanent- sweet, not lasting;
+ The perfume and suppliance of a minute;
+ No more.
+ Oph. No more but so?
+ Laer. Think it no more.
+ For nature crescent does not grow alone
+ In thews and bulk; but as this temple waxes,
+ The inward service of the mind and soul
+ Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,
+ And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
+ The virtue of his will; but you must fear,
+ His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
+ For he himself is subject to his birth.
+ He may not, as unvalued persons do,
+ Carve for himself, for on his choice depends
+ The safety and health of this whole state,
+ And therefore must his choice be circumscrib'd
+ Unto the voice and yielding of that body
+ Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
+ It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
+ As he in his particular act and place
+ May give his saying deed; which is no further
+ Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
+ Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain
+ If with too credent ear you list his songs,
+ Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
+ To his unmast'red importunity.
+ Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
+ And keep you in the rear of your affection,
+ Out of the shot and danger of desire.
+ The chariest maid is prodigal enough
+ If she unmask her beauty to the moon.
+ Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes.
+ The canker galls the infants of the spring
+ Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd,
+ And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
+ Contagious blastments are most imminent.
+ Be wary then; best safety lies in fear.
+ Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
+ Oph. I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep
+ As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
+ Do not as some ungracious pastors do,
+ Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,
+ Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
+ Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads
+ And recks not his own rede.
+ Laer. O, fear me not!
+
+ Enter Polonius.
+
+ I stay too long. But here my father comes.
+ A double blessing is a double grace;
+ Occasion smiles upon a second leave.
+ Pol. Yet here, Laertes? Aboard, aboard, for shame!
+ The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
+ And you are stay'd for. There- my blessing with thee!
+ And these few precepts in thy memory
+ Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
+ Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
+ Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar:
+ Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
+ Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel;
+ But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
+ Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
+ Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,
+ Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.
+ Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;
+ Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
+ Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
+ But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
+ For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
+ And they in France of the best rank and station
+ Are most select and generous, chief in that.
+ Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
+ For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
+ And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
+ This above all- to thine own self be true,
+ And it must follow, as the night the day,
+ Thou canst not then be false to any man.
+ Farewell. My blessing season this in thee!
+ Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
+ Pol. The time invites you. Go, your servants tend.
+ Laer. Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well
+ What I have said to you.
+ Oph. 'Tis in my memory lock'd,
+ And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
+ Laer. Farewell. Exit.
+ Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you?
+ Oph. So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.
+ Pol. Marry, well bethought!
+ 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late
+ Given private time to you, and you yourself
+ Have of your audience been most free and bounteous.
+ If it be so- as so 'tis put on me,
+ And that in way of caution- I must tell you
+ You do not understand yourself so clearly
+ As it behooves my daughter and your honour.
+ What is between you? Give me up the truth.
+ Oph. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
+ Of his affection to me.
+ Pol. Affection? Pooh! You speak like a green girl,
+ Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
+ Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?
+ Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think,
+ Pol. Marry, I will teach you! Think yourself a baby
+ That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
+ Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly,
+ Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
+ Running it thus) you'll tender me a fool.
+ Oph. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love
+ In honourable fashion.
+ Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it. Go to, go to!
+ Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
+ With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
+ Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks! I do know,
+ When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
+ Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, daughter,
+ Giving more light than heat, extinct in both
+ Even in their promise, as it is a-making,
+ You must not take for fire. From this time
+ Be something scanter of your maiden presence.
+ Set your entreatments at a higher rate
+ Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
+ Believe so much in him, that he is young,
+ And with a larger tether may he walk
+ Than may be given you. In few, Ophelia,
+ Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,
+ Not of that dye which their investments show,
+ But mere implorators of unholy suits,
+ Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds,
+ The better to beguile. This is for all:
+ I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth
+ Have you so slander any moment leisure
+ As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
+ Look to't, I charge you. Come your ways.
+ Oph. I shall obey, my lord.
+ Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+Scene IV.
+Elsinore. The platform before the Castle.
+
+Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.
+
+ Ham. The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.
+ Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air.
+ Ham. What hour now?
+ Hor. I think it lacks of twelve.
+ Mar. No, it is struck.
+ Hor. Indeed? I heard it not. It then draws near the season
+ Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.
+ A flourish of trumpets, and two pieces go off.
+ What does this mean, my lord?
+ Ham. The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse,
+ Keeps wassail, and the swagg'ring upspring reels,
+ And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
+ The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out
+ The triumph of his pledge.
+ Hor. Is it a custom?
+ Ham. Ay, marry, is't;
+ But to my mind, though I am native here
+ And to the manner born, it is a custom
+ More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
+ This heavy-headed revel east and west
+ Makes us traduc'd and tax'd of other nations;
+ They clip us drunkards and with swinish phrase
+ Soil our addition; and indeed it takes
+ From our achievements, though perform'd at height,
+ The pith and marrow of our attribute.
+ So oft it chances in particular men
+ That, for some vicious mole of nature in them,
+ As in their birth,- wherein they are not guilty,
+ Since nature cannot choose his origin,-
+ By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,
+ Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,
+ Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens
+ The form of plausive manners, that these men
+ Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
+ Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,
+ Their virtues else- be they as pure as grace,
+ As infinite as man may undergo-
+ Shall in the general censure take corruption
+ From that particular fault. The dram of e'il
+ Doth all the noble substance often dout To his own scandal.
+
+ Enter Ghost.
+
+ Hor. Look, my lord, it comes!
+ Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
+ Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd,
+ Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
+ Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
+ Thou com'st in such a questionable shape
+ That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet,
+ King, father, royal Dane. O, answer me?
+ Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell
+ Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
+ Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre
+ Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
+ Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws
+ To cast thee up again. What may this mean
+ That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel,
+ Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon,
+ Making night hideous, and we fools of nature
+ So horridly to shake our disposition
+ With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
+ Say, why is this? wherefore? What should we do?
+ Ghost beckons Hamlet.
+ Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,
+ As if it some impartment did desire
+ To you alone.
+ Mar. Look with what courteous action
+ It waves you to a more removed ground.
+ But do not go with it!
+ Hor. No, by no means!
+ Ham. It will not speak. Then will I follow it.
+ Hor. Do not, my lord!
+ Ham. Why, what should be the fear?
+ I do not set my life at a pin's fee;
+ And for my soul, what can it do to that,
+ Being a thing immortal as itself?
+ It waves me forth again. I'll follow it.
+ Hor. What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,
+ Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff
+ That beetles o'er his base into the sea,
+ And there assume some other, horrible form
+ Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason
+ And draw you into madness? Think of it.
+ The very place puts toys of desperation,
+ Without more motive, into every brain
+ That looks so many fadoms to the sea
+ And hears it roar beneath.
+ Ham. It waves me still.
+ Go on. I'll follow thee.
+ Mar. You shall not go, my lord.
+ Ham. Hold off your hands!
+ Hor. Be rul'd. You shall not go.
+ Ham. My fate cries out
+ And makes each petty artire in this body
+ As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.
+ [Ghost beckons.]
+
+ Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen.
+ By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!-
+ I say, away!- Go on. I'll follow thee.
+ Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet.
+ Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination.
+ Mar. Let's follow. 'Tis not fit thus to obey him.
+ Hor. Have after. To what issue will this come?
+ Mar. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
+ Hor. Heaven will direct it.
+ Mar. Nay, let's follow him.
+ Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+Scene V.
+Elsinore. The Castle. Another part of the fortifications.
+
+Enter Ghost and Hamlet.
+
+ Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak! I'll go no further.
+ Ghost. Mark me.
+ Ham. I will.
+ Ghost. My hour is almost come,
+ When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames
+ Must render up myself.
+ Ham. Alas, poor ghost!
+ Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
+ To what I shall unfold.
+ Ham. Speak. I am bound to hear.
+ Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
+ Ham. What?
+ Ghost. I am thy father's spirit,
+ Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
+ And for the day confin'd to fast in fires,
+ Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
+ Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid
+ To tell the secrets of my prison house,
+ I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
+ Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
+ Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
+ Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
+ And each particular hair to stand on end
+ Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
+ But this eternal blazon must not be
+ To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
+ If thou didst ever thy dear father love-
+ Ham. O God!
+ Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murther.
+ Ham. Murther?
+ Ghost. Murther most foul, as in the best it is;
+ But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
+ Ham. Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
+ As meditation or the thoughts of love,
+ May sweep to my revenge.
+ Ghost. I find thee apt;
+ And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
+ That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
+ Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear.
+ 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,
+ A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark
+ Is by a forged process of my death
+ Rankly abus'd. But know, thou noble youth,
+ The serpent that did sting thy father's life
+ Now wears his crown.
+ Ham. O my prophetic soul!
+ My uncle?
+ Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
+ With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts-
+ O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power
+ So to seduce!- won to his shameful lust
+ The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen.
+ O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there,
+ From me, whose love was of that dignity
+ That it went hand in hand even with the vow
+ I made to her in marriage, and to decline
+ Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor
+ To those of mine!
+ But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,
+ Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,
+ So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
+ Will sate itself in a celestial bed
+ And prey on garbage.
+ But soft! methinks I scent the morning air.
+ Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,
+ My custom always of the afternoon,
+ Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
+ With juice of cursed hebona in a vial,
+ And in the porches of my ears did pour
+ The leperous distilment; whose effect
+ Holds such an enmity with blood of man
+ That swift as quicksilver it courses through
+ The natural gates and alleys of the body,
+ And with a sudden vigour it doth posset
+ And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
+ The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine;
+ And a most instant tetter bark'd about,
+ Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust
+ All my smooth body.
+ Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand
+ Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd;
+ Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
+ Unhous'led, disappointed, unanel'd,
+ No reckoning made, but sent to my account
+ With all my imperfections on my head.
+ Ham. O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
+ Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not.
+ Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
+ A couch for luxury and damned incest.
+ But, howsoever thou pursuest this act,
+ Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
+ Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven,
+ And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge
+ To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once.
+ The glowworm shows the matin to be near
+ And gins to pale his uneffectual fire.
+ Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me. Exit.
+
+ Ham. O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else?
+ And shall I couple hell? Hold, hold, my heart!
+ And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
+ But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee?
+ Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
+ In this distracted globe. Remember thee?
+ Yea, from the table of my memory
+ I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
+ All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past
+ That youth and observation copied there,
+ And thy commandment all alone shall live
+ Within the book and volume of my brain,
+ Unmix'd with baser matter. Yes, by heaven!
+ O most pernicious woman!
+ O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
+ My tables! Meet it is I set it down
+ That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
+ At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. [Writes.]
+ So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word:
+ It is 'Adieu, adieu! Remember me.'
+ I have sworn't.
+ Hor. (within) My lord, my lord!
+
+ Enter Horatio and Marcellus.
+
+ Mar. Lord Hamlet!
+ Hor. Heaven secure him!
+ Ham. So be it!
+ Mar. Illo, ho, ho, my lord!
+ Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy! Come, bird, come.
+ Mar. How is't, my noble lord?
+ Hor. What news, my lord?
+ Mar. O, wonderful!
+ Hor. Good my lord, tell it.
+ Ham. No, you will reveal it.
+ Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven!
+ Mar. Nor I, my lord.
+ Ham. How say you then? Would heart of man once think it?
+ But you'll be secret?
+ Both. Ay, by heaven, my lord.
+ Ham. There's neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark
+ But he's an arrant knave.
+ Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
+ To tell us this.
+ Ham. Why, right! You are in the right!
+ And so, without more circumstance at all,
+ I hold it fit that we shake hands and part;
+ You, as your business and desires shall point you,
+ For every man hath business and desire,
+ Such as it is; and for my own poor part,
+ Look you, I'll go pray.
+ Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
+ Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily;
+ Yes, faith, heartily.
+ Hor. There's no offence, my lord.
+ Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio,
+ And much offence too. Touching this vision here,
+ It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you.
+ For your desire to know what is between us,
+ O'ermaster't as you may. And now, good friends,
+ As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
+ Give me one poor request.
+ Hor. What is't, my lord? We will.
+ Ham. Never make known what you have seen to-night.
+ Both. My lord, we will not.
+ Ham. Nay, but swear't.
+ Hor. In faith,
+ My lord, not I.
+ Mar. Nor I, my lord- in faith.
+ Ham. Upon my sword.
+ Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already.
+ Ham. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.
+
+ Ghost cries under the stage.
+
+ Ghost. Swear.
+ Ham. Aha boy, say'st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny?
+ Come on! You hear this fellow in the cellarage.
+ Consent to swear.
+ Hor. Propose the oath, my lord.
+ Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen.
+ Swear by my sword.
+ Ghost. [beneath] Swear.
+ Ham. Hic et ubique? Then we'll shift our ground.
+ Come hither, gentlemen,
+ And lay your hands again upon my sword.
+ Never to speak of this that you have heard:
+ Swear by my sword.
+ Ghost. [beneath] Swear by his sword.
+ Ham. Well said, old mole! Canst work i' th' earth so fast?
+ A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends."
+ Hor. O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!
+ Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
+ There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
+ Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
+ But come!
+ Here, as before, never, so help you mercy,
+ How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself
+ (As I perchance hereafter shall think meet
+ To put an antic disposition on),
+ That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,
+ With arms encumb'red thus, or this head-shake,
+ Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
+ As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,'
+ Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,'
+ Or such ambiguous giving out, to note
+ That you know aught of me- this is not to do,
+ So grace and mercy at your most need help you,
+ Swear.
+ Ghost. [beneath] Swear.
+ [They swear.]
+ Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gentlemen,
+ With all my love I do commend me to you;
+ And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
+ May do t' express his love and friending to you,
+ God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;
+ And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
+ The time is out of joint. O cursed spite
+ That ever I was born to set it right!
+ Nay, come, let's go together.
+ Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+<>
+
+
+
+Act II. Scene I.
+Elsinore. A room in the house of Polonius.
+
+Enter Polonius and Reynaldo.
+
+ Pol. Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.
+ Rey. I will, my lord.
+ Pol. You shall do marvell's wisely, good Reynaldo,
+ Before You visit him, to make inquire
+ Of his behaviour.
+ Rey. My lord, I did intend it.
+ Pol. Marry, well said, very well said. Look you, sir,
+ Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;
+ And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,
+ What company, at what expense; and finding
+ By this encompassment and drift of question
+ That they do know my son, come you more nearer
+ Than your particular demands will touch it.
+ Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him;
+ As thus, 'I know his father and his friends,
+ And in part him.' Do you mark this, Reynaldo?
+ Rey. Ay, very well, my lord.
+ Pol. 'And in part him, but,' you may say, 'not well.
+ But if't be he I mean, he's very wild
+ Addicted so and so'; and there put on him
+ What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank
+ As may dishonour him- take heed of that;
+ But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips
+ As are companions noted and most known
+ To youth and liberty.
+ Rey. As gaming, my lord.
+ Pol. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling,
+ Drabbing. You may go so far.
+ Rey. My lord, that would dishonour him.
+ Pol. Faith, no, as you may season it in the charge.
+ You must not put another scandal on him,
+ That he is open to incontinency.
+ That's not my meaning. But breathe his faults so quaintly
+ That they may seem the taints of liberty,
+ The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind,
+ A savageness in unreclaimed blood,
+ Of general assault.
+ Rey. But, my good lord-
+ Pol. Wherefore should you do this?
+ Rey. Ay, my lord,
+ I would know that.
+ Pol. Marry, sir, here's my drift,
+ And I believe it is a fetch of warrant.
+ You laying these slight sullies on my son
+ As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' th' working,
+ Mark you,
+ Your party in converse, him you would sound,
+ Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes
+ The youth you breathe of guilty, be assur'd
+ He closes with you in this consequence:
+ 'Good sir,' or so, or 'friend,' or 'gentleman'-
+ According to the phrase or the addition
+ Of man and country-
+ Rey. Very good, my lord.
+ Pol. And then, sir, does 'a this- 'a does- What was I about to
+say?
+ By the mass, I was about to say something! Where did I leave?
+ Rey. At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,' and
+ gentleman.'
+ Pol. At 'closes in the consequence'- Ay, marry!
+ He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman.
+ I saw him yesterday, or t'other day,
+ Or then, or then, with such or such; and, as you say,
+ There was 'a gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse;
+ There falling out at tennis'; or perchance,
+ 'I saw him enter such a house of sale,'
+ Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth.
+ See you now-
+ Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth;
+ And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
+ With windlasses and with assays of bias,
+ By indirections find directions out.
+ So, by my former lecture and advice,
+ Shall you my son. You have me, have you not?
+ Rey. My lord, I have.
+ Pol. God b' wi' ye, fare ye well!
+ Rey. Good my lord! [Going.]
+ Pol. Observe his inclination in yourself.
+ Rey. I shall, my lord.
+ Pol. And let him ply his music.
+ Rey. Well, my lord.
+ Pol. Farewell!
+ Exit Reynaldo.
+
+ Enter Ophelia.
+
+ How now, Ophelia? What's the matter?
+ Oph. O my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!
+ Pol. With what, i' th' name of God?
+ Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
+ Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd,
+ No hat upon his head, his stockings foul'd,
+ Ungart'red, and down-gyved to his ankle;
+ Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other,
+ And with a look so piteous in purport
+ As if he had been loosed out of hell
+ To speak of horrors- he comes before me.
+ Pol. Mad for thy love?
+ Oph. My lord, I do not know,
+ But truly I do fear it.
+ Pol. What said he?
+ Oph. He took me by the wrist and held me hard;
+ Then goes he to the length of all his arm,
+ And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
+ He falls to such perusal of my face
+ As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so.
+ At last, a little shaking of mine arm,
+ And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
+ He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound
+ As it did seem to shatter all his bulk
+ And end his being. That done, he lets me go,
+ And with his head over his shoulder turn'd
+ He seem'd to find his way without his eyes,
+ For out o' doors he went without their help
+ And to the last bended their light on me.
+ Pol. Come, go with me. I will go seek the King.
+ This is the very ecstasy of love,
+ Whose violent property fordoes itself
+ And leads the will to desperate undertakings
+ As oft as any passion under heaven
+ That does afflict our natures. I am sorry.
+ What, have you given him any hard words of late?
+ Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did command,
+ I did repel his letters and denied
+ His access to me.
+ Pol. That hath made him mad.
+ I am sorry that with better heed and judgment
+ I had not quoted him. I fear'd he did but trifle
+ And meant to wrack thee; but beshrew my jealousy!
+ By heaven, it is as proper to our age
+ To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions
+ As it is common for the younger sort
+ To lack discretion. Come, go we to the King.
+ This must be known; which, being kept close, might move
+ More grief to hide than hate to utter love.
+ Come.
+ Exeunt.
+
+Scene II.
+Elsinore. A room in the Castle.
+
+Flourish. [Enter King and Queen, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,
+cum aliis.
+
+ King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
+ Moreover that we much did long to see you,
+ The need we have to use you did provoke
+ Our hasty sending. Something have you heard
+ Of Hamlet's transformation. So I call it,
+ Sith nor th' exterior nor the inward man
+ Resembles that it was. What it should be,
+ More than his father's death, that thus hath put him
+ So much from th' understanding of himself,
+ I cannot dream of. I entreat you both
+ That, being of so young days brought up with him,
+ And since so neighbour'd to his youth and haviour,
+ That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
+ Some little time; so by your companies
+ To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather
+ So much as from occasion you may glean,
+ Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus
+ That, open'd, lies within our remedy.
+ Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you,
+ And sure I am two men there are not living
+ To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
+ To show us so much gentry and good will
+ As to expend your time with us awhile
+ For the supply and profit of our hope,
+ Your visitation shall receive such thanks
+ As fits a king's remembrance.
+ Ros. Both your Majesties
+ Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,
+ Put your dread pleasures more into command
+ Than to entreaty.
+ Guil. But we both obey,
+ And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,
+ To lay our service freely at your feet,
+ To be commanded.
+ King. Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.
+ Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz.
+ And I beseech you instantly to visit
+ My too much changed son.- Go, some of you,
+ And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.
+ Guil. Heavens make our presence and our practices
+ Pleasant and helpful to him!
+ Queen. Ay, amen!
+ Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, [with some
+ Attendants].
+
+ Enter Polonius.
+
+ Pol. Th' ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,
+ Are joyfully return'd.
+ King. Thou still hast been the father of good news.
+ Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege,
+ I hold my duty as I hold my soul,
+ Both to my God and to my gracious king;
+ And I do think- or else this brain of mine
+ Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
+ As it hath us'd to do- that I have found
+ The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
+ King. O, speak of that! That do I long to hear.
+ Pol. Give first admittance to th' ambassadors.
+ My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.
+ King. Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.
+ [Exit Polonius.]
+ He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found
+ The head and source of all your son's distemper.
+ Queen. I doubt it is no other but the main,
+ His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage.
+ King. Well, we shall sift him.
+
+ Enter Polonius, Voltemand, and Cornelius.
+
+ Welcome, my good friends.
+ Say, Voltemand, what from our brother Norway?
+ Volt. Most fair return of greetings and desires.
+ Upon our first, he sent out to suppress
+ His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd
+ To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack,
+ But better look'd into, he truly found
+ It was against your Highness; whereat griev'd,
+ That so his sickness, age, and impotence
+ Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests
+ On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys,
+ Receives rebuke from Norway, and, in fine,
+ Makes vow before his uncle never more
+ To give th' assay of arms against your Majesty.
+ Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,
+ Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee
+ And his commission to employ those soldiers,
+ So levied as before, against the Polack;
+ With an entreaty, herein further shown,
+ [Gives a paper.]
+ That it might please you to give quiet pass
+ Through your dominions for this enterprise,
+ On such regards of safety and allowance
+ As therein are set down.
+ King. It likes us well;
+ And at our more consider'd time we'll read,
+ Answer, and think upon this business.
+ Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour.
+ Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together.
+ Most welcome home! Exeunt Ambassadors.
+ Pol. This business is well ended.
+ My liege, and madam, to expostulate
+ What majesty should be, what duty is,
+ Why day is day, night is night, and time is time.
+ Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.
+ Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
+ And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
+ I will be brief. Your noble son is mad.
+ Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,
+ What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
+ But let that go.
+ Queen. More matter, with less art.
+ Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
+ That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity;
+ And pity 'tis 'tis true. A foolish figure!
+ But farewell it, for I will use no art.
+ Mad let us grant him then. And now remains
+ That we find out the cause of this effect-
+ Or rather say, the cause of this defect,
+ For this effect defective comes by cause.
+ Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
+ Perpend.
+ I have a daughter (have while she is mine),
+ Who in her duty and obedience, mark,
+ Hath given me this. Now gather, and surmise.
+ [Reads] the letter.
+ 'To the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified
+ Ophelia,'-
+
+ That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is a vile
+ phrase.
+ But you shall hear. Thus:
+ [Reads.]
+ 'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.'
+ Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her?
+ Pol. Good madam, stay awhile. I will be faithful. [Reads.]
+
+
+ 'Doubt thou the stars are fire;
+ Doubt that the sun doth move;
+ Doubt truth to be a liar;
+ But never doubt I love.
+ 'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art
+to
+ reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, O most best,
+believe
+ it. Adieu.
+ 'Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to
+him,
+
+HAMLET.'
+
+ This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me;
+ And more above, hath his solicitings,
+ As they fell out by time, by means, and place,
+ All given to mine ear.
+ King. But how hath she
+ Receiv'd his love?
+ Pol. What do you think of me?
+ King. As of a man faithful and honourable.
+ Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think,
+ When I had seen this hot love on the wing
+ (As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that,
+ Before my daughter told me), what might you,
+ Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think,
+ If I had play'd the desk or table book,
+ Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,
+ Or look'd upon this love with idle sight?
+ What might you think? No, I went round to work
+ And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:
+ 'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star.
+ This must not be.' And then I prescripts gave her,
+ That she should lock herself from his resort,
+ Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
+ Which done, she took the fruits of my advice,
+ And he, repulsed, a short tale to make,
+ Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,
+ Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,
+ Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension,
+ Into the madness wherein now he raves,
+ And all we mourn for.
+ King. Do you think 'tis this?
+ Queen. it may be, very like.
+ Pol. Hath there been such a time- I would fain know that-
+ That I have Positively said ''Tis so,'
+ When it prov'd otherwise.?
+ King. Not that I know.
+ Pol. [points to his head and shoulder] Take this from this, if
+this
+ be otherwise.
+ If circumstances lead me, I will find
+ Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
+ Within the centre.
+ King. How may we try it further?
+ Pol. You know sometimes he walks for hours together
+ Here in the lobby.
+ Queen. So he does indeed.
+ Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him.
+ Be you and I behind an arras then.
+ Mark the encounter. If he love her not,
+ And he not from his reason fall'n thereon
+ Let me be no assistant for a state,
+ But keep a farm and carters.
+ King. We will try it.
+
+ Enter Hamlet, reading on a book.
+
+ Queen. But look where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.
+ Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away
+ I'll board him presently. O, give me leave.
+ Exeunt King and Queen, [with Attendants].
+ How does my good Lord Hamlet?
+ Ham. Well, God-a-mercy.
+ Pol. Do you know me, my lord?
+ Ham. Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.
+ Pol. Not I, my lord.
+ Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man.
+ Pol. Honest, my lord?
+ Ham. Ay, sir. To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one
+man
+ pick'd out of ten thousand.
+ Pol. That's very true, my lord.
+ Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god
+ kissing carrion- Have you a daughter?
+ Pol. I have, my lord.
+ Ham. Let her not walk i' th' sun. Conception is a blessing, but
+not
+ as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't.
+ Pol. [aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter.
+Yet
+ he knew me not at first. He said I was a fishmonger. He is
+far
+ gone, far gone! And truly in my youth I suff'red much
+extremity
+ for love- very near this. I'll speak to him again.- What do
+you
+ read, my lord?
+ Ham. Words, words, words.
+ Pol. What is the matter, my lord?
+ Ham. Between who?
+ Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
+ Ham. Slanders, sir; for the satirical rogue says here that old
+men
+ have grey beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes
+ purging thick amber and plum-tree gum; and that they have a
+ plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams. All
+which,
+ sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I
+hold it
+ not honesty to have it thus set down; for you yourself, sir,
+ should be old as I am if, like a crab, you could go backward.
+
+ Pol. [aside] Though this be madness, yet there is a method
+in't.-
+ Will You walk out of the air, my lord?
+ Ham. Into my grave?
+ Pol. Indeed, that is out o' th' air. [Aside] How pregnant
+sometimes
+ his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on,
+which
+ reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of.
+I
+ will leave him and suddenly contrive the means of meeting
+between
+ him and my daughter.- My honourable lord, I will most humbly
+take
+ my leave of you.
+ Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more
+ willingly part withal- except my life, except my life, except
+my
+ life,
+
+ Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
+
+ Pol. Fare you well, my lord.
+ Ham. These tedious old fools!
+ Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet. There he is.
+ Ros. [to Polonius] God save you, sir!
+ Exit [Polonius].
+
+ Guil. My honour'd lord!
+ Ros. My most dear lord!
+ Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern?
+Ah,
+ Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?
+ Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth.
+ Guil. Happy in that we are not over-happy.
+ On Fortune's cap we are not the very button.
+ Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe?
+ Ros. Neither, my lord.
+ Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her
+ favours?
+ Guil. Faith, her privates we.
+ Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? O! most true! she is a
+ strumpet. What news ?
+ Ros. None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.
+ Ham. Then is doomsday near! But your news is not true. Let me
+ question more in particular. What have you, my good friends,
+ deserved at the hands of Fortune that she sends you to prison
+ hither?
+ Guil. Prison, my lord?
+ Ham. Denmark's a prison.
+ Ros. Then is the world one.
+ Ham. A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards, and
+ dungeons, Denmark being one o' th' worst.
+ Ros. We think not so, my lord.
+ Ham. Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either
+good
+ or bad but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison.
+ Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it one. 'Tis too narrow for
+your
+ mind.
+ Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a
+ king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
+ Guil. Which dreams indeed are ambition; for the very substance
+of
+ the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
+ Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow.
+ Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality
+that
+ it is but a shadow's shadow.
+ Ham. Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and
+outstretch'd
+ heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to th' court? for, by
+my
+ fay, I cannot reason.
+ Both. We'll wait upon you.
+ Ham. No such matter! I will not sort you with the rest of my
+ servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most
+ dreadfully attended. But in the beaten way of friendship,
+what
+ make you at Elsinore?
+ Ros. To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.
+ Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank
+you;
+ and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny.
+Were
+ you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free
+ visitation? Come, deal justly with me. Come, come! Nay,
+speak.
+ Guil. What should we say, my lord?
+ Ham. Why, anything- but to th' purpose. You were sent for; and
+ there is a kind of confession in your looks, which your
+modesties
+ have not craft enough to colour. I know the good King and
+Queen
+ have sent for you.
+ Ros. To what end, my lord?
+ Ham. That you must teach me. But let me conjure you by the
+rights
+ of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the
+ obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear
+a
+ better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct
+with
+ me, whether you were sent for or no.
+ Ros. [aside to Guildenstern] What say you?
+ Ham. [aside] Nay then, I have an eye of you.- If you love me,
+hold
+ not off.
+ Guil. My lord, we were sent for.
+ Ham. I will tell you why. So shall my anticipation prevent your
+ discovery, and your secrecy to the King and Queen moult no
+ feather. I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all
+my
+ mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes
+so
+ heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
+earth,
+ seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy,
+the
+ air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this
+majestical
+ roof fretted with golden fire- why, it appeareth no other
+thing
+ to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What
+a
+ piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in
+ faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in
+ action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the
+ beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And yet to me
+what
+ is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me- no, nor
+woman
+ neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
+ Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
+ Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said 'Man delights not me'?
+ Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten
+ entertainment the players shall receive from you. We coted
+them
+ on the way, and hither are they coming to offer you service.
+ Ham. He that plays the king shall be welcome- his Majesty shall
+ have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil
+and
+ target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humorous man
+shall
+ end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose
+ lungs are tickle o' th' sere; and the lady shall say her mind
+ freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't. What players are
+ they?
+ Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight in, the
+ tragedians of the city.
+ Ham. How chances it they travel? Their residence, both in
+ reputation and profit, was better both ways.
+ Ros. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late
+ innovation.
+ Ham. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in
+the
+ city? Are they so follow'd?
+ Ros. No indeed are they not.
+ Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rusty?
+ Ros. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; but there
+is,
+ sir, an eyrie of children, little eyases, that cry out on the
+top
+ of question and are most tyrannically clapp'd for't. These
+are now
+ the fashion, and so berattle the common stages (so they call
+ them) that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills and
+ dare scarce come thither.
+ Ham. What, are they children? Who maintains 'em? How are they
+ escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can
+ sing? Will they not say afterwards, if they should grow
+ themselves to common players (as it is most like, if their
+means
+ are no better), their writers do them wrong to make them
+exclaim
+ against their own succession.
+ Ros. Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the
+nation
+ holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy. There was, for
+a
+ while, no money bid for argument unless the poet and the
+player
+ went to cuffs in the question.
+ Ham. Is't possible?
+ Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains.
+ Ham. Do the boys carry it away?
+ Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord- Hercules and his load too.
+ Ham. It is not very strange; for my uncle is King of Denmark,
+and
+ those that would make mows at him while my father lived give
+ twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats apiece for his picture
+in
+ little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than
+natural, if
+ philosophy could find it out.
+
+ Flourish for the Players.
+
+ Guil. There are the players.
+ Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come!
+Th'
+ appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony. Let me
+comply
+ with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players (which I
+ tell you must show fairly outwards) should more appear like
+ entertainment than yours. You are welcome. But my
+uncle-father
+ and aunt-mother are deceiv'd.
+ Guil. In what, my dear lord?
+ Ham. I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly
+I
+ know a hawk from a handsaw.
+
+ Enter Polonius.
+
+ Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen!
+ Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern- and you too- at each ear a hearer!
+ That great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling
+ clouts.
+ Ros. Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an
+old
+ man is twice a child.
+ Ham. I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players. Mark
+it.-
+ You say right, sir; a Monday morning; twas so indeed.
+ Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you.
+ Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an
+actor in
+ Rome-
+ Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord.
+ Ham. Buzz, buzz!
+ Pol. Upon my honour-
+ Ham. Then came each actor on his ass-
+ Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy,
+ history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral,
+ tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral;
+scene
+ individable, or poem unlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy,
+nor
+ Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these
+are
+ the only men.
+ Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!
+ Pol. What treasure had he, my lord?
+ Ham. Why,
+
+ 'One fair daughter, and no more,
+ The which he loved passing well.'
+
+ Pol. [aside] Still on my daughter.
+ Ham. Am I not i' th' right, old Jephthah?
+ Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I
+ love passing well.
+ Ham. Nay, that follows not.
+ Pol. What follows then, my lord?
+ Ham. Why,
+
+ 'As by lot, God wot,'
+
+ and then, you know,
+
+ 'It came to pass, as most like it was.'
+
+ The first row of the pious chanson will show you more; for
+look
+ where my abridgment comes.
+
+ Enter four or five Players.
+
+ You are welcome, masters; welcome, all.- I am glad to see
+thee
+ well.- Welcome, good friends.- O, my old friend? Why, thy
+face is
+ valanc'd since I saw thee last. Com'st' thou to' beard me in
+ Denmark?- What, my young lady and mistress? By'r Lady, your
+ ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last by the
+ altitude of a chopine. Pray God your voice, like a piece of
+ uncurrent gold, be not crack'd within the ring.- Masters, you
+are
+ all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at
+ anything we see. We'll have a speech straight. Come, give us
+a
+ taste of your quality. Come, a passionate speech.
+ 1. Play. What speech, my good lord?
+ Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never
+acted;
+ or if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember,
+pleas'd
+ not the million, 'twas caviary to the general; but it was (as
+I
+ receiv'd it, and others, whose judgments in such matters
+cried in
+ the top of mine) an excellent play, well digested in the
+scenes,
+ set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember one said
+ there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter
+savoury,
+ nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of
+ affectation; but call'd it an honest method, as wholesome as
+ sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech
+in't
+ I chiefly lov'd. 'Twas AEneas' tale to Dido, and thereabout
+of it
+ especially where he speaks of Priam's slaughter. If it live
+in
+ your memory, begin at this line- let me see, let me see:
+
+ 'The rugged Pyrrhus, like th' Hyrcanian beast-'
+
+ 'Tis not so; it begins with Pyrrhus:
+
+ 'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,
+ Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
+ When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
+ Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
+ With heraldry more dismal. Head to foot
+ Now is be total gules, horridly trick'd
+ With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
+ Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,
+ That lend a tyrannous and a damned light
+ To their lord's murther. Roasted in wrath and fire,
+ And thus o'ersized with coagulate gore,
+ With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
+ Old grandsire Priam seeks.'
+
+ So, proceed you.
+ Pol. Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good
+ discretion.
+
+ 1. Play. 'Anon he finds him,
+ Striking too short at Greeks. His antique sword,
+ Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
+ Repugnant to command. Unequal match'd,
+ Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide;
+ But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
+ Th' unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
+ Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
+ Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash
+ Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear. For lo! his sword,
+ Which was declining on the milky head
+ Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' th' air to stick.
+ So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
+ And, like a neutral to his will and matter,
+ Did nothing.
+ But, as we often see, against some storm,
+ A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
+ The bold winds speechless, and the orb below
+ As hush as death- anon the dreadful thunder
+ Doth rend the region; so, after Pyrrhus' pause,
+ Aroused vengeance sets him new awork;
+ And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
+ On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne,
+ With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
+ Now falls on Priam.
+ Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! All you gods,
+ In general synod take away her power;
+ Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
+ And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
+ As low as to the fiends!
+
+ Pol. This is too long.
+ Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.- Prithee say
+on.
+ He's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps. Say on;
+come to
+ Hecuba.
+
+ 1. Play. 'But who, O who, had seen the mobled queen-'
+
+ Ham. 'The mobled queen'?
+ Pol. That's good! 'Mobled queen' is good.
+
+ 1. Play. 'Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flames
+ With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
+ Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe,
+ About her lank and all o'erteemed loins,
+ A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up-
+ Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd
+ 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounc'd.
+ But if the gods themselves did see her then,
+ When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
+ In Mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
+ The instant burst of clamour that she made
+ (Unless things mortal move them not at all)
+ Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven
+ And passion in the gods.'
+
+ Pol. Look, whe'r he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears
+in's
+ eyes. Prithee no more!
+ Ham. 'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rest of this
+soon.-
+ Good my lord, will you see the players well bestow'd? Do you
+ hear? Let them be well us'd; for they are the abstract and
+brief
+ chronicles of the time. After your death you were better have
+a
+ bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.
+ Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert.
+ Ham. God's bodykins, man, much better! Use every man after his
+ desert, and who should scape whipping? Use them after your
+own
+ honour and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is
+in
+ your bounty. Take them in.
+ Pol. Come, sirs.
+ Ham. Follow him, friends. We'll hear a play to-morrow.
+ Exeunt Polonius and Players [except the First].
+ Dost thou hear me, old friend? Can you play 'The Murther of
+ Gonzago'?
+ 1. Play. Ay, my lord.
+ Ham. We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a
+ speech of some dozen or sixteen lines which I would set down
+and
+ insert in't, could you not?
+ 1. Play. Ay, my lord.
+ Ham. Very well. Follow that lord- and look you mock him not.
+ [Exit First Player.]
+ My good friends, I'll leave you till night. You are welcome
+to
+ Elsinore.
+ Ros. Good my lord!
+ Ham. Ay, so, God b' wi' ye!
+ [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
+ Now I am alone.
+ O what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
+ Is it not monstrous that this player here,
+ But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
+ Could force his soul so to his own conceit
+ That, from her working, all his visage wann'd,
+ Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
+ A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
+ With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing!
+ For Hecuba!
+ What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
+ That he should weep for her? What would he do,
+ Had he the motive and the cue for passion
+ That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
+ And cleave the general ear with horrid speech;
+ Make mad the guilty and appal the free,
+ Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
+ The very faculties of eyes and ears.
+ Yet I,
+ A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak
+ Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
+ And can say nothing! No, not for a king,
+ Upon whose property and most dear life
+ A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
+ Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
+ Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face?
+ Tweaks me by th' nose? gives me the lie i' th' throat
+ As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this, ha?
+ 'Swounds, I should take it! for it cannot be
+ But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall
+ To make oppression bitter, or ere this
+ I should have fatted all the region kites
+ With this slave's offal. Bloody bawdy villain!
+ Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
+ O, vengeance!
+ Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
+ That I, the son of a dear father murther'd,
+ Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
+ Must (like a whore) unpack my heart with words
+ And fall a-cursing like a very drab,
+ A scullion!
+ Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! Hum, I have heard
+ That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
+ Have by the very cunning of the scene
+ Been struck so to the soul that presently
+ They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
+ For murther, though it have no tongue, will speak
+ With most miraculous organ, I'll have these Players
+ Play something like the murther of my father
+ Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks;
+ I'll tent him to the quick. If he but blench,
+ I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
+ May be a devil; and the devil hath power
+ T' assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
+ Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
+ As he is very potent with such spirits,
+ Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds
+ More relative than this. The play's the thing
+ Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King. Exit.
+
+
+
+
+<>
+
+
+
+ACT III. Scene I.
+Elsinore. A room in the Castle.
+
+Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern,
+and Lords.
+
+ King. And can you by no drift of circumstance
+ Get from him why he puts on this confusion,
+ Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
+ With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?
+ Ros. He does confess he feels himself distracted,
+ But from what cause he will by no means speak.
+ Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,
+ But with a crafty madness keeps aloof
+ When we would bring him on to some confession
+ Of his true state.
+ Queen. Did he receive you well?
+ Ros. Most like a gentleman.
+ Guil. But with much forcing of his disposition.
+ Ros. Niggard of question, but of our demands
+ Most free in his reply.
+ Queen. Did you assay him
+ To any pastime?
+ Ros. Madam, it so fell out that certain players
+ We o'erraught on the way. Of these we told him,
+ And there did seem in him a kind of joy
+ To hear of it. They are here about the court,
+ And, as I think, they have already order
+ This night to play before him.
+ Pol. 'Tis most true;
+ And he beseech'd me to entreat your Majesties
+ To hear and see the matter.
+ King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me
+ To hear him so inclin'd.
+ Good gentlemen, give him a further edge
+ And drive his purpose on to these delights.
+ Ros. We shall, my lord.
+ Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
+ King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;
+ For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,
+ That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
+ Affront Ophelia.
+ Her father and myself (lawful espials)
+ Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing unseen,
+ We may of their encounter frankly judge
+ And gather by him, as he is behav'd,
+ If't be th' affliction of his love, or no,
+ That thus he suffers for.
+ Queen. I shall obey you;
+ And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish
+ That your good beauties be the happy cause
+ Of Hamlet's wildness. So shall I hope your virtues
+ Will bring him to his wonted way again,
+ To both your honours.
+ Oph. Madam, I wish it may.
+ [Exit Queen.]
+ Pol. Ophelia, walk you here.- Gracious, so please you,
+ We will bestow ourselves.- [To Ophelia] Read on this book,
+ That show of such an exercise may colour
+ Your loneliness.- We are oft to blame in this,
+ 'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage
+ And pious action we do sugar o'er
+ The Devil himself.
+ King. [aside] O, 'tis too true!
+ How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!
+ The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art,
+ Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it
+ Than is my deed to my most painted word.
+ O heavy burthen!
+ Pol. I hear him coming. Let's withdraw, my lord.
+ Exeunt King and Polonius].
+
+ Enter Hamlet.
+
+ Ham. To be, or not to be- that is the question:
+ Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
+ The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
+ Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
+ And by opposing end them. To die- to sleep-
+ No more; and by a sleep to say we end
+ The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
+ That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
+ Devoutly to be wish'd. To die- to sleep.
+ To sleep- perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub!
+ For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
+ When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
+ Must give us pause. There's the respect
+ That makes calamity of so long life.
+ For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
+ Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
+ The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
+ The insolence of office, and the spurns
+ That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
+ When he himself might his quietus make
+ With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,
+ To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
+ But that the dread of something after death-
+ The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
+ No traveller returns- puzzles the will,
+ And makes us rather bear those ills we have
+ Than fly to others that we know not of?
+ Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
+ And thus the native hue of resolution
+ Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
+ And enterprises of great pith and moment
+ With this regard their currents turn awry
+ And lose the name of action.- Soft you now!
+ The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons
+ Be all my sins rememb'red.
+ Oph. Good my lord,
+ How does your honour for this many a day?
+ Ham. I humbly thank you; well, well, well.
+ Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours
+ That I have longed long to re-deliver.
+ I pray you, now receive them.
+ Ham. No, not I!
+ I never gave you aught.
+ Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did,
+ And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd
+ As made the things more rich. Their perfume lost,
+ Take these again; for to the noble mind
+ Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
+ There, my lord.
+ Ham. Ha, ha! Are you honest?
+ Oph. My lord?
+ Ham. Are you fair?
+ Oph. What means your lordship?
+ Ham. That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit
+no
+ discourse to your beauty.
+ Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with
+honesty?
+ Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform
+ honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty
+can
+ translate beauty into his likeness. This was sometime a
+paradox,
+ but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.
+ Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
+ Ham. You should not have believ'd me; for virtue cannot so
+ inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I loved
+you
+ not.
+ Oph. I was the more deceived.
+ Ham. Get thee to a nunnery! Why wouldst thou be a breeder of
+ sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could
+accuse
+ me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne
+me.
+ I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at
+my
+ beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give
+ them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows
+as I
+ do, crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves
+all;
+ believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your
+ father?
+ Oph. At home, my lord.
+ Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool
+ nowhere but in's own house. Farewell.
+ Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens!
+ Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy
+dowry:
+ be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not
+escape
+ calumny. Get thee to a nunnery. Go, farewell. Or if thou wilt
+ needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what
+ monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too.
+ Farewell.
+ Oph. O heavenly powers, restore him!
+ Ham. I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath
+ given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig,
+you
+ amble, and you lisp; you nickname God's creatures and make
+your
+ wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't! it hath
+made
+ me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages. Those that are
+ married already- all but one- shall live; the rest shall keep
+as
+ they are. To a nunnery, go. Exit.
+ Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
+ The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword,
+ Th' expectancy and rose of the fair state,
+ The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
+ Th' observ'd of all observers- quite, quite down!
+ And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
+ That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
+ Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
+ Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
+ That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
+ Blasted with ecstasy. O, woe is me
+ T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see!
+
+ Enter King and Polonius.
+
+ King. Love? his affections do not that way tend;
+ Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,
+ Was not like madness. There's something in his soul
+ O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;
+ And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose
+ Will be some danger; which for to prevent,
+ I have in quick determination
+ Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England
+ For the demand of our neglected tribute.
+ Haply the seas, and countries different,
+ With variable objects, shall expel
+ This something-settled matter in his heart,
+ Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus
+ From fashion of himself. What think you on't?
+ Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I believe
+ The origin and commencement of his grief
+ Sprung from neglected love.- How now, Ophelia?
+ You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said.
+ We heard it all.- My lord, do as you please;
+ But if you hold it fit, after the play
+ Let his queen mother all alone entreat him
+ To show his grief. Let her be round with him;
+ And I'll be plac'd so please you, in the ear
+ Of all their conference. If she find him not,
+ To England send him; or confine him where
+ Your wisdom best shall think.
+ King. It shall be so.
+ Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+Scene II.
+Elsinore. hall in the Castle.
+
+Enter Hamlet and three of the Players.
+
+ Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you,
+ trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our
+ players do, I had as live the town crier spoke my lines. Nor
+do
+ not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all
+ gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say)
+ whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a
+ temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to
+the
+ soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion
+to
+ tatters, to very rags, to split the cars of the groundlings,
+who
+ (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable
+dumb
+ shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipp'd for
+o'erdoing
+ Termagant. It out-herods Herod. Pray you avoid it.
+ Player. I warrant your honour.
+ Ham. Be not too tame neither; but let your own discretion be
+your
+ tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action;
+with
+ this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of
+ nature: for anything so overdone is from the purpose of
+playing,
+ whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as
+ 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show Virtue her own
+feature,
+ scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time
+his
+ form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off,
+though
+ it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious
+ grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance
+ o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that
+I
+ have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not
+to
+ speak it profanely), that, neither having the accent of
+ Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have
+so
+ strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's
+ journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they
+imitated
+ humanity so abominably.
+ Player. I hope we have reform'd that indifferently with us,
+sir.
+ Ham. O, reform it altogether! And let those that play your
+clowns
+ speak no more than is set down for them. For there be of them
+ that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren
+ spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some
+necessary
+ question of the play be then to be considered. That's
+villanous
+ and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.
+Go
+ make you ready.
+ Exeunt Players.
+
+ Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.
+
+ How now, my lord? Will the King hear this piece of work?
+ Pol. And the Queen too, and that presently.
+ Ham. Bid the players make haste, [Exit Polonius.] Will you two
+ help to hasten them?
+ Both. We will, my lord. Exeunt they two.
+ Ham. What, ho, Horatio!
+
+ Enter Horatio.
+
+ Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service.
+ Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
+ As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.
+ Hor. O, my dear lord!
+ Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter;
+ For what advancement may I hope from thee,
+ That no revenue hast but thy good spirits
+ To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?
+ No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
+ And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
+ Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
+ Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
+ And could of men distinguish, her election
+ Hath seal'd thee for herself. For thou hast been
+ As one, in suff'ring all, that suffers nothing;
+ A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards
+ Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blest are those
+ Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled
+ That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger
+ To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
+ That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
+ In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
+ As I do thee. Something too much of this I
+ There is a play to-night before the King.
+ One scene of it comes near the circumstance,
+ Which I have told thee, of my father's death.
+ I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,
+ Even with the very comment of thy soul
+ Observe my uncle. If his occulted guilt
+ Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
+ It is a damned ghost that we have seen,
+ And my imaginations are as foul
+ As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note;
+ For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,
+ And after we will both our judgments join
+ In censure of his seeming.
+ Hor. Well, my lord.
+ If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,
+ And scape detecting, I will pay the theft.
+
+ Sound a flourish. [Enter Trumpets and Kettledrums. Danish
+ march. [Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz,
+ Guildenstern, and other Lords attendant, with the Guard
+ carrying torches.
+
+ Ham. They are coming to the play. I must be idle.
+ Get you a place.
+ King. How fares our cousin Hamlet?
+ Ham. Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish. I eat the
+air,
+ promise-cramm'd. You cannot feed capons so.
+ King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet. These words are
+not
+ mine.
+ Ham. No, nor mine now. [To Polonius] My lord, you play'd once
+ i' th' university, you say?
+ Pol. That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.
+ Ham. What did you enact?
+ Pol. I did enact Julius Caesar; I was kill'd i' th' Capitol;
+Brutus
+ kill'd me.
+ Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf
+there. Be
+ the players ready.
+ Ros. Ay, my lord. They stay upon your patience.
+ Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.
+ Ham. No, good mother. Here's metal more attractive.
+ Pol. [to the King] O, ho! do you mark that?
+ Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
+ [Sits down at Ophelia's feet.]
+
+ Oph. No, my lord.
+ Ham. I mean, my head upon your lap?
+ Oph. Ay, my lord.
+ Ham. Do you think I meant country matters?
+ Oph. I think nothing, my lord.
+ Ham. That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.
+ Oph. What is, my lord?
+ Ham. Nothing.
+ Oph. You are merry, my lord.
+ Ham. Who, I?
+ Oph. Ay, my lord.
+ Ham. O God, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be
+merry?
+ For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father
+died
+ within 's two hours.
+ Oph. Nay 'tis twice two months, my lord.
+ Ham. So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have
+a
+ suit of sables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not
+forgotten
+ yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his
+life
+ half a year. But, by'r Lady, he must build churches then; or
+else
+ shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose
+
+ epitaph is 'For O, for O, the hobby-horse is forgot!'
+
+ Hautboys play. The dumb show enters.
+
+ Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing
+ him and he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation
+ unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her
+ neck. He lays him down upon a bank of flowers. She, seeing
+ him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his
+ crown, kisses it, pours poison in the sleeper's ears, and
+ leaves him. The Queen returns, finds the King dead, and makes
+ passionate action. The Poisoner with some three or four
+Mutes,
+ comes in again, seem to condole with her. The dead body is
+ carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts; she
+ seems harsh and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts
+ his love.
+ Exeunt.
+
+ Oph. What means this, my lord?
+ Ham. Marry, this is miching malhecho; it means mischief.
+ Oph. Belike this show imports the argument of the play.
+
+ Enter Prologue.
+
+ Ham. We shall know by this fellow. The players cannot keep
+counsel;
+ they'll tell all.
+ Oph. Will he tell us what this show meant?
+ Ham. Ay, or any show that you'll show him. Be not you asham'd
+to
+ show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.
+ Oph. You are naught, you are naught! I'll mark the play.
+
+ Pro. For us, and for our tragedy,
+ Here stooping to your clemency,
+ We beg your hearing patiently. [Exit.]
+
+ Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?
+ Oph. 'Tis brief, my lord.
+ Ham. As woman's love.
+
+ Enter [two Players as] King and Queen.
+
+ King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round
+ Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground,
+ And thirty dozen moons with borrowed sheen
+ About the world have times twelve thirties been,
+ Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,
+ Unite comutual in most sacred bands.
+ Queen. So many journeys may the sun and moon
+ Make us again count o'er ere love be done!
+ But woe is me! you are so sick of late,
+ So far from cheer and from your former state.
+ That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
+ Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must;
+ For women's fear and love holds quantity,
+ In neither aught, or in extremity.
+ Now what my love is, proof hath made you know;
+ And as my love is siz'd, my fear is so.
+ Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
+ Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
+ King. Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;
+ My operant powers their functions leave to do.
+ And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
+ Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind
+ For husband shalt thou-
+ Queen. O, confound the rest!
+ Such love must needs be treason in my breast.
+ When second husband let me be accurst!
+ None wed the second but who killed the first.
+
+ Ham. [aside] Wormwood, wormwood!
+
+ Queen. The instances that second marriage move
+ Are base respects of thrift, but none of love.
+ A second time I kill my husband dead
+ When second husband kisses me in bed.
+ King. I do believe you think what now you speak;
+ But what we do determine oft we break.
+ Purpose is but the slave to memory,
+ Of violent birth, but poor validity;
+ Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree,
+ But fall unshaken when they mellow be.
+ Most necessary 'tis that we forget
+ To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt.
+ What to ourselves in passion we propose,
+ The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
+ The violence of either grief or joy
+ Their own enactures with themselves destroy.
+ Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
+ Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
+ This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
+ That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
+ For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
+ Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
+ The great man down, you mark his favourite flies,
+ The poor advanc'd makes friends of enemies;
+ And hitherto doth love on fortune tend,
+ For who not needs shall never lack a friend,
+ And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
+ Directly seasons him his enemy.
+ But, orderly to end where I begun,
+ Our wills and fates do so contrary run
+ That our devices still are overthrown;
+ Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
+ So think thou wilt no second husband wed;
+ But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.
+ Queen. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light,
+ Sport and repose lock from me day and night,
+ To desperation turn my trust and hope,
+ An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope,
+ Each opposite that blanks the face of joy
+ Meet what I would have well, and it destroy,
+ Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,
+ If, once a widow, ever I be wife!
+
+ Ham. If she should break it now!
+
+ King. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile.
+ My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
+ The tedious day with sleep.
+ Queen. Sleep rock thy brain,
+ [He] sleeps.
+ And never come mischance between us twain!
+Exit.
+
+ Ham. Madam, how like you this play?
+ Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
+ Ham. O, but she'll keep her word.
+ King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in't?
+ Ham. No, no! They do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i'
+th'
+ world.
+ King. What do you call the play?
+ Ham. 'The Mousetrap.' Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the
+ image of a murther done in Vienna. Gonzago is the duke's
+name;
+ his wife, Baptista. You shall see anon. 'Tis a knavish piece
+of
+ work; but what o' that? Your Majesty, and we that have free
+ souls, it touches us not. Let the gall'd jade winch; our
+withers
+ are unwrung.
+
+ Enter Lucianus.
+
+ This is one Lucianus, nephew to the King.
+ Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord.
+ Ham. I could interpret between you and your love, if I could
+see
+ the puppets dallying.
+ Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
+ Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.
+ Oph. Still better, and worse.
+ Ham. So you must take your husbands.- Begin, murtherer. Pox,
+leave
+ thy damnable faces, and begin! Come, the croaking raven doth
+ bellow for revenge.
+
+ Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
+ Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
+ Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
+ With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
+ Thy natural magic and dire property
+ On wholesome life usurp immediately.
+ Pours the poison in his ears.
+
+ Ham. He poisons him i' th' garden for's estate. His name's
+Gonzago.
+ The story is extant, and written in very choice Italian. You
+ shall see anon how the murtherer gets the love of Gonzago's
+wife.
+ Oph. The King rises.
+ Ham. What, frighted with false fire?
+ Queen. How fares my lord?
+ Pol. Give o'er the play.
+ King. Give me some light! Away!
+ All. Lights, lights, lights!
+ Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio.
+ Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep,
+ The hart ungalled play;
+ For some must watch, while some must sleep:
+ Thus runs the world away.
+ Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers- if the rest of
+my
+ fortunes turn Turk with me-with two Provincial roses on my
+raz'd
+ shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir?
+ Hor. Half a share.
+ Ham. A whole one I!
+ For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
+ This realm dismantled was
+ Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
+ A very, very- pajock.
+ Hor. You might have rhym'd.
+ Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand
+ pound! Didst perceive?
+ Hor. Very well, my lord.
+ Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning?
+ Hor. I did very well note him.
+ Ham. Aha! Come, some music! Come, the recorders!
+ For if the King like not the comedy,
+ Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy.
+ Come, some music!
+
+ Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
+
+ Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
+ Ham. Sir, a whole history.
+ Guil. The King, sir-
+ Ham. Ay, sir, what of him?
+ Guil. Is in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd.
+ Ham. With drink, sir?
+ Guil. No, my lord; rather with choler.
+ Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this
+to
+ the doctor; for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps
+ plunge him into far more choler.
+ Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and
+start
+ not so wildly from my affair.
+ Ham. I am tame, sir; pronounce.
+ Guil. The Queen, your mother, in most great affliction of
+spirit
+ hath sent me to you.
+ Ham. You are welcome.
+ Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right
+breed.
+ If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will
+do
+ your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon and my return
+ shall be the end of my business.
+ Ham. Sir, I cannot.
+ Guil. What, my lord?
+ Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseas'd. But, sir,
+such
+ answer as I can make, you shall command; or rather, as you
+say,
+ my mother. Therefore no more, but to the matter! My mother,
+you
+ say-
+ Ros. Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into
+ amazement and admiration.
+ Ham. O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother! But is
+there no
+ sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart.
+ Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to
+bed.
+ Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any
+ further trade with us?
+ Ros. My lord, you once did love me.
+ Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers!
+ Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do
+surely
+ bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs
+to
+ your friend.
+ Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.
+ Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the King
+himself
+ for your succession in Denmark?
+ Ham. Ay, sir, but 'while the grass grows'- the proverb is
+something
+ musty.
+
+ Enter the Players with recorders.
+
+ O, the recorders! Let me see one. To withdraw with you- why
+do
+ you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive
+me
+ into a toil?
+ Guil. O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too
+unmannerly.
+ Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this
+pipe?
+ Guil. My lord, I cannot.
+ Ham. I pray you.
+ Guil. Believe me, I cannot.
+ Ham. I do beseech you.
+ Guil. I know, no touch of it, my lord.
+ Ham. It is as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with your
+ fingers and thumbs, give it breath with your mouth, and it
+will
+ discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.
+ Guil. But these cannot I command to any utt'rance of harmony. I
+ have not the skill.
+ Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me!
+You
+ would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you
+would
+ pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my
+ lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much
+music,
+ excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it
+ speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be play'd on than
+a
+ pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret
+me,
+ you cannot play upon me.
+
+ Enter Polonius.
+
+ God bless you, sir!
+ Pol. My lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently.
+ Ham. Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?
+ Pol. By th' mass, and 'tis like a camel indeed.
+ Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel.
+ Pol. It is back'd like a weasel.
+ Ham. Or like a whale.
+ Pol. Very like a whale.
+ Ham. Then will I come to my mother by-and-by.- They fool me to
+the
+ top of my bent.- I will come by-and-by.
+ Pol. I will say so. Exit.
+ Ham. 'By-and-by' is easily said.- Leave me, friends.
+ [Exeunt all but Hamlet.]
+
+ 'Tis now the very witching time of night,
+ When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
+ Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood
+ And do such bitter business as the day
+ Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother!
+ O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
+ The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom.
+ Let me be cruel, not unnatural;
+ I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
+ My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites-
+ How in my words somever she be shent,
+ To give them seals never, my soul, consent! Exit.
+
+
+
+
+Scene III.
+A room in the Castle.
+
+Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.
+
+ King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with us
+ To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you;
+ I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
+ And he to England shall along with you.
+ The terms of our estate may not endure
+ Hazard so near us as doth hourly grow
+ Out of his lunacies.
+ Guil. We will ourselves provide.
+ Most holy and religious fear it is
+ To keep those many many bodies safe
+ That live and feed upon your Majesty.
+ Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound
+ With all the strength and armour of the mind
+ To keep itself from noyance; but much more
+ That spirit upon whose weal depends and rests
+ The lives of many. The cesse of majesty
+ Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw
+ What's near it with it. It is a massy wheel,
+ Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
+ To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
+ Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which when it falls,
+ Each small annexment, petty consequence,
+ Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone
+ Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
+ King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
+ For we will fetters put upon this fear,
+ Which now goes too free-footed.
+ Both. We will haste us.
+ Exeunt Gentlemen.
+
+ Enter Polonius.
+
+ Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet.
+ Behind the arras I'll convey myself
+ To hear the process. I'll warrant she'll tax him home;
+ And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
+ 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
+ Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
+ The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege.
+ I'll call upon you ere you go to bed
+ And tell you what I know.
+ King. Thanks, dear my lord.
+ Exit [Polonius].
+ O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
+ It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
+ A brother's murther! Pray can I not,
+ Though inclination be as sharp as will.
+ My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
+ And, like a man to double business bound,
+ I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
+ And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
+ Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
+ Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
+ To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
+ But to confront the visage of offence?
+ And what's in prayer but this twofold force,
+ To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
+ Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
+ My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
+ Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murther'?
+ That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
+ Of those effects for which I did the murther-
+ My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
+ May one be pardon'd and retain th' offence?
+ In the corrupted currents of this world
+ Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
+ And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
+ Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above.
+ There is no shuffling; there the action lies
+ In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd,
+ Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
+ To give in evidence. What then? What rests?
+ Try what repentance can. What can it not?
+ Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
+ O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
+ O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
+ Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay.
+ Bow, stubborn knees; and heart with strings of steel,
+ Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
+ All may be well. He kneels.
+
+ Enter Hamlet.
+
+ Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
+ And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven,
+ And so am I reveng'd. That would be scann'd.
+ A villain kills my father; and for that,
+ I, his sole son, do this same villain send
+ To heaven.
+ Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge!
+ He took my father grossly, full of bread,
+ With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
+ And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven?
+ But in our circumstance and course of thought,
+ 'Tis heavy with him; and am I then reveng'd,
+ To take him in the purging of his soul,
+ When he is fit and seasoned for his passage?
+ No.
+ Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent.
+ When he is drunk asleep; or in his rage;
+ Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed;
+ At gaming, swearing, or about some act
+ That has no relish of salvation in't-
+ Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
+ And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
+ As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays.
+ This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. Exit.
+ King. [rises] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.
+ Words without thoughts never to heaven go. Exit.
+
+
+
+
+Scene IV.
+The Queen's closet.
+
+Enter Queen and Polonius.
+
+ Pol. He will come straight. Look you lay home to him.
+ Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
+ And that your Grace hath screen'd and stood between
+ Much heat and him. I'll silence me even here.
+ Pray you be round with him.
+ Ham. (within) Mother, mother, mother!
+ Queen. I'll warrant you; fear me not. Withdraw; I hear him
+coming.
+ [Polonius hides behind the arras.]
+
+ Enter Hamlet.
+
+ Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter?
+ Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
+ Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended.
+ Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
+ Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
+ Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet?
+ Ham. What's the matter now?
+ Queen. Have you forgot me?
+ Ham. No, by the rood, not so!
+ You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife,
+ And (would it were not so!) you are my mother.
+ Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak.
+ Ham. Come, come, and sit you down. You shall not budge;
+ You go not till I set you up a glass
+ Where you may see the inmost part of you.
+ Queen. What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murther me?
+ Help, help, ho!
+ Pol. [behind] What, ho! help, help, help!
+ Ham. [draws] How now? a rat? Dead for a ducat, dead!
+ [Makes a pass through the arras and] kills Polonius.
+ Pol. [behind] O, I am slain!
+ Queen. O me, what hast thou done?
+ Ham. Nay, I know not. Is it the King?
+ Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
+ Ham. A bloody deed- almost as bad, good mother,
+ As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
+ Queen. As kill a king?
+ Ham. Ay, lady, it was my word.
+ [Lifts up the arras and sees Polonius.]
+ Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
+ I took thee for thy better. Take thy fortune.
+ Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.
+ Leave wringing of your hands. Peace! sit you down
+ And let me wring your heart; for so I shall
+ If it be made of penetrable stuff;
+ If damned custom have not braz'd it so
+ That it is proof and bulwark against sense.
+ Queen. What have I done that thou dar'st wag thy tongue
+ In noise so rude against me?
+ Ham. Such an act
+ That blurs the grace and blush of modesty;
+ Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose
+ From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
+ And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows
+ As false as dicers' oaths. O, such a deed
+ As from the body of contraction plucks
+ The very soul, and sweet religion makes
+ A rhapsody of words! Heaven's face doth glow;
+ Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
+ With tristful visage, as against the doom,
+ Is thought-sick at the act.
+ Queen. Ah me, what act,
+ That roars so loud and thunders in the index?
+ Ham. Look here upon th's picture, and on this,
+ The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
+ See what a grace was seated on this brow;
+ Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
+ An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
+ A station like the herald Mercury
+ New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill:
+ A combination and a form indeed
+ Where every god did seem to set his seal
+ To give the world assurance of a man.
+ This was your husband. Look you now what follows.
+ Here is your husband, like a mildew'd ear
+ Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
+ Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
+ And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes
+ You cannot call it love; for at your age
+ The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble,
+ And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment
+ Would step from this to this? Sense sure you have,
+ Else could you not have motion; but sure that sense
+ Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
+ Nor sense to ecstacy was ne'er so thrall'd
+ But it reserv'd some quantity of choice
+ To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
+ That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
+ Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
+ Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
+ Or but a sickly part of one true sense
+ Could not so mope.
+ O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
+ If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
+ To flaming youth let virtue be as wax
+ And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no shame
+ When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
+ Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
+ And reason panders will.
+ Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more!
+ Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul,
+ And there I see such black and grained spots
+ As will not leave their tinct.
+ Ham. Nay, but to live
+ In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
+ Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
+ Over the nasty sty!
+ Queen. O, speak to me no more!
+ These words like daggers enter in mine ears.
+ No more, sweet Hamlet!
+ Ham. A murtherer and a villain!
+ A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
+ Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
+ A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
+ That from a shelf the precious diadem stole
+ And put it in his pocket!
+ Queen. No more!
+
+ Enter the Ghost in his nightgown.
+
+ Ham. A king of shreds and patches!-
+ Save me and hover o'er me with your wings,
+ You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?
+ Queen. Alas, he's mad!
+ Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
+ That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by
+ Th' important acting of your dread command?
+ O, say!
+ Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation
+ Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
+ But look, amazement on thy mother sits.
+ O, step between her and her fighting soul
+ Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.
+ Speak to her, Hamlet.
+ Ham. How is it with you, lady?
+ Queen. Alas, how is't with you,
+ That you do bend your eye on vacancy,
+ And with th' encorporal air do hold discourse?
+ Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
+ And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm,
+ Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements,
+ Start up and stand an end. O gentle son,
+ Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
+ Sprinkle cool patience! Whereon do you look?
+ Ham. On him, on him! Look you how pale he glares!
+ His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
+ Would make them capable.- Do not look upon me,
+ Lest with this piteous action you convert
+ My stern effects. Then what I have to do
+ Will want true colour- tears perchance for blood.
+ Queen. To whom do you speak this?
+ Ham. Do you see nothing there?
+ Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.
+ Ham. Nor did you nothing hear?
+ Queen. No, nothing but ourselves.
+ Ham. Why, look you there! Look how it steals away!
+ My father, in his habit as he liv'd!
+ Look where he goes even now out at the portal!
+ Exit Ghost.
+ Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain.
+ This bodiless creation ecstasy
+ Is very cunning in.
+ Ham. Ecstasy?
+ My pulse as yours doth temperately keep time
+ And makes as healthful music. It is not madness
+ That I have utt'red. Bring me to the test,
+ And I the matter will reword; which madness
+ Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
+ Lay not that flattering unction to your soul
+ That not your trespass but my madness speaks.
+ It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
+ Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
+ Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
+ Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
+ And do not spread the compost on the weeds
+ To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;
+ For in the fatness of these pursy times
+ Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg-
+ Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.
+ Queen. O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
+ Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it,
+ And live the purer with the other half,
+ Good night- but go not to my uncle's bed.
+ Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
+ That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
+ Of habits evil, is angel yet in this,
+ That to the use of actions fair and good
+ He likewise gives a frock or livery,
+ That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night,
+ And that shall lend a kind of easiness
+ To the next abstinence; the next more easy;
+ For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
+ And either [master] the devil, or throw him out
+ With wondrous potency. Once more, good night;
+ And when you are desirous to be blest,
+ I'll blessing beg of you.- For this same lord,
+ I do repent; but heaven hath pleas'd it so,
+ To punish me with this, and this with me,
+ That I must be their scourge and minister.
+ I will bestow him, and will answer well
+ The death I gave him. So again, good night.
+ I must be cruel, only to be kind;
+ Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
+ One word more, good lady.
+ Queen. What shall I do?
+ Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
+ Let the bloat King tempt you again to bed;
+ Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
+ And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
+ Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
+ Make you to ravel all this matter out,
+ That I essentially am not in madness,
+ But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know;
+ For who that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
+ Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib
+ Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so?
+ No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
+ Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
+ Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape,
+ To try conclusions, in the basket creep
+ And break your own neck down.
+ Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath,
+ And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
+ What thou hast said to me.
+ Ham. I must to England; you know that?
+ Queen. Alack,
+ I had forgot! 'Tis so concluded on.
+ Ham. There's letters seal'd; and my two schoolfellows,
+ Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd,
+ They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way
+ And marshal me to knavery. Let it work;
+ For 'tis the sport to have the enginer
+ Hoist with his own petar; and 't shall go hard
+ But I will delve one yard below their mines
+ And blow them at the moon. O, 'tis most sweet
+ When in one line two crafts directly meet.
+ This man shall set me packing.
+ I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.-
+ Mother, good night.- Indeed, this counsellor
+ Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
+ Who was in life a foolish peating knave.
+ Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.
+ Good night, mother.
+ [Exit the Queen. Then] Exit Hamlet, tugging in
+ Polonius.
+
+
+
+
+<>
+
+
+
+ACT IV. Scene I.
+Elsinore. A room in the Castle.
+
+Enter King and Queen, with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
+
+ King. There's matter in these sighs. These profound heaves
+ You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them.
+ Where is your son?
+ Queen. Bestow this place on us a little while.
+ [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]
+ Ah, mine own lord, what have I seen to-night!
+ King. What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?
+ Queen. Mad as the sea and wind when both contend
+ Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit
+ Behind the arras hearing something stir,
+ Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!'
+ And in this brainish apprehension kills
+ The unseen good old man.
+ King. O heavy deed!
+ It had been so with us, had we been there.
+ His liberty is full of threats to all-
+ To you yourself, to us, to every one.
+ Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd?
+ It will be laid to us, whose providence
+ Should have kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt
+ This mad young man. But so much was our love
+ We would not understand what was most fit,
+ But, like the owner of a foul disease,
+ To keep it from divulging, let it feed
+ Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone?
+ Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd;
+ O'er whom his very madness, like some ore
+ Among a mineral of metals base,
+ Shows itself pure. He weeps for what is done.
+ King. O Gertrude, come away!
+ The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch
+ But we will ship him hence; and this vile deed
+ We must with all our majesty and skill
+ Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern!
+
+ Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
+
+ Friends both, go join you with some further aid.
+ Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
+ And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him.
+ Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body
+ Into the chapel. I pray you haste in this.
+ Exeunt [Rosencrantz and Guildenstern].
+ Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends
+ And let them know both what we mean to do
+ And what's untimely done. [So haply slander-]
+ Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
+ As level as the cannon to his blank,
+ Transports his poisoned shot- may miss our name
+ And hit the woundless air.- O, come away!
+ My soul is full of discord and dismay.
+ Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+Scene II.
+Elsinore. A passage in the Castle.
+
+Enter Hamlet.
+
+ Ham. Safely stow'd.
+ Gentlemen. (within) Hamlet! Lord Hamlet!
+ Ham. But soft! What noise? Who calls on Hamlet? O, here they
+come.
+
+ Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
+
+ Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?
+ Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.
+ Ros. Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence
+ And bear it to the chapel.
+ Ham. Do not believe it.
+ Ros. Believe what?
+ Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides,
+to be
+ demanded of a sponge, what replication should be made by the
+son
+ of a king?
+ Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord?
+ Ham. Ay, sir; that soaks up the King's countenance, his
+rewards,
+ his authorities. But such officers do the King best service
+in
+ the end. He keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his
+jaw;
+ first mouth'd, to be last swallowed. When he needs what you
+have
+ glean'd, it is but squeezing you and, sponge, you shall be
+dry
+ again.
+ Ros. I understand you not, my lord.
+ Ham. I am glad of it. A knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.
+ Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is and go with us
+to
+ the King.
+ Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not with the
+body.
+ The King is a thing-
+ Guil. A thing, my lord?
+ Ham. Of nothing. Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after.
+ Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+Scene III.
+Elsinore. A room in the Castle.
+
+Enter King.
+
+ King. I have sent to seek him and to find the body.
+ How dangerous is it that this man goes loose!
+ Yet must not we put the strong law on him.
+ He's lov'd of the distracted multitude,
+ Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes;
+ And where 'tis so, th' offender's scourge is weigh'd,
+ But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even,
+ This sudden sending him away must seem
+ Deliberate pause. Diseases desperate grown
+ By desperate appliance are reliev'd,
+ Or not at all.
+
+ Enter Rosencrantz.
+
+ How now O What hath befall'n?
+ Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
+ We cannot get from him.
+ King. But where is he?
+ Ros. Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure.
+ King. Bring him before us.
+ Ros. Ho, Guildenstern! Bring in my lord.
+
+ Enter Hamlet and Guildenstern [with Attendants].
+
+ King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?
+ Ham. At supper.
+ King. At supper? Where?
+ Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten. A certain
+ convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is
+your
+ only emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat us,
+and
+ we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean
+beggar
+ is but variable service- two dishes, but to one table. That's
+the
+ end.
+ King. Alas, alas!
+ Ham. A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and
+eat
+ of the fish that hath fed of that worm.
+ King. What dost thou mean by this?
+ Ham. Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress
+through
+ the guts of a beggar.
+ King. Where is Polonius?
+ Ham. In heaven. Send thither to see. If your messenger find him
+not
+ there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But indeed, if
+you
+ find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go
+up
+ the stair, into the lobby.
+ King. Go seek him there. [To Attendants.]
+ Ham. He will stay till you come.
+ [Exeunt Attendants.]
+ King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,-
+ Which we do tender as we dearly grieve
+ For that which thou hast done,- must send thee hence
+ With fiery quickness. Therefore prepare thyself.
+ The bark is ready and the wind at help,
+ Th' associates tend, and everything is bent
+ For England.
+ Ham. For England?
+ King. Ay, Hamlet.
+ Ham. Good.
+ King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.
+ Ham. I see a cherub that sees them. But come, for England!
+ Farewell, dear mother.
+ King. Thy loving father, Hamlet.
+ Ham. My mother! Father and mother is man and wife; man and wife
+is
+ one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England!
+Exit.
+ King. Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard.
+ Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night.
+ Away! for everything is seal'd and done
+ That else leans on th' affair. Pray you make haste.
+ Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern]
+ And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught,-
+ As my great power thereof may give thee sense,
+ Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
+ After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
+ Pays homage to us,- thou mayst not coldly set
+ Our sovereign process, which imports at full,
+ By letters congruing to that effect,
+ The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
+ For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
+ And thou must cure me. Till I know 'tis done,
+ Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. Exit.
+
+
+
+
+<>
+
+
+
+Scene IV.
+Near Elsinore.
+
+Enter Fortinbras with his Army over the stage.
+
+ For. Go, Captain, from me greet the Danish king.
+ Tell him that by his license Fortinbras
+ Craves the conveyance of a promis'd march
+ Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
+ If that his Majesty would aught with us,
+ We shall express our duty in his eye;
+ And let him know so.
+ Capt. I will do't, my lord.
+ For. Go softly on.
+ Exeunt [all but the Captain].
+
+ Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, [Guildenstern,] and others.
+
+ Ham. Good sir, whose powers are these?
+ Capt. They are of Norway, sir.
+ Ham. How purpos'd, sir, I pray you?
+ Capt. Against some part of Poland.
+ Ham. Who commands them, sir?
+ Capt. The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras.
+ Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,
+ Or for some frontier?
+ Capt. Truly to speak, and with no addition,
+ We go to gain a little patch of ground
+ That hath in it no profit but the name.
+ To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
+ Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole
+ A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.
+ Ham. Why, then the Polack never will defend it.
+ Capt. Yes, it is already garrison'd.
+ Ham. Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats
+ Will not debate the question of this straw.
+ This is th' imposthume of much wealth and peace,
+ That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
+ Why the man dies.- I humbly thank you, sir.
+ Capt. God b' wi' you, sir. [Exit.]
+ Ros. Will't please you go, my lord?
+ Ham. I'll be with you straight. Go a little before.
+ [Exeunt all but Hamlet.]
+ How all occasions do inform against me
+ And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
+ If his chief good and market of his time
+ Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more.
+ Sure he that made us with such large discourse,
+ Looking before and after, gave us not
+ That capability and godlike reason
+ To fust in us unus'd. Now, whether it be
+ Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
+ Of thinking too precisely on th' event,-
+ A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
+ And ever three parts coward,- I do not know
+ Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do,'
+ Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means
+ To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me.
+ Witness this army of such mass and charge,
+ Led by a delicate and tender prince,
+ Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff'd,
+ Makes mouths at the invisible event,
+ Exposing what is mortal and unsure
+ To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
+ Even for an eggshell. Rightly to be great
+ Is not to stir without great argument,
+ But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
+ When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
+ That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
+ Excitements of my reason and my blood,
+ And let all sleep, while to my shame I see
+ The imminent death of twenty thousand men
+ That for a fantasy and trick of fame
+ Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
+ Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
+ Which is not tomb enough and continent
+ To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,
+ My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! Exit.
+
+
+
+
+<>
+
+
+
+Scene V.
+Elsinore. A room in the Castle.
+
+Enter Horatio, Queen, and a Gentleman.
+
+ Queen. I will not speak with her.
+ Gent. She is importunate, indeed distract.
+ Her mood will needs be pitied.
+ Queen. What would she have?
+ Gent. She speaks much of her father; says she hears
+ There's tricks i' th' world, and hems, and beats her heart;
+ Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
+ That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing,
+ Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
+ The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
+ And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;
+ Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them,
+ Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
+ Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
+ Hor. 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew
+ Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
+ Queen. Let her come in.
+ [Exit Gentleman.]
+ [Aside] To my sick soul (as sin's true nature is)
+ Each toy seems Prologue to some great amiss.
+ So full of artless jealousy is guilt
+ It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
+
+ Enter Ophelia distracted.
+
+ Oph. Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark?
+ Queen. How now, Ophelia?
+ Oph. (sings)
+ How should I your true-love know
+ From another one?
+ By his cockle bat and' staff
+ And his sandal shoon.
+
+ Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
+ Oph. Say you? Nay, pray You mark.
+
+ (Sings) He is dead and gone, lady,
+ He is dead and gone;
+ At his head a grass-green turf,
+ At his heels a stone.
+
+ O, ho!
+ Queen. Nay, but Ophelia-
+ Oph. Pray you mark.
+
+ (Sings) White his shroud as the mountain snow-
+
+ Enter King.
+
+ Queen. Alas, look here, my lord!
+ Oph. (Sings)
+ Larded all with sweet flowers;
+ Which bewept to the grave did not go
+ With true-love showers.
+
+ King. How do you, pretty lady?
+ Oph. Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's
+daughter.
+ Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God
+be at
+ your table!
+ King. Conceit upon her father.
+ Oph. Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you
+what
+ it means, say you this:
+
+ (Sings) To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
+ All in the morning bedtime,
+ And I a maid at your window,
+ To be your Valentine.
+
+ Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es
+ And dupp'd the chamber door,
+ Let in the maid, that out a maid
+ Never departed more.
+
+ King. Pretty Ophelia!
+ Oph. Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't!
+
+ [Sings] By Gis and by Saint Charity,
+ Alack, and fie for shame!
+ Young men will do't if they come to't
+ By Cock, they are to blame.
+
+ Quoth she, 'Before you tumbled me,
+ You promis'd me to wed.'
+
+ He answers:
+
+ 'So would I 'a' done, by yonder sun,
+ An thou hadst not come to my bed.'
+
+ King. How long hath she been thus?
+ Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot
+ choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold
+ground.
+ My brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good
+ counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night,
+sweet
+ ladies. Good night, good night. Exit
+ King. Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you.
+ [Exit Horatio.]
+
+ O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
+ All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
+ When sorrows come, they come not single spies.
+ But in battalions! First, her father slain;
+ Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
+ Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
+ Thick and and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
+ For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
+ In hugger-mugger to inter him; poor Ophelia
+ Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
+ Without the which we are pictures or mere beasts;
+ Last, and as much containing as all these,
+ Her brother is in secret come from France;
+ And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
+ Feeds on his wonder, keep, himself in clouds,
+ With pestilent speeches of his father's death,
+ Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
+ Will nothing stick our person to arraign
+ In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
+ Like to a murd'ring piece, in many places
+ Give me superfluous death. A noise within.
+ Queen. Alack, what noise is this?
+ King. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.
+
+ Enter a Messenger.
+
+ What is the matter?
+ Mess. Save Yourself, my lord:
+ The ocean, overpeering of his list,
+ Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste
+ Than Young Laertes, in a riotous head,
+ O'erbears Your offices. The rabble call him lord;
+ And, as the world were now but to begin,
+ Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
+ The ratifiers and props of every word,
+ They cry 'Choose we! Laertes shall be king!'
+ Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds,
+ 'Laertes shall be king! Laertes king!'
+ A noise within.
+ Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
+ O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!
+ King. The doors are broke.
+
+ Enter Laertes with others.
+
+ Laer. Where is this king?- Sirs, staid you all without.
+ All. No, let's come in!
+ Laer. I pray you give me leave.
+ All. We will, we will!
+ Laer. I thank you. Keep the door. [Exeunt his Followers.]
+ O thou vile king,
+ Give me my father!
+ Queen. Calmly, good Laertes.
+ Laer. That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard;
+ Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot
+ Even here between the chaste unsmirched brows
+ Of my true mother.
+ King. What is the cause, Laertes,
+ That thy rebellion looks so giantlike?
+ Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person.
+ There's such divinity doth hedge a king
+ That treason can but peep to what it would,
+ Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes,
+ Why thou art thus incens'd. Let him go, Gertrude.
+ Speak, man.
+ Laer. Where is my father?
+ King. Dead.
+ Queen. But not by him!
+ King. Let him demand his fill.
+ Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:
+ To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil
+ Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
+ I dare damnation. To this point I stand,
+ That both the world, I give to negligence,
+ Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd
+ Most throughly for my father.
+ King. Who shall stay you?
+ Laer. My will, not all the world!
+ And for my means, I'll husband them so well
+ They shall go far with little.
+ King. Good Laertes,
+ If you desire to know the certainty
+ Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge
+ That sweepstake you will draw both friend and foe,
+ Winner and loser?
+ Laer. None but his enemies.
+ King. Will you know them then?
+ Laer. To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms
+ And, like the kind life-rend'ring pelican,
+ Repast them with my blood.
+ King. Why, now You speak
+ Like a good child and a true gentleman.
+ That I am guiltless of your father's death,
+ And am most sensibly in grief for it,
+ It shall as level to your judgment pierce
+ As day does to your eye.
+ A noise within: 'Let her come in.'
+ Laer. How now? What noise is that?
+
+ Enter Ophelia.
+
+ O heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt
+ Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
+ By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight
+ Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
+ Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
+ O heavens! is't possible a young maid's wits
+ Should be as mortal as an old man's life?
+ Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
+ It sends some precious instance of itself
+ After the thing it loves.
+
+ Oph. (sings)
+ They bore him barefac'd on the bier
+ (Hey non nony, nony, hey nony)
+ And in his grave rain'd many a tear.
+
+ Fare you well, my dove!
+ Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
+ It could not move thus.
+ Oph. You must sing 'A-down a-down, and you call him a-down-a.'
+O,
+ how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole
+his
+ master's daughter.
+ Laer. This nothing's more than matter.
+ Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love,
+ remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
+ Laer. A document in madness! Thoughts and remembrance fitted.
+ Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for
+you,
+ and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o'
+Sundays.
+ O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There's a daisy.
+I
+ would give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my
+father
+ died. They say he made a good end.
+
+ [Sings] For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
+
+ Laer. Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
+ She turns to favour and to prettiness.
+ Oph. (sings)
+ And will he not come again?
+ And will he not come again?
+ No, no, he is dead;
+ Go to thy deathbed;
+ He never will come again.
+
+ His beard was as white as snow,
+ All flaxen was his poll.
+ He is gone, he is gone,
+ And we cast away moan.
+ God 'a'mercy on his soul!
+
+ And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God b' wi' you.
+Exit.
+ Laer. Do you see this, O God?
+ King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
+ Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
+ Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will,
+ And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me.
+ If by direct or by collateral hand
+ They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give,
+ Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours,
+ To you in satisfaction; but if not,
+ Be you content to lend your patience to us,
+ And we shall jointly labour with your soul
+ To give it due content.
+ Laer. Let this be so.
+ His means of death, his obscure funeral-
+ No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
+ No noble rite nor formal ostentation,-
+ Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth,
+ That I must call't in question.
+ King. So you shall;
+ And where th' offence is let the great axe fall.
+ I pray you go with me.
+ Exeunt
+
+
+
+
+<>
+
+
+
+Scene VI.
+Elsinore. Another room in the Castle.
+
+Enter Horatio with an Attendant.
+
+ Hor. What are they that would speak with me?
+ Servant. Seafaring men, sir. They say they have letters for
+you.
+ Hor. Let them come in.
+ [Exit Attendant.]
+ I do not know from what part of the world
+ I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.
+
+ Enter Sailors.
+
+ Sailor. God bless you, sir.
+ Hor. Let him bless thee too.
+ Sailor. 'A shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for
+you,
+ sir,- it comes from th' ambassador that was bound for
+England- if
+ your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.
+ Hor. (reads the letter) 'Horatio, when thou shalt have
+overlook'd
+ this, give these fellows some means to the King. They have
+ letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of
+
+ very warlike appointment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too
+ slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the
+grapple I
+ boarded them. On the instant they got clear of our ship; so I
+ alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like
+thieves
+ of mercy; but they knew what they did: I am to do a good turn
+for
+ them. Let the King have the letters I have sent, and repair
+thou
+ to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I have
+words
+ to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much
+too
+ light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will
+bring
+ thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their
+course
+ for England. Of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell.
+ 'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.'
+
+ Come, I will give you way for these your letters,
+ And do't the speedier that you may direct me
+ To him from whom you brought them. Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+<>
+
+
+
+Scene VII.
+Elsinore. Another room in the Castle.
+
+Enter King and Laertes.
+
+ King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal,
+ And You must put me in your heart for friend,
+ Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
+ That he which hath your noble father slain
+ Pursued my life.
+ Laer. It well appears. But tell me
+ Why you proceeded not against these feats
+ So crimeful and so capital in nature,
+ As by your safety, wisdom, all things else,
+ You mainly were stirr'd up.
+ King. O, for two special reasons,
+ Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
+ But yet to me they are strong. The Queen his mother
+ Lives almost by his looks; and for myself,-
+ My virtue or my plague, be it either which,-
+ She's so conjunctive to my life and soul
+ That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
+ I could not but by her. The other motive
+ Why to a public count I might not go
+ Is the great love the general gender bear him,
+ Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
+ Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
+ Convert his gives to graces; so that my arrows,
+ Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
+ Would have reverted to my bow again,
+ And not where I had aim'd them.
+ Laer. And so have I a noble father lost;
+ A sister driven into desp'rate terms,
+ Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
+ Stood challenger on mount of all the age
+ For her perfections. But my revenge will come.
+ King. Break not your sleeps for that. You must not think
+ That we are made of stuff so flat and dull
+ That we can let our beard be shook with danger,
+ And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more.
+ I lov'd your father, and we love ourself,
+ And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine-
+
+ Enter a Messenger with letters.
+
+ How now? What news?
+ Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet:
+ This to your Majesty; this to the Queen.
+ King. From Hamlet? Who brought them?
+ Mess. Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not.
+ They were given me by Claudio; he receiv'd them
+ Of him that brought them.
+ King. Laertes, you shall hear them.
+ Leave us.
+ Exit Messenger.
+ [Reads]'High and Mighty,-You shall know I am set naked on
+your
+ kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes;
+ when I shall (first asking your pardon thereunto) recount the
+ occasion of my sudden and more strange return.
+ 'HAMLET.'
+ What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?
+ Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
+ Laer. Know you the hand?
+ King. 'Tis Hamlet's character. 'Naked!'
+ And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.'
+ Can you advise me?
+ Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come!
+ It warms the very sickness in my heart
+ That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
+ 'Thus didest thou.'
+ King. If it be so, Laertes
+ (As how should it be so? how otherwise?),
+ Will you be rul'd by me?
+ Laer. Ay my lord,
+ So you will not o'errule me to a peace.
+ King. To thine own peace. If he be now return'd
+ As checking at his voyage, and that he means
+ No more to undertake it, I will work him
+ To exploit now ripe in my device,
+ Under the which he shall not choose but fall;
+ And for his death no wind shall breathe
+ But even his mother shall uncharge the practice
+ And call it accident.
+ Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd;
+ The rather, if you could devise it so
+ That I might be the organ.
+ King. It falls right.
+ You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
+ And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
+ Wherein they say you shine, Your sum of parts
+ Did not together pluck such envy from him
+ As did that one; and that, in my regard,
+ Of the unworthiest siege.
+ Laer. What part is that, my lord?
+ King. A very riband in the cap of youth-
+ Yet needfull too; for youth no less becomes
+ The light and careless livery that it wears
+ Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
+ Importing health and graveness. Two months since
+ Here was a gentleman of Normandy.
+ I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French,
+ And they can well on horseback; but this gallant
+ Had witchcraft in't. He grew unto his seat,
+ And to such wondrous doing brought his horse
+ As had he been incorps'd and demi-natur'd
+ With the brave beast. So far he topp'd my thought
+ That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
+ Come short of what he did.
+ Laer. A Norman was't?
+ King. A Norman.
+ Laer. Upon my life, Lamound.
+ King. The very same.
+ Laer. I know him well. He is the broach indeed
+ And gem of all the nation.
+ King. He made confession of you;
+ And gave you such a masterly report
+ For art and exercise in your defence,
+ And for your rapier most especially,
+ That he cried out 'twould be a sight indeed
+ If one could match you. The scrimers of their nation
+ He swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
+ If you oppos'd them. Sir, this report of his
+ Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy
+ That he could nothing do but wish and beg
+ Your sudden coming o'er to play with you.
+ Now, out of this-
+ Laer. What out of this, my lord?
+ King. Laertes, was your father dear to you?
+ Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
+ A face without a heart,'
+ Laer. Why ask you this?
+ King. Not that I think you did not love your father;
+ But that I know love is begun by time,
+ And that I see, in passages of proof,
+ Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
+ There lives within the very flame of love
+ A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it;
+ And nothing is at a like goodness still;
+ For goodness, growing to a plurisy,
+ Dies in his own too-much. That we would do,
+ We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes,
+ And hath abatements and delays as many
+ As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
+ And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh,
+ That hurts by easing. But to the quick o' th' ulcer!
+ Hamlet comes back. What would you undertake
+ To show yourself your father's son in deed
+ More than in words?
+ Laer. To cut his throat i' th' church!
+ King. No place indeed should murther sanctuarize;
+ Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
+ Will you do this? Keep close within your chamber.
+ Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home.
+ We'll put on those shall praise your excellence
+ And set a double varnish on the fame
+ The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together
+ And wager on your heads. He, being remiss,
+ Most generous, and free from all contriving,
+ Will not peruse the foils; so that with ease,
+ Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
+ A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice,
+ Requite him for your father.
+ Laer. I will do't!
+ And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword.
+ I bought an unction of a mountebank,
+ So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
+ Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
+ Collected from all simples that have virtue
+ Under the moon, can save the thing from death
+ This is but scratch'd withal. I'll touch my point
+ With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
+ It may be death.
+ King. Let's further think of this,
+ Weigh what convenience both of time and means
+ May fit us to our shape. If this should fall,
+ And that our drift look through our bad performance.
+ 'Twere better not assay'd. Therefore this project
+ Should have a back or second, that might hold
+ If this did blast in proof. Soft! let me see.
+ We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings-
+ I ha't!
+ When in your motion you are hot and dry-
+ As make your bouts more violent to that end-
+ And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepar'd him
+ A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
+ If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
+ Our purpose may hold there.- But stay, what noise,
+
+ Enter Queen.
+
+ How now, sweet queen?
+ Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
+ So fast they follow. Your sister's drown'd, Laertes.
+ Laer. Drown'd! O, where?
+ Queen. There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
+ That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.
+ There with fantastic garlands did she come
+ Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,
+ That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
+ But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them.
+ There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds
+ Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke,
+ When down her weedy trophies and herself
+ Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide
+ And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up;
+ Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes,
+ As one incapable of her own distress,
+ Or like a creature native and indued
+ Unto that element; but long it could not be
+ Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
+ Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
+ To muddy death.
+ Laer. Alas, then she is drown'd?
+ Queen. Drown'd, drown'd.
+ Laer. Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
+ And therefore I forbid my tears; but yet
+ It is our trick; nature her custom holds,
+ Let shame say what it will. When these are gone,
+ The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord.
+ I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze
+ But that this folly douts it. Exit.
+ King. Let's follow, Gertrude.
+ How much I had to do to calm his rage I
+ Now fear I this will give it start again;
+ Therefore let's follow.
+ Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+<>
+
+
+
+ACT V. Scene I.
+Elsinore. A churchyard.
+
+Enter two Clowns, [with spades and pickaxes].
+
+ Clown. Is she to be buried in Christian burial when she
+wilfully
+ seeks her own salvation?
+ Other. I tell thee she is; therefore make her grave straight.
+ The crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian burial.
+ Clown. How can that be, unless she drown'd herself in her own
+ defence?
+ Other. Why, 'tis found so.
+ Clown. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here
+lies
+ the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act; and
+an
+ act hath three branches-it is to act, to do, and to perform;
+ argal, she drown'd herself wittingly.
+ Other. Nay, but hear you, Goodman Delver!
+ Clown. Give me leave. Here lies the water; good. Here stands
+the
+ man; good. If the man go to this water and drown himself, it
+is,
+ will he nill he, he goes- mark you that. But if the water
+come to
+ him and drown him, he drowns not himself. Argal, he that is
+not
+ guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.
+ Other. But is this law?
+ Clown. Ay, marry, is't- crowner's quest law.
+ Other. Will you ha' the truth an't? If this had not been a
+ gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian
+burial.
+ Clown. Why, there thou say'st! And the more pity that great
+folk
+ should have count'nance in this world to drown or hang
+themselves
+ more than their even-Christian. Come, my spade! There is no
+ ancient gentlemen but gard'ners, ditchers, and grave-makers.
+They
+ hold up Adam's profession.
+ Other. Was he a gentleman?
+ Clown. 'A was the first that ever bore arms.
+ Other. Why, he had none.
+ Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the
+Scripture?
+ The Scripture says Adam digg'd. Could he dig without arms?
+I'll
+ put another question to thee. If thou answerest me not to the
+ purpose, confess thyself-
+ Other. Go to!
+ Clown. What is he that builds stronger than either the mason,
+the
+ shipwright, or the carpenter?
+ Other. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand
+ tenants.
+ Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith. The gallows does
+well.
+ But how does it well? It does well to those that do ill. Now,
+ thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the
+ church. Argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again,
+come!
+ Other. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a
+ carpenter?
+ Clown. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.
+ Other. Marry, now I can tell!
+ Clown. To't.
+ Other. Mass, I cannot tell.
+
+ Enter Hamlet and Horatio afar off.
+
+ Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass
+will
+ not mend his pace with beating; and when you are ask'd this
+ question next, say 'a grave-maker.' The houses he makes lasts
+ till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan; fetch me a stoup of
+ liquor.
+ [Exit Second Clown.]
+
+
+ [Clown digs and] sings.
+
+ In youth when I did love, did love,
+ Methought it was very sweet;
+ To contract- O- the time for- a- my behove,
+ O, methought there- a- was nothing- a- meet.
+
+ Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings
+at
+ grave-making?
+ Hor. Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
+ Ham. 'Tis e'en so. The hand of little employment hath the
+daintier
+ sense.
+ Clown. (sings)
+ But age with his stealing steps
+ Hath clawed me in his clutch,
+ And hath shipped me intil the land,
+ As if I had never been such.
+ [Throws up a skull.]
+
+ Ham. That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. How
+the
+ knave jowls it to the ground,as if 'twere Cain's jawbone,
+that
+ did the first murther! This might be the pate of a
+Politician,
+ which this ass now o'erreaches; one that would circumvent
+God,
+ might it not?
+ Hor. It might, my lord.
+ Ham. Or of a courtier, which could say 'Good morrow, sweet
+lord!
+ How dost thou, good lord?' This might be my Lord Such-a-one,
+that
+ prais'd my Lord Such-a-one's horse when he meant to beg it-
+might
+ it not?
+ Hor. Ay, my lord.
+ Ham. Why, e'en so! and now my Lady Worm's, chapless, and
+knock'd
+ about the mazzard with a sexton's spade. Here's fine
+revolution,
+ and we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more
+the
+ breeding but to play at loggets with 'em? Mine ache to think
+ on't.
+ Clown. (Sings)
+ A pickaxe and a spade, a spade,
+ For and a shrouding sheet;
+ O, a Pit of clay for to be made
+ For such a guest is meet.
+ Throws up [another skull].
+
+ Ham. There's another. Why may not that be the skull of a
+lawyer?
+ Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his
+tenures,
+ and his tricks? Why does he suffer this rude knave now to
+knock
+ him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell
+him
+ of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in's time
+a
+ great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances,
+his
+ fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries. Is this the fine
+of
+ his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his
+fine
+ pate full of fine dirt? Will his vouchers vouch him no more
+of
+ his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and
+breadth
+ of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands
+will
+ scarcely lie in this box; and must th' inheritor himself have
+no
+ more, ha?
+ Hor. Not a jot more, my lord.
+ Ham. Is not parchment made of sheepskins?
+ Hor. Ay, my lord, And of calveskins too.
+ Ham. They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in
+that. I
+ will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah?
+ Clown. Mine, sir.
+
+ [Sings] O, a pit of clay for to be made
+ For such a guest is meet.
+
+ Ham. I think it be thine indeed, for thou liest in't.
+ Clown. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore 'tis not yours.
+ For my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.
+ Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine. 'Tis
+for
+ the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.
+ Clown. 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away again from me to you.
+ Ham. What man dost thou dig it for?
+ Clown. For no man, sir.
+ Ham. What woman then?
+ Clown. For none neither.
+ Ham. Who is to be buried in't?
+ Clown. One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's
+dead.
+ Ham. How absolute the knave is! We must speak by the card, or
+ equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, this three
+years
+ I have taken note of it, the age is grown so picked that the
+toe
+ of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier he
+galls
+ his kibe.- How long hast thou been a grave-maker?
+ Clown. Of all the days i' th' year, I came to't that day that
+our
+ last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.
+ Ham. How long is that since?
+ Clown. Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was
+the
+ very day that young Hamlet was born- he that is mad, and sent
+ into England.
+ Ham. Ay, marry, why was be sent into England?
+ Clown. Why, because 'a was mad. 'A shall recover his wits
+there;
+ or, if 'a do not, 'tis no great matter there.
+ Ham. Why?
+ Clown. 'Twill not he seen in him there. There the men are as
+mad as
+ he.
+ Ham. How came he mad?
+ Clown. Very strangely, they say.
+ Ham. How strangely?
+ Clown. Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
+ Ham. Upon what ground?
+ Clown. Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton here, man and
+boy
+ thirty years.
+ Ham. How long will a man lie i' th' earth ere he rot?
+ Clown. Faith, if 'a be not rotten before 'a die (as we have
+many
+ pocky corses now-a-days that will scarce hold the laying in,
+I
+ will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner will
+last
+ you nine year.
+ Ham. Why he more than another?
+ Clown. Why, sir, his hide is so tann'd with his trade that 'a
+will
+ keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore
+decayer of
+ your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull now. This skull hath
+lien
+ you i' th' earth three-and-twenty years.
+ Ham. Whose was it?
+ Clown. A whoreson, mad fellow's it was. Whose do you think it
+was?
+ Ham. Nay, I know not.
+ Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! 'A pour'd a flagon
+of
+ Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's
+ skull, the King's jester.
+ Ham. This?
+ Clown. E'en that.
+ Ham. Let me see. [Takes the skull.] Alas, poor Yorick! I knew
+him,
+ Horatio. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.
+He
+ hath borne me on his back a thousand times. And now how
+abhorred
+ in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung
+those
+ lips that I have kiss'd I know not how oft. Where be your
+gibes
+ now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment that
+ were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock
+your
+ own grinning? Quite chap- fall'n? Now get you to my lady's
+ chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this
+ favour she must come. Make her laugh at that. Prithee,
+Horatio,
+ tell me one thing.
+ Hor. What's that, my lord?
+ Ham. Dost thou think Alexander look'd o' this fashion i' th'
+earth?
+ Hor. E'en so.
+ Ham. And smelt so? Pah!
+ [Puts down the skull.]
+ Hor. E'en so, my lord.
+ Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not
+ imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till he find it
+ stopping a bunghole?
+ Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.
+ Ham. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with
+modesty
+ enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus: Alexander died,
+ Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust
+is
+ earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam (whereto
+he
+ was converted) might they not stop a beer barrel?
+ Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
+ Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
+ O, that that earth which kept the world in awe
+ Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw!
+ But soft! but soft! aside! Here comes the King-
+
+ Enter [priests with] a coffin [in funeral procession], King,
+ Queen, Laertes, with Lords attendant.]
+
+ The Queen, the courtiers. Who is this they follow?
+ And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken
+ The corse they follow did with desp'rate hand
+ Fordo it own life. 'Twas of some estate.
+ Couch we awhile, and mark.
+ [Retires with Horatio.]
+
+ Laer. What ceremony else?
+ Ham. That is Laertes,
+ A very noble youth. Mark.
+ Laer. What ceremony else?
+ Priest. Her obsequies have been as far enlarg'd
+ As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful;
+ And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
+ She should in ground unsanctified have lodg'd
+ Till the last trumpet. For charitable prayers,
+ Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her.
+ Yet here she is allow'd her virgin rites,
+ Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home
+ Of bell and burial.
+ Laer. Must there no more be done?
+ Priest. No more be done.
+ We should profane the service of the dead
+ To sing a requiem and such rest to her
+ As to peace-parted souls.
+ Laer. Lay her i' th' earth;
+ And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
+ May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,
+ A minist'ring angel shall my sister be
+ When thou liest howling.
+ Ham. What, the fair Ophelia?
+ Queen. Sweets to the sweet! Farewell.
+ [Scatters flowers.]
+ I hop'd thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife;
+ I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
+ And not have strew'd thy grave.
+ Laer. O, treble woe
+ Fall ten times treble on that cursed head
+ Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
+ Depriv'd thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,
+ Till I have caught her once more in mine arms.
+ Leaps in the grave.
+ Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead
+ Till of this flat a mountain you have made
+ T' o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head
+ Of blue Olympus.
+ Ham. [comes forward] What is he whose grief
+ Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
+ Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand
+ Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
+ Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps in after Laertes.
+ Laer. The devil take thy soul!
+ [Grapples with him].
+ Ham. Thou pray'st not well.
+ I prithee take thy fingers from my throat;
+ For, though I am not splenitive and rash,
+ Yet have I in me something dangerous,
+ Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand!
+ King. Pluck them asunder.
+ Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet!
+ All. Gentlemen!
+ Hor. Good my lord, be quiet.
+ [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the
+ grave.]
+ Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme
+ Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
+ Queen. O my son, what theme?
+ Ham. I lov'd Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers
+ Could not (with all their quantity of love)
+ Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?
+ King. O, he is mad, Laertes.
+ Queen. For love of God, forbear him!
+ Ham. 'Swounds, show me what thou't do.
+ Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
+ Woo't drink up esill? eat a crocodile?
+ I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
+ To outface me with leaping in her grave?
+ Be buried quick with her, and so will I.
+ And if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
+ Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
+ Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
+ Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
+ I'll rant as well as thou.
+ Queen. This is mere madness;
+ And thus a while the fit will work on him.
+ Anon, as patient as the female dove
+ When that her golden couplets are disclos'd,
+ His silence will sit drooping.
+ Ham. Hear you, sir!
+ What is the reason that you use me thus?
+ I lov'd you ever. But it is no matter.
+ Let Hercules himself do what he may,
+ The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
+Exit.
+ King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him.
+ Exit Horatio.
+ [To Laertes] Strengthen your patience in our last night's
+speech.
+ We'll put the matter to the present push.-
+ Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.-
+ This grave shall have a living monument.
+ An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
+ Till then in patience our proceeding be.
+ Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+Scene II.
+Elsinore. A hall in the Castle.
+
+Enter Hamlet and Horatio.
+
+ Ham. So much for this, sir; now shall you see the other.
+ You do remember all the circumstance?
+ Hor. Remember it, my lord!
+ Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting
+ That would not let me sleep. Methought I lay
+ Worse than the mutinies in the bilboes. Rashly-
+ And prais'd be rashness for it; let us know,
+ Our indiscretion sometime serves us well
+ When our deep plots do pall; and that should learn us
+ There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
+ Rough-hew them how we will-
+ Hor. That is most certain.
+ Ham. Up from my cabin,
+ My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark
+ Grop'd I to find out them; had my desire,
+ Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew
+ To mine own room again; making so bold
+ (My fears forgetting manners) to unseal
+ Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio
+ (O royal knavery!), an exact command,
+ Larded with many several sorts of reasons,
+ Importing Denmark's health, and England's too,
+ With, hoo! such bugs and goblins in my life-
+ That, on the supervise, no leisure bated,
+ No, not to stay the finding of the axe,
+ My head should be struck off.
+ Hor. Is't possible?
+ Ham. Here's the commission; read it at more leisure.
+ But wilt thou bear me how I did proceed?
+ Hor. I beseech you.
+ Ham. Being thus benetted round with villanies,
+ Or I could make a prologue to my brains,
+ They had begun the play. I sat me down;
+ Devis'd a new commission; wrote it fair.
+ I once did hold it, as our statists do,
+ A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much
+ How to forget that learning; but, sir, now
+ It did me yeoman's service. Wilt thou know
+ Th' effect of what I wrote?
+ Hor. Ay, good my lord.
+ Ham. An earnest conjuration from the King,
+ As England was his faithful tributary,
+ As love between them like the palm might flourish,
+ As peace should still her wheaten garland wear
+ And stand a comma 'tween their amities,
+ And many such-like as's of great charge,
+ That, on the view and knowing of these contents,
+ Without debatement further, more or less,
+ He should the bearers put to sudden death,
+ Not shriving time allow'd.
+ Hor. How was this seal'd?
+ Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.
+ I had my father's signet in my purse,
+ Which was the model of that Danish seal;
+ Folded the writ up in the form of th' other,
+ Subscrib'd it, gave't th' impression, plac'd it safely,
+ The changeling never known. Now, the next day
+ Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent
+ Thou know'st already.
+ Hor. So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.
+ Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this employment!
+ They are not near my conscience; their defeat
+ Does by their own insinuation grow.
+ 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes
+ Between the pass and fell incensed points
+ Of mighty opposites.
+ Hor. Why, what a king is this!
+ Ham. Does it not, thinks't thee, stand me now upon-
+ He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother;
+ Popp'd in between th' election and my hopes;
+ Thrown out his angle for my proper life,
+ And with such coz'nage- is't not perfect conscience
+ To quit him with this arm? And is't not to be damn'd
+ To let this canker of our nature come
+ In further evil?
+ Hor. It must be shortly known to him from England
+ What is the issue of the business there.
+ Ham. It will be short; the interim is mine,
+ And a man's life is no more than to say 'one.'
+ But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
+ That to Laertes I forgot myself,
+ For by the image of my cause I see
+ The portraiture of his. I'll court his favours.
+ But sure the bravery of his grief did put me
+ Into a tow'ring passion.
+ Hor. Peace! Who comes here?
+
+ Enter young Osric, a courtier.
+
+ Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.
+ Ham. I humbly thank you, sir. [Aside to Horatio] Dost know this
+ waterfly?
+ Hor. [aside to Hamlet] No, my good lord.
+ Ham. [aside to Horatio] Thy state is the more gracious; for
+'tis a
+ vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile. Let a beast
+be
+ lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess.
+'Tis
+ a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt.
+
+ Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should
+impart
+ a thing to you from his Majesty.
+ Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit. Put
+your
+ bonnet to his right use. 'Tis for the head.
+ Osr. I thank your lordship, it is very hot.
+ Ham. No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly.
+ Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.
+ Ham. But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my
+complexion.
+ Osr. Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry, as 'twere- I
+cannot
+ tell how. But, my lord, his Majesty bade me signify to you
+that
+ he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the
+matter-
+ Ham. I beseech you remember.
+ [Hamlet moves him to put on his hat.]
+ Osr. Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here
+is
+ newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute
+gentleman,
+ full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and
+ great showing. Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the
+card
+ or calendar of gentry; for you shall find in him the
+continent of
+ what part a gentleman would see.
+ Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you; though, I
+
+ know, to divide him inventorially would dozy th' arithmetic
+of
+ memory, and yet but yaw neither in respect of his quick sail.
+ But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of
+great
+ article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to
+make
+ true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who
+else
+ would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more.
+ Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.
+ Ham. The concernancy, sir? Why do we wrap the gentleman in our
+more
+ rawer breath?
+ Osr. Sir?
+ Hor [aside to Hamlet] Is't not possible to understand in
+another
+ tongue? You will do't, sir, really.
+ Ham. What imports the nomination of this gentleman?
+ Osr. Of Laertes?
+ Hor. [aside] His purse is empty already. All's golden words are
+ spent.
+ Ham. Of him, sir.
+ Osr. I know you are not ignorant-
+ Ham. I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would
+not
+ much approve me. Well, sir?
+ Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is-
+ Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in
+ excellence; but to know a man well were to know himself.
+ Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on
+him
+ by them, in his meed he's unfellowed.
+ Ham. What's his weapon?
+ Osr. Rapier and dagger.
+ Ham. That's two of his weapons- but well.
+ Osr. The King, sir, hath wager'd with him six Barbary horses;
+ against the which he has impon'd, as I take it, six French
+ rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers,
+and
+ so. Three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy,
+ very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of
+ very liberal conceit.
+ Ham. What call you the carriages?
+ Hor. [aside to Hamlet] I knew you must be edified by the
+margent
+ ere you had done.
+ Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers.
+ Ham. The phrase would be more germane to the matter if we could
+ carry cannon by our sides. I would it might be hangers till
+then.
+ But on! Six Barbary horses against six French swords, their
+ assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages: that's the
+French
+ bet against the Danish. Why is this all impon'd, as you call
+it?
+ Osr. The King, sir, hath laid that, in a dozen passes between
+ yourself and him, he shall not exceed you three hits; he hath
+ laid on twelve for nine, and it would come to immediate trial
+ if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer.
+ Ham. How if I answer no?
+ Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.
+ Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall. If it please his
+Majesty,
+ it is the breathing time of day with me. Let the foils be
+ brought, the gentleman willing, and the King hold his
+purpose,
+ I will win for him if I can; if not, I will gain nothing but
+my
+ shame and the odd hits.
+ Osr. Shall I redeliver you e'en so?
+ Ham. To this effect, sir, after what flourish your nature will.
+ Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship.
+ Ham. Yours, yours. [Exit Osric.] He does well to commend it
+ himself; there are no tongues else for's turn.
+ Hor. This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.
+ Ham. He did comply with his dug before he suck'd it. Thus has
+he,
+ and many more of the same bevy that I know the drossy age
+dotes
+ on, only got the tune of the time and outward habit of
+encounter-
+ a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through and
+ through the most fann'd and winnowed opinions; and do but
+blow
+ them to their trial-the bubbles are out,
+
+ Enter a Lord.
+
+ Lord. My lord, his Majesty commended him to you by young Osric,
+who
+ brings back to him, that you attend him in the hall. He sends
+to
+ know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you
+will
+ take longer time.
+ Ham. I am constant to my purposes; they follow the King's
+pleasure.
+ If his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now or whensoever,
+provided
+ I be so able as now.
+ Lord. The King and Queen and all are coming down.
+ Ham. In happy time.
+ Lord. The Queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to
+ Laertes before you fall to play.
+ Ham. She well instructs me.
+ [Exit Lord.]
+ Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord.
+ Ham. I do not think so. Since he went into France I have been
+in
+ continual practice. I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst
+not
+ think how ill all's here about my heart. But it is no matter.
+ Hor. Nay, good my lord -
+ Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gaingiving as
+ would perhaps trouble a woman.
+ Hor. If your mind dislike anything, obey it. I will forestall
+their
+ repair hither and say you are not fit.
+ Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury; there's a special providence
+in
+ the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it
+be
+ not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will
+come:
+ the readiness is all. Since no man knows aught of what he
+leaves,
+ what is't to leave betimes? Let be.
+
+ Enter King, Queen, Laertes, Osric, and Lords, with other
+ Attendants with foils and gauntlets.
+ A table and flagons of wine on it.
+
+ King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.
+ [The King puts Laertes' hand into Hamlet's.]
+ Ham. Give me your pardon, sir. I have done you wrong;
+ But pardon't, as you are a gentleman.
+ This presence knows,
+ And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd
+ With sore distraction. What I have done
+ That might your nature, honour, and exception
+ Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.
+ Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet.
+ If Hamlet from himself be taken away,
+ And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes,
+ Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
+ Who does it, then? His madness. If't be so,
+ Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd;
+ His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
+ Sir, in this audience,
+ Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil
+ Free me so far in your most generous thoughts
+ That I have shot my arrow o'er the house
+ And hurt my brother.
+ Laer. I am satisfied in nature,
+ Whose motive in this case should stir me most
+ To my revenge. But in my terms of honour
+ I stand aloof, and will no reconcilement
+ Till by some elder masters of known honour
+ I have a voice and precedent of peace
+ To keep my name ungor'd. But till that time
+ I do receive your offer'd love like love,
+ And will not wrong it.
+ Ham. I embrace it freely,
+ And will this brother's wager frankly play.
+ Give us the foils. Come on.
+ Laer. Come, one for me.
+ Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes. In mine ignorance
+ Your skill shall, like a star i' th' darkest night,
+ Stick fiery off indeed.
+ Laer. You mock me, sir.
+ Ham. No, by this hand.
+ King. Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet,
+ You know the wager?
+ Ham. Very well, my lord.
+ Your Grace has laid the odds o' th' weaker side.
+ King. I do not fear it, I have seen you both;
+ But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds.
+ Laer. This is too heavy; let me see another.
+ Ham. This likes me well. These foils have all a length?
+ Prepare to play.
+ Osr. Ay, my good lord.
+ King. Set me the stoups of wine upon that table.
+ If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
+ Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
+ Let all the battlements their ordnance fire;
+ The King shall drink to Hamlet's better breath,
+ And in the cup an union shall he throw
+ Richer than that which four successive kings
+ In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups;
+ And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
+ The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
+ The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth,
+ 'Now the King drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin.
+ And you the judges, bear a wary eye.
+ Ham. Come on, sir.
+ Laer. Come, my lord. They play.
+ Ham. One.
+ Laer. No.
+ Ham. Judgment!
+ Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit.
+ Laer. Well, again!
+ King. Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine;
+ Here's to thy health.
+ [Drum; trumpets sound; a piece goes off [within].
+ Give him the cup.
+ Ham. I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile.
+ Come. (They play.) Another hit. What say you?
+ Laer. A touch, a touch; I do confess't.
+ King. Our son shall win.
+ Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath.
+ Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows.
+ The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.
+ Ham. Good madam!
+ King. Gertrude, do not drink.
+ Queen. I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me. Drinks.
+ King. [aside] It is the poison'd cup; it is too late.
+ Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam; by-and-by.
+ Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face.
+ Laer. My lord, I'll hit him now.
+ King. I do not think't.
+ Laer. [aside] And yet it is almost against my conscience.
+ Ham. Come for the third, Laertes! You but dally.
+ Pray you pass with your best violence;
+ I am afeard you make a wanton of me.
+ Laer. Say you so? Come on. Play.
+ Osr. Nothing neither way.
+ Laer. Have at you now!
+ [Laertes wounds Hamlet; then] in scuffling, they
+ change rapiers, [and Hamlet wounds Laertes].
+ King. Part them! They are incens'd.
+ Ham. Nay come! again! The Queen falls.
+
+ Osr. Look to the Queen there, ho!
+ Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?
+ Osr. How is't, Laertes?
+ Laer. Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric.
+ I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.
+ Ham. How does the Queen?
+ King. She sounds to see them bleed.
+ Queen. No, no! the drink, the drink! O my dear Hamlet!
+ The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. [Dies.]
+ Ham. O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd.
+ Treachery! Seek it out.
+ [Laertes falls.]
+ Laer. It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain;
+ No medicine in the world can do thee good.
+ In thee there is not half an hour of life.
+ The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
+ Unbated and envenom'd. The foul practice
+ Hath turn'd itself on me. Lo, here I lie,
+ Never to rise again. Thy mother's poison'd.
+ I can no more. The King, the King's to blame.
+ Ham. The point envenom'd too?
+ Then, venom, to thy work. Hurts the King.
+ All. Treason! treason!
+ King. O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt.
+ Ham. Here, thou incestuous, murd'rous, damned Dane,
+ Drink off this potion! Is thy union here?
+ Follow my mother. King dies.
+ Laer. He is justly serv'd.
+ It is a poison temper'd by himself.
+ Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet.
+ Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,
+ Nor thine on me! Dies.
+ Ham. Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.
+ I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu!
+ You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
+ That are but mutes or audience to this act,
+ Had I but time (as this fell sergeant, Death,
+ Is strict in his arrest) O, I could tell you-
+ But let it be. Horatio, I am dead;
+ Thou liv'st; report me and my cause aright
+ To the unsatisfied.
+ Hor. Never believe it.
+ I am more an antique Roman than a Dane.
+ Here's yet some liquor left.
+ Ham. As th'art a man,
+ Give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I'll ha't.
+ O good Horatio, what a wounded name
+ (Things standing thus unknown) shall live behind me!
+ If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
+ Absent thee from felicity awhile,
+ And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
+ To tell my story. [March afar off, and shot within.]
+ What warlike noise is this?
+ Osr. Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland,
+ To the ambassadors of England gives
+ This warlike volley.
+ Ham. O, I die, Horatio!
+ The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit.
+ I cannot live to hear the news from England,
+ But I do prophesy th' election lights
+ On Fortinbras. He has my dying voice.
+ So tell him, with th' occurrents, more and less,
+ Which have solicited- the rest is silence. Dies.
+ Hor. Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince,
+ And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
+ [March within.]
+ Why does the drum come hither?
+
+ Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassadors, with Drum,
+ Colours, and Attendants.
+
+ Fort. Where is this sight?
+ Hor. What is it you will see?
+ If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.
+ Fort. This quarry cries on havoc. O proud Death,
+ What feast is toward in thine eternal cell
+ That thou so many princes at a shot
+ So bloodily hast struck.
+ Ambassador. The sight is dismal;
+ And our affairs from England come too late.
+ The ears are senseless that should give us hearing
+ To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd
+ That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead.
+ Where should we have our thanks?
+ Hor. Not from his mouth,
+ Had it th' ability of life to thank you.
+ He never gave commandment for their death.
+ But since, so jump upon this bloody question,
+ You from the Polack wars, and you from England,
+ Are here arriv'd, give order that these bodies
+ High on a stage be placed to the view;
+ And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
+ How these things came about. So shall you hear
+ Of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts;
+ Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters;
+ Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause;
+ And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
+ Fall'n on th' inventors' heads. All this can I
+ Truly deliver.
+ Fort. Let us haste to hear it,
+ And call the noblest to the audience.
+ For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune.
+ I have some rights of memory in this kingdom
+ Which now, to claim my vantage doth invite me.
+ Hor. Of that I shall have also cause to speak,
+ And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more.
+ But let this same be presently perform'd,
+ Even while men's minds are wild, lest more mischance
+ On plots and errors happen.
+ Fort. Let four captains
+ Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage;
+ For he was likely, had he been put on,
+ To have prov'd most royally; and for his passage
+ The soldiers' music and the rites of war
+ Speak loudly for him.
+ Take up the bodies. Such a sight as this
+ Becomes the field but here shows much amiss.
+ Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
+ Exeunt marching; after the which a peal of ordnance
+ are shot off.
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+<>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of this Etext of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, The Tragedy of
+Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
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diff --git a/notebooks/data/romeo_and_juliet.txt b/notebooks/data/romeo_and_juliet.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..349c7d8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/notebooks/data/romeo_and_juliet.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,12261 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Shakespeare's Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet
+
+This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
+at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
+you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
+before using this eBook.
+
+Title: Shakespeare's Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet
+
+Author: William Shakespeare
+
+Editor: W. J. Rolfe
+
+Release date: January 13, 2015 [eBook #47960]
+
+Language: English
+
+Credits: Produced by Fritz Ohrenschall, Sania Ali Mirza, Jane Robins
+ and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+ http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+ generously made available by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHAKESPEARE'S TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Fritz Ohrenschall, Sania Ali Mirza, Jane Robins
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+generously made available by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+ SHAKESPEARE'S
+
+ TRAGEDY OF
+
+ ROMEO AND JULIET
+
+
+ EDITED, WITH NOTES
+
+ BY
+
+ WILLIAM J. ROLFE, LITT.D.
+
+ FORMERLY HEAD MASTER OF THE HIGH SCHOOL
+ CAMBRIDGE, MASS.
+
+
+ _ILLUSTRATED_
+
+
+ NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO
+
+ AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1879 AND 1898, BY
+ HARPER & BROTHERS.
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1904 AND 1907, BY
+ WILLIAM J. ROLFE.
+
+ ROMEO AND JULIET.
+
+ W.P. 8
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+This edition of _Romeo and Juliet_, first published in 1879, is now
+thoroughly revised on the same general plan as its predecessors in the
+new series.
+
+While I have omitted most of the notes on textual variations, I have
+retained a sufficient number to illustrate the curious and significant
+differences between the first and second quartos. Among the many new
+notes are some calling attention to portions of the early draft of the
+play--some of them very bad--which Shakespeare left unchanged when he
+revised it.
+
+The references to Dowden in the notes are to his recent and valuable
+edition of the play, which I did not see until this of mine was on the
+point of going to the printer. The quotation on page 288 of the Appendix
+is from his _Shakspere: His Mind and Art_, which, by the way, was
+reprinted in this country at my suggestion.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ PAGE
+
+ INTRODUCTION TO ROMEO AND JULIET 9
+
+ The History of the Play 9
+
+ The Sources of the Plot 14
+
+ General Comments on the Play 17
+
+
+ ROMEO AND JULIET 27
+
+ Act I 29
+
+ Act II 58
+
+ Act III 85
+
+ Act IV 118
+
+ Act V 136
+
+
+ NOTES 157
+
+
+ APPENDIX
+
+ Concerning Arthur Brooke 275
+
+ Comments on Some of the Characters 278
+
+ The Time-Analysis of the Play 290
+
+ List of Characters in the Play 291
+
+
+ INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES EXPLAINED 293
+
+[Illustration: FUNERAL OF JULIET]
+
+[Illustration: Verona]
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO ROMEO AND JULIET
+
+THE HISTORY OF THE PLAY
+
+
+The earliest edition of _Romeo and Juliet_, so far as we know, was a
+quarto printed in 1597, the title-page of which asserts that "it hath
+been often (with great applause) plaid publiquely." A second quarto
+appeared in 1599, declared to be "newly corrected, augmented, and
+amended."
+
+Two other quartos appeared before the folio of 1623, one in 1609 and the
+other undated; and it is doubtful which was the earlier. The undated
+quarto is the first that bears the name of the author ("Written by W.
+_Shake-speare_"), but this does not occur in some copies of the edition.
+A fifth quarto was published in 1637.
+
+The first quarto is much shorter than the second, the former having only
+2232 lines, including the prologue, while the latter has 3007 lines
+(Daniel). Some editors believe that the first quarto gives the author's
+first draft of the play, and the second the form it took after he had
+revised and enlarged it; but the majority of the best critics agree
+substantially in the opinion that the first quarto was a pirated
+edition, and represents in an abbreviated and imperfect form the play
+subsequently printed in full in the second. The former was "made up
+partly from copies of portions of the original play, partly from
+recollection and from notes taken during the performance;" the latter
+was from an authentic copy, and a careful comparison of the text with
+the earlier one shows that in the meantime the play "underwent revision,
+received some slight augmentation, and in some few places must have been
+entirely rewritten." A marked instance of this rewriting--the only one
+of considerable length--is in ii. 6. 6-37, where the first quarto reads
+thus (spelling and pointing being modernized):--
+
+ _Jul._ Romeo.
+
+ _Rom._ My Juliet, welcome. As do waking eyes
+ Closed in Night's mists attend the frolick Day,
+ So Romeo hath expected Juliet,
+ And thou art come.
+
+ _Jul._ I am, if I be Day,
+ Come to my Sun: shine forth and make me fair.
+
+ _Rom._ All beauteous fairness dwelleth in thine eyes.
+
+ _Jul._ Romeo, from thine all brightness doth arise.
+
+ _Fri._ Come, wantons, come, the stealing hours do pass,
+ Defer embracements till some fitter time.
+ Part for a while, you shall not be alone
+ Till holy Church have joined ye both in one.
+
+ _Rom._ Lead, holy Father, all delay seems long.
+
+ _Jul._ Make haste, make haste, this lingering doth us wrong.
+
+For convenient comparison I quote the later text here:--
+
+ _Juliet._ Good even to my ghostly confessor.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
+
+ _Juliet._ As much to him, else is his thanks too much.
+
+ _Romeo._ Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
+ Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more
+ To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
+ This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
+ Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
+ Receive in either by this dear encounter.
+
+ _Juliet._ Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
+ Brags of his substance, not of ornament.
+ They are but beggars that can count their worth;
+ But my true love is grown to such excess
+ I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Come, come with me, and we will make short work;
+ For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone
+ Till holy church incorporate two in one.
+
+The "omission, mutilation, or botching" by which some German editors
+would explain all differences between the earlier and later texts will
+not suffice to account for such divergence as this. "The two dialogues
+do not differ merely in expressiveness and effect; they embody different
+conceptions of the characters;" and yet we cannot doubt that both were
+written by Shakespeare.
+
+But while the second quarto is "unquestionably our best authority" for
+the text of the play, it is certain that it "was not printed from the
+author's manuscript, but from a transcript, the writer of which was not
+only careless, but thought fit to take unwarrantable liberties with the
+text." The first quarto, with all its faults and imperfections, is often
+useful in the detection and correction of these errors and corruptions,
+and all the modern editors have made more or less use of its readings.
+
+The third quarto (1609) was a reprint of the second, from which it
+"differs by a few corrections, and more frequently by additional
+errors." It is from this edition that the text of the first folio is
+taken, with some changes, accidental or intentional, "all generally for
+the worse," except in the punctuation, which is more correct, and the
+stage directions, which are more complete, than in the quarto.
+
+The date of the first draft of the play has been much discussed, but
+cannot be said to have been settled. The majority of the editors believe
+that it was begun as early as 1561, but I think that most of them lay
+too much stress on the Nurse's reference (i. 3. 22, 35) to the
+"earthquake," which occurred "eleven years" earlier, and which these
+critics suppose to have been the one felt in England in 1580.
+
+Aside from this and other attempts to fix the date by external evidence
+of a doubtful character, the internal evidence confirms the opinion that
+the tragedy was an early work of the poet, and that it was subsequently
+"corrected, augmented, and amended." There is a good deal of rhyme, and
+much of it in the form of alternate rhyme. The alliteration, the
+frequent playing upon words, and the lyrical character of many passages
+also lead to the same conclusion.
+
+The latest editors agree substantially with this view. Herford says:
+"The evidence points to 1594-1595 as the time at which the play was
+substantially composed, though it is tolerably certain that some parts
+of our present text were written as late as 1596-1598, and possibly that
+others are as early as 1591." Dowden sums up the matter thus: "On the
+whole, we might place _Romeo and Juliet_, on grounds of internal
+evidence, near _The Rape of Lucrece_; portions may be earlier in date;
+certain passages of the revised version are certainly later; but I think
+that 1595 may serve as an approximation to a central date, and cannot be
+far astray."
+
+For myself, while agreeing substantially with these authorities, I think
+that a careful comparison of what are evidently the earliest portions
+of the text with similar work in _Love's Labour's Lost_ (a play revised
+like this, but retaining traces of the original form), _The Two
+Gentlemen of Verona_, and other plays which the critics generally assign
+to 1591 or 1592, proves conclusively that parts of _Romeo and Juliet_
+must be of quite as early a date.
+
+The earliest reference to the play in the literature of the time is in a
+sonnet to Shakespeare by John Weever, written probably in 1595 or 1596,
+though not published until 1599. After referring to _Venus and Adonis_
+and _Lucrece_, Weever adds:--
+
+ "_Romeo_, _Richard_, more whose names I know not,
+ Their sugred tongues and power attractive beuty
+ Say they are saints," etc.
+
+No other allusion of earlier date than the publication of the first
+quarto has been discovered.
+
+
+THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT
+
+Girolamo della Corte, in his _Storia di Verona_, 1594, relates the story
+of the play as a true event occurring in 1303; but the earlier annalists
+of the city are silent on the subject. A tale very similar, the scene of
+which is laid in Siena, appears in a collection of novels by Masuccio di
+Salerno, printed at Naples in 1476; but Luigi da Porto, in his _La
+Giulietta_,[1] published about 1530, is the first to call the lovers
+Romeo and Juliet, and to make them the children of the rival Veronese
+houses. The story was retold in French by Adrian Sevin, about 1542; and
+a poetical version of it was published at Venice in 1553. It is also
+found in Bandello's _Novelle_, 1554; and five years later Pierre
+Boisteau translated it, with some variations, into French in his
+_Histoire de Deux Amans_. The earliest English version of the romance
+appeared in 1562 in a poem by Arthur Brooke founded upon Boisteau's
+novel, and entitled _Romeus and Juliet_. A prose translation of
+Boisteau's novel was given in Paynter's _Palace of Pleasure_, in 1567.
+It was undoubtedly from these English sources, and chiefly from the poem
+by Brooke, that Shakespeare drew his material. It is to be noted,
+however, that Brooke speaks of having seen "the same argument lately set
+forth on stage"; and it is possible that this lost play may also have
+been known to Shakespeare, though we have no reason to suppose that he
+made any use of it. That he followed Brooke's poem rather than Paynter's
+prose version is evident from a careful comparison of the two with the
+play.
+
+Grant White remarks: "The tragedy follows the poem with a faithfulness
+which might be called slavish, were it not that any variation from the
+course of the old story was entirely unnecessary for the sake of
+dramatic interest, and were there not shown in the progress of the
+action, in the modification of one character and in the disposal of
+another, all peculiar to the play, self-reliant dramatic intuition of
+the highest order. For the rest, there is not a personage or a
+situation, hardly a speech, essential to Brooke's poem, which has not
+its counterpart--its exalted and glorified counterpart--in the
+tragedy.... In brief, _Romeo and Juliet_ owes to Shakespeare only its
+dramatic form and its poetic decoration. But what an exception is the
+latter! It is to say that the earth owes to the sun only its verdure and
+its flowers, the air only its perfume and its balm, the heavens only
+their azure and their glow. Yet this must not lead us to forget that the
+original tale is one of the most truthful and touching among the few
+that have entranced the ear and stirred the heart of the world for ages,
+or that in Shakespeare's transfiguration of it his fancy and his
+youthful fire had a much larger share than his philosophy or his
+imagination.
+
+"The only variations from the story in the play are the three which have
+just been alluded to: the compression of the action, which in the story
+occupies four or five months, to within as many days, thus adding
+impetuosity to a passion which had only depth, and enhancing dramatic
+effect by quickening truth to vividness; the conversion of Mercutio from
+a mere courtier, 'bolde emong the bashfull maydes,' 'courteous of his
+speech and pleasant of devise,' into that splendid union of the knight
+and the fine gentleman, in portraying which Shakespeare, with prophetic
+eye piercing a century, shows us the fire of faded chivalry expiring in
+a flash of wit; and the bringing-in of Paris (forgotten in the story
+after his bridal disappointment) to die at Juliet's bier by the hand of
+Romeo, thus gathering together all the threads of this love entanglement
+to be cut at once by Fate."
+
+[Footnote 1: A translation of _La Giulietta_, with an historical and
+critical introduction by me, was published in Boston, 1893.]
+
+
+GENERAL COMMENTS ON THE PLAY
+
+Coleridge, in his _Notes and Lectures upon Shakespeare_, says: "The
+stage in Shakespeare's time was a naked room with a blanket for a
+curtain, but he made it a field for monarchs. That law of unity which
+has its foundations, not in the factitious necessity of custom, but in
+nature itself, the unity of feeling, is everywhere and at all times
+observed by Shakespeare in his plays. Read _Romeo and Juliet_: all is
+youth and spring--youth with its follies, its virtues, its
+precipitancies; spring with its odours, its flowers, and its transiency.
+It is one and the same feeling that commences, goes through, and ends
+the play. The old men, the Capulets and the Montagues, are not common
+old men; they have an eagerness, a heartiness, a vehemence, the effect
+of spring; with Romeo, his change of passion, his sudden marriage, and
+his rash death, are all the effects of youth; whilst in Juliet love has
+all that is tender and melancholy in the nightingale, all that is
+voluptuous in the rose, with whatever is sweet in the freshness of
+spring; but it ends with a long deep sigh like the last breeze of the
+Italian evening."
+
+The play, like _The Merchant of Venice_, is thoroughly Italian in
+atmosphere and colour. The season, though Coleridge refers to it
+figuratively as spring, is really midsummer. The time is definitely
+fixed by the Nurse's talk about the age of Juliet. She asks Lady Capulet
+how long it is to Lammas-tide--that is, to August 1--and the reply is,
+"A fortnight and odd days"--sixteen or seventeen days we may suppose,
+making the time of the conversation not far from the middle of July.
+This is confirmed by allusions to the weather and other natural
+phenomena in the play. At the beginning of act iii, for instance,
+Benvolio says to his friends:--
+
+ "I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire;
+ The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
+ And if we meet we shall not scape a brawl,
+ For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring."
+
+When the Nurse goes on the errand to Romeo (ii. 4), Peter carries her
+fan, and she finds occasion to use it. "The nights are only softer days,
+not made for sleep, but for lingering in moonlit gardens, where the
+fruit-tree tops are tipped with silver and the nightingale sings on the
+pomegranate bough." It is only in the coolness of the dawn that Friar
+Laurence goes forth to gather herbs; and it is
+
+ "An hour before the worshipp'd sun
+ Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,"
+
+that we find Romeo wandering in the grove of sycamore, "with tears
+augmenting the fresh morning's dew," because Rosaline will not return
+his love.
+
+In one instance, overlooked by the commentators generally, Shakespeare
+seems to forget the time of year. In the masquerade scene (i. 5) Old
+Capulet bids the servants "quench the fire" because "the room is grown
+too hot." In Brooke's poem, where the action covers four or five months,
+this scene is in the winter. Shakespeare, in condensing the time to less
+than a single week in summer, neglected to omit this reference to a
+colder season.
+
+Aside from this little slip, the time is the Italian summer from first
+to last. And, as a French critic remarks, "the very form of the language
+comes from the South." The tale originated in Italy; "it breathes the
+very spirit of her national records, her old family feuds, the amorous
+and bloody intrigues which fill her annals. No one can fail to recognize
+Italy in its lyric rhythm, its blindness of passion, its blossoming and
+abundant vitality, in its brilliant imagery, its bold composition." All
+the characters are distinctively Italian. "In total effect," as another
+has said, "the play is so Italian that one may read it with increasing
+surprise and delight in Verona itself."
+
+Although, as I have said, it is doubtful whether the story has any
+historical basis, the Montagues and the Capulets were famous old
+families in Verona. Dante alludes to them in the _Purgatorio_ (vi. 107),
+though not as enemies:--
+
+ "Vieni a veder Montecchi e Cappelletti,
+ Monaldi e Filippeschi, uom senza cura,
+ Color già tristi, e costor con sospetti."[2]
+
+The palace of the Capulets is to this day pointed out in Verona. It is
+degraded to plebeian occupancy, and the only mark of its ancient dignity
+is the badge of the family, the _cap_ carved in stone on the inner side
+of the entrance to the court, which is of ample size, surrounded by
+buildings that probably formed the main part of the mansion, but are now
+divided into many tenements. The garden has disappeared, having been
+covered with other buildings centuries ago.
+
+The so-called "tomb of Juliet" is in a less disagreeable locality, but
+is unquestionably a fraud, though it has been exhibited for a century or
+two, and has received many tributes from credulous and sentimental
+tourists. It is in the garden of an ancient convent, and consists of an
+open, dilapidated stone sarcophagus (perhaps only an old horse-trough),
+without inscription or any authentic history. It is kept in a kind of
+shed, the walls of which are hung with faded wreaths and other mementoes
+from visitors. One pays twenty-five centesimi (five cents) for the
+privilege of inspecting it. Byron went to see it in 1816, and writes
+(November 6) to his sister Augusta: "I brought away four small pieces
+of it for you and the babes (at least the female part of them), and for
+Ada and her mother, if she will accept it from you. I thought the
+situation more appropriate to the history than if it had been less
+blighted. This struck me more than all the antiquities, more even than
+the amphitheatre." Maria Louisa, the French empress, got a piece of it,
+which she had made into hearts and other forms for bracelets and
+necklaces; and many other sentimental ladies followed the royal example
+before the mutilation of the relic was prohibited by its guardians.
+
+To return to the play--one would suppose that the keynote was struck
+with sufficient clearness in the prologue to indicate Shakespeare's
+purpose and the moral lesson that he meant to impress; but many of the
+critics have nevertheless failed to understand it. They have assumed
+that the misfortunes of the hero and heroine were mainly due to their
+own rashness or imprudence in yielding to the impulses of passion
+instead of obeying the dictates of reason. They think that the dramatist
+speaks through Friar Laurence when he warns them against haste in the
+marriage (ii. 6. 9 fol.):--
+
+ "These violent delights have violent ends,
+ And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
+ Which as they kiss consume; the sweetest honey
+ Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
+ And in the taste confounds the appetite.
+ Therefore love moderately, long love doth so;
+ Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow."
+
+But the venerable celibate speaks for himself and in keeping with the
+character, not for Shakespeare.
+
+Neither does the poet, as some believe, intend to read a lesson against
+clandestine marriage and disregard for the authority or approval of
+parents in the match. The Friar, even at the first suggestion of the
+hurried and secret marriage, does not oppose or discourage it on any
+such grounds; nor, in the closing scene, does he blame either the lovers
+or himself on that account. Nowhere in the play is there the slightest
+suggestion of so-called "poetic justice" or retribution in the fate that
+overtakes the unhappy pair.
+
+It is the parents, not the children, that have sinned, and the sin of
+the parents is visited upon their innocent offspring. This is the burden
+of the prologue; and it is most emphatically repeated at the close of
+the play.
+
+The feud of the two households and the civil strife that it has caused
+are the first things to which the attention of those who are to witness
+the play is called. Next they are told that the children of these two
+foes become lovers--not foolish, rash, imprudent lovers, not victims of
+disobedience to their parents, not in any way responsible for what they
+afterwards suffer--but "star-cross'd lovers." The fault is not in
+themselves, but in their stars--in their _fate_ as the offspring of
+these hostile parents. But their unfortunate and piteous overthrow is
+the means by which the fatal feud of the two families is brought to an
+end. The "death-mark'd love" of the children--love as pure as it was
+passionate, love true from first to last to the divine law of
+love--while by an evil destiny it brings death to themselves, involves
+also the death of the _hate_ which was the primal cause of all the
+tragic consequences.
+
+This is no less distinctly expressed in the last speeches of the play.
+After hearing the Friar's story, the Prince says:--
+
+ "Where be these enemies?--Capulet!--Montague!
+ See what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
+ That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!
+ And I, for winking at your discords too,
+ Have lost a brace of kinsmen; all are punish'd.
+
+ _Capulet._ O brother Montague, give me thy hand;
+ This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
+ Can I demand.
+
+ _Montague._ But I can give thee more;
+ For I will raise her statue in pure gold,
+ That while Verona by that name is known
+ There shall no figure at such rate be set
+ As that of true and faithful Juliet.
+
+ _Capulet._ As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie;
+ Poor sacrifices of our enmity!"
+
+It is the parents who are punished. The scourge is laid upon their
+_hate_, and it was the _love_ of their children by which Heaven found
+the means to wield that scourge. The Prince himself has a share in the
+penalty for tolerating the discords of the families. "We all," he says,
+"_all_ are punished." But the good Friar's hope, expressed when he
+consented to perform the marriage,--
+
+ "For this alliance may so happy prove
+ To turn your households' rancour to pure love,"--
+
+is now fulfilled. Both Capulet and Montague, as they join hands in amity
+over the dead bodies of their children, acknowledge the debt they owe to
+the "star-cross'd" love of those "poor sacrifices of their enmity." They
+vie with each other in doing honour to the guiltless victims of their
+"pernicious rage." Montague will raise the golden statue to Juliet, and
+Capulet promises as rich a monument to Romeo.
+
+Da Porto and Paynter and Brooke, in like manner, refer to the
+reconciliation of the rival families as the fortunate result of the
+tragic history. Da Porto says: "Their fathers, weeping over the bodies
+of their children and overcome by mutual pity, embraced each other; so
+that the long enmity between them and their houses, which neither the
+prayers of their friends, nor the menaces of the Prince, nor even time
+itself had been able to extinguish, was ended by the piteous death of
+the two lovers." As Paynter puts it, "The Montesches and Capellets
+poured forth such abundance of tears, as with the same they did evacuate
+their ancient grudge and choler, whereby they were then reconciled: and
+they which could not be brought to atonement[3] by any wisdom or human
+counsel were in the end vanquished and made friends by pity." So
+Brooke, in his lumbering verse:--
+
+ "The straungenes of the chaunce, when tryed was the truth,
+ The Montagewes and Capelets hath moved so to ruth,
+ That with their emptyed teares, theyr choler and theyr rage
+ Was emptied quite; and they whose wrath no wisdom could asswage,
+ Nor threatning of the prince, ne mynd of murthers donne
+ At length (so mighty Jove it would) by pitye they are wonne."
+
+And then the poem, like the play, ends with a reference to the
+monumental honour done to the lovers:
+
+ "And lest that length of time might from our myndes remove
+ The memory of so perfect, sound, and so approved love,
+ The bodies dead, removed from vaulte where they did dye,
+ In stately tombe, on pillers great of marble, rayse they hye.
+ On every syde above were set, and eke beneath,
+ Great store of cunning Epitaphes, in honor of theyr death.
+ And even at this day the tombe is to be seene;
+ So that among the monumentes that in Verona been,
+ There is no monument more worthy of the sight,
+ Then is the tombe of Juliet and Romeus her knight."
+
+[Footnote 2:
+
+ "Come see the Capulets and Montagues,--
+ Monaldi,--Filippeschi, reckless one!
+ These now in fear, already wretched those."
+
+ (Wright's translation.)
+]
+
+[Footnote 3: In the original sense of reconciliation; as in _Rich. III_.
+i. 3. 36:
+
+ "he desires to make atonement
+ Betwixt the Duke of Gloster and your brothers," etc.
+]
+
+
+
+
+ROMEO AND JULIET _DRAMATIS PERSONÆ_
+
+ ESCALUS, prince of Verona.
+ PARIS, a young nobleman, kinsman to the prince.
+ MONTAGUE, }
+ CAPULET, } heads of two houses at variance with each other.
+ An old man of the Capulet family.
+ ROMEO, son to Montague.
+ MERCUTIO, kinsman to the prince, and friend to Romeo.
+ BENVOLIO, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo.
+ TYBALT, nephew to Lady Capulet.
+ FRIAR LAURENCE, }
+ FRIAR JOHN, } Franciscans.
+ BALTHASAR, servant to Romeo.
+ SAMPSON, }
+ GREGORY, } servants to Capulet.
+ PETER, servant to Juliet's nurse.
+ ABRAM, servant to Montague.
+ An Apothecary.
+ Three Musicians.
+ Page to Paris; another Page; an Officer.
+
+ LADY MONTAGUE, wife to Montague.
+ LADY CAPULET, wife to Capulet.
+ JULIET, daughter to Capulet.
+ Nurse to Juliet.
+
+Citizens of Verona; Kinsfolk of both houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen,
+and Attendants.
+
+Chorus.
+
+SCENE: _Verona_; _Mantua_.
+
+[Illustration: THE "MEASURE"]
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+ Two households, both alike in dignity,
+ In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
+ From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
+ Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
+ From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
+ A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life,
+ Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows
+ Doth with their death bury their parents' strife.
+
+ The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
+ And the continuance of their parents' rage,
+ Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
+ Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage,
+ The which if you with patient ears attend,
+ What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I
+
+
+SCENE I. _Verona. A Public Place_.
+
+
+_Enter_ SAMPSON _and_ GREGORY, _of the house of Capulet, with swords and
+bucklers_
+
+ _Sampson._ Gregory, on my word, we'll not carry
+ coals.
+
+ _Gregory._ No, for then we should be colliers.
+
+ _Sampson._ I mean, an we be in choler we'll draw.
+
+ _Gregory._ Ay, while you live, draw your neck out
+ o' the collar.
+
+ _Sampson._ I strike quickly, being moved.
+
+ _Gregory._ But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
+
+ _Sampson._ A dog of the house of Montague moves
+ me. 10
+
+ _Gregory._ To move is to stir, and to be valiant is
+ to stand; therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st
+ away.
+
+ _Sampson._ A dog of that house shall move me to
+ stand; I will take the wall of any man or maid of
+ Montague's.
+
+ _Gregory._ That shows thee a weak slave; for the
+ weakest goes to the wall.
+
+ _Sampson._ True; and therefore women, being the
+ weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall. Therefore 20
+ I will push Montague's men from the wall, and
+ thrust his maids to the wall.
+
+ _Gregory._ The quarrel is between our masters and
+ us their men.
+
+ _Sampson._ 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant;
+ when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel
+ with the maids and cut off their heads.
+
+ _Gregory._ Draw thy tool; here comes two of the
+ house of the Montagues.
+
+ _Sampson._ My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I 30
+ will back thee.
+
+ _Gregory._ How? turn thy back and run?
+
+ _Sampson._ Fear me not.
+
+ _Gregory._ No, marry; I fear thee!
+
+ _Sampson._ Let us take the law of our sides; let
+ them begin.
+
+ _Gregory._ I will frown as I pass by, and let them
+ take it as they list.
+
+ _Sampson._ Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb
+ at them, which is a disgrace to them if they bear it. 40
+
+_Enter_ ABRAM _and_ BALTHASAR
+
+ _Abram._ Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
+
+ _Sampson._ I do bite my thumb, sir.
+
+ _Abram._ Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
+
+ _Sampson._ [_Aside to Gregory_] Is the law of our
+ side, if I say ay?
+
+ _Gregory._ No.
+
+ _Sampson._ No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you,
+ sir, but I bite my thumb, sir.
+
+ _Gregory._ Do you quarrel, sir?
+
+ _Abram._ Quarrel, sir! no, sir. 50
+
+ _Sampson._ If you do, sir, I am for you; I serve as
+ good a man as you.
+
+ _Abram._ No better.
+
+ _Sampson._ Well, sir.
+
+ _Gregory._ [_Aside to Sampson_] Say 'better'; here
+ comes one of my master's kinsmen.
+
+ _Sampson._ Yes, better, sir.
+
+ _Abram._ You lie.
+
+ _Sampson._ Draw, if you be men.--Gregory, remember
+ thy swashing blow. [_They fight._ 60
+
+_Enter_ BENVOLIO
+
+ _Benvolio._ Part, fools!
+ Put up your swords; you know not what you do.
+ [_Beats down their swords._
+
+_Enter_ TYBALT
+
+ _Tybalt._ What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
+ Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.
+
+ _Benvolio._ I do but keep the peace; put up thy sword,
+ Or manage it to part these men with me.
+
+ _Tybalt._ What, drawn and talk of peace! I hate the word,
+ As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee;
+ Have at thee, coward!
+ [_They fight._
+
+_Enter several of both houses who join the fray; then enter_ Citizens,
+_with clubs_
+
+ _First Citizen_. Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down! 70
+ Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!
+
+_Enter_ CAPULET _in his gown, and_ LADY CAPULET
+
+ _Capulet._ What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!
+
+ _Lady Capulet_. A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?
+
+ _Capulet._ My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,
+ And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
+
+_Enter_ MONTAGUE _and_ LADY MONTAGUE
+
+ _Montague._ Thou villain Capulet!--Hold me not, let me go.
+
+ _Lady Montague._ Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.
+
+_Enter_ PRINCE, _with his train_
+
+ _Prince._ Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
+ Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--
+ Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts, 80
+ That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
+ With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
+ On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
+ Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
+ And hear the sentence of your moved prince.--
+ Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
+ By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
+ Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
+ And made Verona's ancient citizens
+ Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, 90
+ To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
+ Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate.
+ If ever you disturb our streets again,
+ Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.--
+ For this time, all the rest depart away.--
+ You, Capulet, shall go along with me;--
+ And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
+ To know our further pleasure in this case,
+ To old Freetown, our common judgment-place.--
+ Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. 100
+ [_Exeunt all but Montague, Lady Montague, and Benvolio._
+
+ _Montague._ Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
+ Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?
+
+ _Benvolio._ Here were the servants of your adversary
+ And yours close fighting ere I did approach.
+ I drew to part them; in the instant came
+ The fiery Tybalt with his sword prepar'd,
+ Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears,
+ He swung about his head and cut the winds,
+ Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn.
+ While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, 110
+ Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
+ Till the prince came, who parted either part.
+
+ _Lady Montague._ O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?
+ Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
+ Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
+ A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
+ Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
+ That westward rooteth from the city's side,
+ So early walking did I see your son. 120
+ Towards him I made, but he was ware of me
+ And stole into the covert of the wood;
+ I, measuring his affections by my own,
+ Which then most sought where most might not be found,
+ Being one too many by my weary self,
+ Pursued my humour, not pursuing his,
+ And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
+
+ _Montague._ Many a morning hath he there been seen,
+ With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,
+ Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; 130
+ But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
+ Should in the farthest east begin to draw
+ The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
+ Away from light steals home my heavy son,
+ And private in his chamber pens himself,
+ Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,
+ And makes himself an artificial night.
+ Black and portentous must this humour prove,
+ Unless good counsel may the cause remove. 139
+
+ _Benvolio._ My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
+
+ _Montague._ I neither know it nor can learn of him.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Have you importun'd him by any means?
+
+ _Montague._ Both by myself and many other friends;
+ But he, his own affections' counsellor,
+ Is to himself--I will not say how true--
+ But to himself so secret and so close,
+ So far from sounding and discovery,
+ As is the bud bit with an envious worm
+ Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air
+ Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. 150
+ Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
+ We would as willingly give cure as know.
+
+_Enter_ ROMEO
+
+ _Benvolio._ See, where he comes! So please you, step aside;
+ I'll know his grievance or be much denied.
+
+ _Montague._ I would thou wert so happy by thy stay
+ To hear true shrift.--Come, madam, let's away.
+ [_Exeunt Montague and Lady._
+
+ _Benvolio._ Good morrow, cousin.
+
+ _Romeo._ Is the day so young?
+
+ _Benvolio._ But new struck nine.
+
+ _Romeo._ Ay me! sad hours seem long.
+ Was that my father that went hence so fast?
+
+ _Benvolio._ It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? 160
+
+ _Romeo._ Not having that which, having, makes them short.
+
+ _Benvolio._ In love?
+
+ _Romeo._ Out--
+
+ _Benvolio._ Of love?
+
+ _Romeo._ Out of her favour where I am in love.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
+ Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
+
+ _Romeo._ Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
+ Should without eyes see pathways to his will!
+ Where shall we dine?--O me! What fray was here?
+ Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. 171
+ Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
+ Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
+ O any thing, of nothing first created!
+ O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
+ Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
+ Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!
+ Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
+ This love feel I that feel no love in this.
+ Dost thou not laugh?
+
+ _Benvolio._ No, coz, I rather weep. 180
+
+ _Romeo._ Good heart, at what?
+
+ _Benvolio._ At thy good heart's oppression.
+
+ _Romeo._ Why, such is love's transgression.
+ Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
+ Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
+ With more of thine; this love that thou hast shown
+ Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
+ Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs;
+ Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
+ Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears.
+ What is it else? a madness most discreet, 190
+ A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
+ Farewell, my coz.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Soft! I will go along;
+ An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
+
+ _Romeo._ Tut, I have lost myself, I am not here;
+ This is not Romeo, he's some other where.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Tell me in sadness who is that you love.
+
+ _Romeo._ What, shall I groan and tell thee?
+
+ _Benvolio._ Groan! why, no,
+ But sadly tell me who.
+
+ _Romeo._ Bid a sick man in sadness make his will;
+ Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill! 200
+ In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
+
+ _Benvolio._ I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd.
+
+ _Romeo._ A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.
+
+ _Benvolio._ A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
+
+ _Romeo._ Well, in that hit you miss. She'll not be hit
+ With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit,
+ And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,
+ From Love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.
+ She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
+ Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, 210
+ Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold.
+ O, she is rich in beauty! only poor
+ That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?
+
+ _Romeo._ She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste;
+ For beauty starv'd with her severity
+ Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
+ She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,
+ To merit bliss by making me despair;
+ She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow 220
+ Do I live dead that live to tell it now.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her.
+
+ _Romeo._ O, teach me how I should forget to think.
+
+ _Benvolio._ By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
+ Examine other beauties.
+
+ _Romeo._ 'Tis the way
+ To call hers, exquisite, in question more.
+ These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows,
+ Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair.
+ He that is strucken blind cannot forget
+ The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. 230
+ Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
+ What doth her beauty serve but as a note
+ Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
+ Farewell; thou canst not teach me to forget.
+
+ _Benvolio._ I'll pay that doctrine or else die in debt.
+ [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II. _A Street_
+
+_Enter_ CAPULET, PARIS, _and_ Servant
+
+ _Capulet._ But Montague is bound as well as I,
+ In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
+ For men so old as we to keep the peace.
+
+ _Paris._ Of honourable reckoning are you both,
+ And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds so long.
+ But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
+
+ _Capulet._ But saying o'er what I have said before.
+ My child is yet a stranger in the world;
+ She hath not seen the change of fourteen years.
+ Let two more summers wither in their pride 10
+ Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
+
+ _Paris._ Younger than she are happy mothers made.
+
+ _Capulet._ And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
+ The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
+ She is the hopeful lady of my earth.
+ But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
+ My will to her consent is but a part;
+ An she agree, within her scope of choice
+ Lies my consent and fair according voice.
+ This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, 20
+ Whereto I have invited many a guest,
+ Such as I love; and you, among the store,
+ One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
+ At my poor house look to behold this night
+ Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light.
+ Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
+ When well-apparell'd April on the heel
+ Of limping winter treads, even such delight
+ Among fresh female buds shall you this night
+ Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, 30
+ And like her most whose merit most shall be;
+ Which on more view of many, mine being one
+ May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
+ Come, go with me.--[_To Servant, giving a paper_] Go, sirrah, trudge
+ about
+ Through fair Verona; find those persons out
+ Whose names are written there, and to them say,
+ My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
+ [_Exeunt Capulet and Paris._
+
+ _Servant._ Find them out whose names are written
+ here! It is written that the shoemaker should meddle
+ with his yard and the tailor with his last, the 40
+ fisher with his pencil and the painter with his nets;
+ but I am sent to find those persons whose names are
+ here writ, and can never find what names the writing
+ person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In
+ good time.
+
+_Enter_ BENVOLIO _and_ ROMEO
+
+ _Benvolio._ Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,
+ One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
+ Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
+ One desperate grief cures with another's languish.
+ Take thou some new infection to thy eye, 50
+ And the rank poison of the old will die.
+
+ _Romeo._ Your plantain-leaf is excellent for that.
+
+ _Benvolio._ For what, I pray thee?
+
+ _Romeo._ For your broken shin.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
+
+ _Romeo._ Not mad, but bound more than a madman is;
+ Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
+ Whipp'd and tormented and--Good-den, good fellow.
+
+ _Servant._ God gi' good-den.--I pray, sir, can you
+ read?
+
+ _Romeo._ Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. 60
+
+ _Servant._ Perhaps you have learned it without book;
+ but, I pray, can you read any thing you see?
+
+ _Romeo._ Ay, if I know the letters and the language.
+
+ _Servant._ Ye say honestly; rest you merry!
+
+ _Romeo._ Stay, fellow; I can read.
+
+ [Reads] _'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;
+ County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the
+ lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio and his
+ lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine;
+ mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair 70
+ niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his
+ cousin Tybalt; Lucio and the lively Helena?'_
+ A fair assembly; whither should they come?
+
+ _Servant._ Up.
+
+ _Romeo._ Whither?
+
+ _Servant._ To supper; to our house.
+
+ _Romeo._ Whose house?
+
+ _Servant._ My master's.
+
+ _Romeo._ Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.
+
+ _Servant._ Now I'll tell you without asking. My 80
+ master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not
+ of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush
+ a cup of wine. Rest you merry! [_Exit._
+
+ _Benvolio._ At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
+ Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st,
+ With all the admired beauties of Verona.
+ Go thither, and with unattainted eye
+ Compare her face with some that I shall show,
+ And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
+
+ _Romeo._ When the devout religion of mine eye 90
+ Maintains such falsehood then turn tears to fires;
+ And these, who often drown'd could never die,
+ Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!
+ One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun
+ Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by,
+ Herself pois'd with herself in either eye;
+ But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
+ Your lady's love against some other maid
+ That I will show you shining at this feast, 100
+ And she shall scant show well that now shows best.
+
+ _Romeo._ I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
+ But to rejoice in splendour of mine own.
+ [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III. _A Room in Capulet's House_
+
+_Enter_ LADY CAPULET _and_ Nurse
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
+
+ _Nurse._ Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old,
+ I bade her come.--What, lamb! what, lady-bird!--
+ God forbid!--Where's this girl?--What, Juliet!
+
+_Enter_ Juliet
+
+ _Juliet._ How now! who calls?
+
+ _Nurse._ Your mother.
+
+ _Juliet._ Madam, I am here.
+ What is your will?
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,
+ We must talk in secret.--Nurse, come back again;
+ I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
+ Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. 10
+
+ _Nurse._ Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ She's not fourteen.
+
+ _Nurse._ I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--
+ And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four,--
+ She is not fourteen. How long is it now
+ To Lammas-tide?
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ A fortnight and odd days.
+
+ _Nurse._ Even or odd, of all days in the year,
+ Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.
+ Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!--
+ Were of an age; well, Susan is with God,
+ She was too good for me; but, as I said, 20
+ On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
+ That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
+ 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
+ And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,--
+ Of all the days of the year, upon that day,
+ For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
+ Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;
+ My lord and you were then at Mantua,--
+ Nay, I do bear a brain;--but, as I said,
+ When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple 30
+ Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
+ To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
+ Shake, quoth the dove-house; 'twas no need, I trow,
+ To bid me trudge.
+ And since that time it is eleven years,
+ For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
+ She could have run and waddled all about.--
+ God mark thee to his grace!
+ Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd;
+ An I might live to see thee married once, 40
+ I have my wish.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme
+ I came to talk of.--Tell me, daughter Juliet,
+ How stands your disposition to be married?
+
+ _Juliet._ It is an honour that I dream not of.
+
+ _Nurse._ An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
+ I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Well, think of marriage now; younger than you
+ Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
+ Are made already mothers. By my count, 50
+ I was your mother much upon these years
+ That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:
+ The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
+
+ _Nurse._ A man, young lady! lady, such a man
+ As all the world--why, he's a man of wax.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
+
+ _Nurse._ Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
+
+ Lady Capulet. What say you? can you love the gentleman?
+ This night you shall behold him at our feast;
+ Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, 60
+ And find delight writ there with beauty's pen.
+ Examine every married lineament
+ And see how one another lends content;
+ And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies
+ Find written in the margent of his eyes.
+ This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
+ To beautify him, only lacks a cover;
+ The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride
+ For fair without the fair within to hide.
+ That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, 70
+ That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
+ So shall you share all that he doth possess,
+ By having him making yourself no less.
+ Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?
+
+ _Juliet._ I'll look to like, if looking liking move;
+ But no more deep will I endart mine eye
+ Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
+
+_Enter a_ Servant
+
+ _Servant._ Madam, the guests are come, supper
+ served up, you called, my young lady asked for,
+ the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in 80
+ extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you,
+ follow straight.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ We follow thee.--[_Exit Servant._] Juliet, the county
+ stays.
+
+ _Nurse._ Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE IV. _A Street_
+
+_Enter_ ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, _with five or six_ Maskers,
+Torch-bearers, _and others_
+
+ _Romeo._ What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
+ Or shall we on without apology?
+
+ _Benvolio._ The date is out of such prolixity.
+ We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,
+ Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
+ Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
+ Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
+ After the prompter, for our entrance.
+ But let them measure us by what they will,
+ We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. 10
+
+ _Romeo._ Give me a torch; I am not for this ambling.
+ Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
+
+ _Romeo._ Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes
+ With nimble soles; I have a soul of lead
+ So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
+
+ _Mercutio._ You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
+ And soar with them above a common bound.
+
+ _Romeo._ I am too sore enpierced with his shaft
+ To soar with his light feathers, and, so bound, 20
+ I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe;
+ Under love's heavy burden do I sink.
+
+ _Mercutio._ And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
+ Too great oppression for a tender thing.
+
+ _Romeo._ Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
+ Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
+
+ _Mercutio._ If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
+ Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.--
+ Give me a case to put my visage in; [_Putting on a mask_]
+ A visor for a visor! what care I 30
+ What curious eye doth quote deformities?
+ Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in
+ But every man betake him to his legs.
+
+ _Romeo._ A torch for me; let wantons light of heart
+ Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,
+ For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase:
+ I'll be a candle-holder and look on.
+ The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word; 40
+ If thou art Dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
+ Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st
+ Up to the ears.--Come, we burn daylight, ho!
+
+ _Romeo._ Nay, that's not so.
+
+ _Mercutio._ I mean, sir, in delay
+ We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
+ Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits
+ Five times in that ere once in our five wits.
+
+ _Romeo._ And we mean well in going to this mask;
+ But 'tis no wit to go.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Why, may one ask?
+
+ _Romeo._ I dreamt a dream to-night.
+
+ _Mercutio._ And so did I. 50
+
+ _Romeo._ Well, what was yours?
+
+ _Mercutio._ That dreamers often lie.
+
+ _Romeo._ In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.
+
+ _Mercutio._ O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
+ She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
+ In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
+ On the fore-finger of an alderman,
+ Drawn with a team of little atomies
+ Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
+ Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs,
+ The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, 60
+ The traces of the smallest spider's web,
+ The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
+ Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
+ Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat,
+ Not half so big as a round little worm
+ Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
+ Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
+ Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
+ Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
+ And in this state she gallops night by night 70
+ Through lover's brains, and then they dream of love;
+ O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight;
+ O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees;
+ O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
+ Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
+ Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.
+ Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
+ And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
+ And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
+ Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, 80
+ Then dreams he of another benefice.
+ Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
+ And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
+ Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
+ Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
+ Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
+ And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
+ And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
+ That plats the manes of horses in the night,
+ And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, 90
+ Which once untangled much misfortune bodes.
+ This is she--
+
+ _Romeo._ Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
+ Thou talk'st of nothing.
+
+ _Mercutio._ True, I talk of dreams,
+ Which are the children of an idle brain,
+ Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
+ Which is as thin of substance as the air,
+ And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
+ Even now the frozen bosom of the North,
+ And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
+ Turning his face to the dew-dropping South. 100
+
+ _Benvolio._ This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves;
+ Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
+
+ _Romeo._ I fear, too early; for my mind misgives
+ Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
+ Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
+ With this night's revels, and expire the term
+ Of a despised life clos'd in my breast
+ By some vile forfeit of untimely death,
+ But He that hath the steerage of my course
+ Direct my sail!--On, lusty gentlemen. 110
+
+ _Benvolio._ Strike, drum. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE V. _A Hall in Capulet's House_
+
+Musicians _waiting_. _Enter_ Servingmen _with napkins_
+
+1 _Servingman._ Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He shift
+a trencher! he scrape a trencher!
+
+2 _Servingman._ When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's
+hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.
+
+1 _Servingman._ Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard,
+look to the plate.--Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and, as
+thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and 10
+Nell.--Antony!--and Potpan!
+
+2 _Servingman._ Ay, boy, ready.
+
+1 _Servingman._ You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought
+for, in the great chamber.
+
+2 _Servingman._ We cannot be here and there too.--Cheerly, boys; be
+brisk a while, and the longer liver take all.
+
+_Enter_ CAPULET, _with_ JULIET _and others of his house_, _meeting the_
+GUESTS _and_ Maskers
+
+ _Capulet._ Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes
+ Unplagu'd with corns will have a bout with you.--
+ Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all 20
+ Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty,
+ She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now?--
+ Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day
+ That I have worn a visor and could tell
+ A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
+ Such as would please; 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone.--
+ You are welcome, gentlemen!--Come, musicians, play.--
+ A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.--
+ [_Music plays, and they dance._
+
+ More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,
+ And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.-- 30
+ Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.--
+ Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet,
+ For you and I are past our dancing days.
+ How long is 't now since last yourself and I
+ Were in a mask?
+
+ _2 Capulet._ By 'r lady, thirty years.
+
+ _Capulet._ What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much!
+ 'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio,
+ Come Pentecost as quickly as it will,
+ Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.
+
+ _2 Capulet._ 'Tis more, 'tis more! His son is elder, sir; 40
+ His son is thirty.
+
+ _Capulet._ Will you tell me that?
+ His son was but a ward two years ago.
+
+ _Romeo._ [_To a Servingman_] What lady is that, which doth enrich the
+ hand
+ Of yonder knight?
+
+ _Servingman._ I know not, sir.
+
+ _Romeo._ O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
+ Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night
+ Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;
+ Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
+ So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows 50
+ As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
+ The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
+ And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
+ Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
+ For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
+
+ _Tybalt._ This, by his voice, should be a Montague.--
+ Fetch me my rapier, boy.--What dares the slave
+ Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,
+ To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
+ Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, 60
+ To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
+
+ _Capulet._ Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?
+
+ _Tybalt._ Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,
+ A villain that is hither come in spite,
+ To scorn at our solemnity this night.
+
+ _Capulet._ Young Romeo is it?
+
+ _Tybalt._ 'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
+
+ _Capulet._ Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone.
+ He bears him like a portly gentleman;
+ And, to say truth, Verona brags of him
+ To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth. 70
+ I would not for the wealth of all the town
+ Here in my house do him disparagement;
+ Therefore be patient, take no note of him.
+ It is my will, the which if thou respect,
+ Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,
+ An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
+
+ _Tybalt._ It fits when such a villain is a guest;
+ I'll not endure him.
+
+ _Capulet._ He shall be endur'd;
+ What, goodman boy! I say he shall. Go to;
+ Am I the master here, or you? go to. 80
+ You'll not endure him!--God shall mend my soul!--
+ You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
+ You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!
+
+ _Tybalt._ Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.
+
+ _Capulet._ Go to, go to;
+ You are a saucy boy.--Is 't so, indeed?--
+ This trick may chance to scathe you,--I know what.
+ You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.--
+ Well said, my hearts!--You are a princox; go!
+ Be quiet, or--More light, more light!--For shame!
+ I'll make you quiet. What!--Cheerly, my hearts! 90
+
+ _Tybalt._ Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
+ Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
+ I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall,
+ Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. [Exit.
+
+ _Romeo._ [_To Juliet_] If I profane with my unworthiest hand
+ This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
+ My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
+ To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
+
+ _Juliet._ Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
+ Which mannerly devotion shows in this; 100
+ For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
+ And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
+
+ _Romeo._ Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
+
+ _Juliet._ Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
+
+ _Romeo._ O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
+ They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
+
+ _Juliet._ Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
+
+ _Romeo._ Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
+ Thus from my lips by thine my sin is purg'd. [_Kissing her._
+
+ _Juliet._ Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
+
+ _Romeo._ Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd!
+ Give me my sin again.
+
+ _Juliet._ You kiss by the book. 112
+
+ _Nurse._ Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
+
+ _Romeo._ What is her mother?
+
+ _Nurse._ Marry, bachelor,
+ Her mother is the lady of the house,
+ And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous.
+ I nurs'd her daughter that you talk'd withal;
+ I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
+ Shall have the chinks.
+
+ _Romeo._ Is she a Capulet?
+ O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. 120
+
+ _Benvolio._ Away, be gone; the sport is at the best.
+
+ _Romeo._ Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
+
+ _Capulet._ Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
+ We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.--
+ Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all;
+ I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.--
+ More torches here!--Come on then, let's to bed.
+ Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late;
+ I'll to my rest. [_Exeunt all but Juliet and Nurse._
+
+ _Juliet._ Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?
+
+ _Nurse._ The son and heir of old Tiberio. 131
+
+ _Juliet._ What's he that now is going out of door?
+
+ _Nurse._ Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.
+
+ _Juliet._ What's he that follows there, that would not dance?
+
+ _Nurse._ I know not.
+
+ _Juliet._ Go, ask his name.--If he be married,
+ My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
+
+ _Nurse._ His name is Romeo, and a Montague,
+ The only son of your great enemy.
+
+ _Juliet._ My only love sprung from my only hate! 140
+ Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
+ Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
+ That I must love a loathed enemy.
+
+ _Nurse._ What's this? what's this?
+
+ _Juliet._ A rhyme I learn'd even now
+ Of one I danc'd withal. [_One calls within_ 'Juliet.'
+
+ _Nurse._ Anon, anon!--
+ Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. [_Exeunt._
+
+[Illustration: Capulet's Garden]
+
+
+
+
+ACT II
+
+_Enter_ Chorus
+
+ Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
+ And young affection gapes to be his heir;
+ That fair for which love groan'd for and would die,
+ With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
+ Now Romeo is belov'd and loves again,
+ Alike bewitched by the charm of looks,
+ But to his foe suppos'd he must complain,
+ And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks.
+ Being held a foe, he may not have access
+ To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
+ And she as much in love, her means much less
+ To meet her new-beloved any where.
+ But passion lends them power, time means, to meet,
+ Tempering extremities with extreme sweet. [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE I. _A Lane by the Wall of Capulet's Orchard_
+
+_Enter_ ROMEO
+
+ _Romeo._ Can I go forward when my heart is here?--
+ Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.
+ [_He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it._
+
+_Enter_ BENVOLIO _and_ MERCUTIO
+
+ _Benvolio._ Romeo! my cousin Romeo! Romeo!
+
+ _Mercutio._ He is wise,
+ And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed.
+
+ _Benvolio._ He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall;
+ Call, good Mercutio.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Nay, I'll conjure too.--
+ Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!
+ Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh!
+ Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;
+ Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove'; 10
+ Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
+ One nickname for her purblind son and heir,
+ Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim
+ When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid!--
+ He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;
+ The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.--
+ I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
+ By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,
+ That in thy likeness thou appear to us!
+
+ _Benvolio._ An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. 20
+
+ _Mercutio._ This cannot anger him; 'twould anger him
+ To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle
+ Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
+ Till she had laid it and conjur'd it down.
+ That were some spite; my invocation
+ Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name
+ I conjure only but to raise up him.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Come, he hath hid himself among these trees,
+ To be consorted with the humorous night;
+ Blind is his love and best befits the dark. 30
+
+ _Mercutio._ If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.--
+ Romeo, good night.--I'll to my truckle-bed;
+ This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep.
+ Come, shall we go?
+
+ _Benvolio._ Go, then; for 'tis in vain
+ To seek him here that means not to be found. [_Exeunt._
+
+SCENE II. _Capulet's Orchard_
+
+_Enter_ ROMEO
+
+ _Romeo._ He jests at scars that never felt a wound.--
+ [_Juliet appears above at a window._
+ But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
+ It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.--
+ Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
+ Who is already sick and pale with grief
+ That thou her maid art far more fair than she.
+ Be not her maid, since she is envious.
+ Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
+ And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.--
+ It is my lady, O, it is my love! 10
+ O, that she knew she were!--
+ She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that?
+ Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
+ I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks.
+ Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
+ Having some business, do entreat her eyes
+ To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
+ What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
+ The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
+ As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven 20
+ Would through the airy region stream so bright
+ That birds would sing and think it were not night.
+ See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
+ O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
+ That I might touch that cheek!
+
+ _Juliet._ Ay me!
+
+ _Romeo._ She speaks.--
+ O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
+ As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
+ As is a winged messenger of heaven
+ Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
+ Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him, 30
+ When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
+ And sails upon the bosom of the air.
+
+ _Juliet._ O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
+ Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
+ Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love
+ And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
+
+ _Romeo._ [_Aside_] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
+
+ _Juliet._ 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
+ Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
+ What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
+ Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
+ Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
+ What's in a name? That which we call a rose
+ By any other name would smell as sweet;
+ So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
+ Retain that dear perfection which he owes
+ Without that title.--Romeo, doff thy name,
+ And for that name, which is no part of thee,
+ Take all myself.
+
+ _Romeo._ I take thee at thy word.
+ Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd;
+ Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
+
+ _Juliet._ What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night
+ So stumblest on my counsel?
+
+ _Romeo._ By a name
+ I know not how to tell thee who I am.
+ My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
+ Because it is an enemy to thee;
+ Had I it written, I would tear the word.
+
+ _Juliet._ My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words
+ Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound.--
+ Art thou not Romeo and a Montague? 60
+
+ _Romeo._ Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.
+
+ _Juliet._ How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
+ The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
+ And the place death, considering who thou art,
+ If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
+
+ _Romeo._ With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls,
+ For stony limits cannot hold love out,
+ And what love can do that dares love attempt;
+ Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.
+
+ _Juliet._ If they do see thee, they will murther thee. 70
+
+ _Romeo._ Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
+ Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet,
+ And I am proof against their enmity.
+
+ _Juliet._ I would not for the world they saw thee here.
+
+ _Romeo._ I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes;
+ And but thou love me, let them find me here.
+ My life were better ended by their hate
+ Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
+
+ _Juliet._ By whose direction found'st thou out this place?
+
+ _Romeo._ By love, that first did prompt me to inquire;
+ He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. 81
+ I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
+ As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,
+ I would adventure for such merchandise.
+
+ _Juliet._ Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
+ Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
+ For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
+ Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
+ What I have spoke; but farewell compliment!
+ Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say ay, 90
+ And I will take thy word. Yet, if thou swear'st,
+ Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
+ They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
+ If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;
+ Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
+ I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay,
+ So thou wilt woo, but else not for the world.
+ In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
+ And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light;
+ But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true 100
+ Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
+ I should have been more strange, I must confess,
+ But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
+ My true love's passion; therefore pardon me,
+ And not impute this yielding to light love,
+ Which the dark night hath so discovered.
+
+ _Romeo._ Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
+ That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--
+
+ _Juliet._ O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
+ That monthly changes in her circled orb, 110
+ Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
+
+ _Romeo._ What shall I swear by?
+
+ _Juliet._ Do not swear at all;
+ Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
+ Which is the god of my idolatry,
+ And I'll believe thee.
+
+ _Romeo._ If my heart's dear love--
+
+ _Juliet._ Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee,
+ I have no joy of this contract to-night;
+ It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden,
+ Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
+ Ere one can say it lightens. Sweet, good night! 120
+ This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
+ May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
+ Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
+ Come to thy heart as that within my breast!
+
+ _Romeo._ O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
+
+ _Juliet._ What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?
+
+ _Romeo._ The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.
+
+ _Juliet._ I gave thee mine before thou didst request it;
+ And yet I would it were to give again.
+
+ _Romeo._ Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love? 130
+
+ _Juliet._ But to be frank and give it thee again;
+ And yet I wish but for the thing I have.
+ My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
+ My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
+ The more I have, for both are infinite.
+ [_Nurse calls within._
+ I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!--
+ Anon, good nurse!--Sweet Montague, be true.
+ Stay but a little, I will come again. [_Exit._
+
+ _Romeo_. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard,
+ Being in night, all this is but a dream, 140
+ Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
+
+_Re-enter_ JULIET, _above_
+
+ _Juliet._ Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.
+ If that thy bent of love be honourable,
+ Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,
+ By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
+ Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite;
+ And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,
+ And follow thee my lord throughout the world.
+
+ _Nurse._ [_Within_] Madam!
+
+ _Juliet._ I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well, 150
+ I do beseech thee--
+
+ _Nurse._ [_Within_] Madam!
+
+ _Juliet._ By and by, I come.--
+ To cease thy suit and leave me to my grief;
+ To-morrow will I send.
+
+ _Romeo._ So thrive my soul--
+
+ _Juliet._ A thousand times good night! [_Exit_.
+
+ _Romeo._ A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.--
+ Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books,
+ But love from love toward school with heavy looks.
+ [_Retiring slowly._
+
+_Re-enter_ JULIET, _above_
+
+ _Juliet._ Hist! Romeo, hist!--O, for a falconer's voice,
+ To lure this tassel-gentle back again! 160
+ Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud;
+ Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
+ And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine
+ With repetition of my Romeo's name.
+
+ _Romeo._ It is my soul that calls upon my name;
+ How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
+ Like softest music to attending ears!
+
+ _Juliet._ Romeo!
+
+ _Romeo._ My dear?
+
+ _Juliet._ At what o'clock to-morrow
+ Shall I send to thee?
+
+ _Romeo._ At the hour of nine.
+
+ _Juliet._ I will not fail; 't is twenty years till then. 170
+ I have forgot why I did call thee back.
+
+ _Romeo._ Let me stand here till thou remember it.
+
+ _Juliet._ I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
+ Remembering how I love thy company.
+
+ _Romeo._ And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
+ Forgetting any other home but this.
+
+ _Juliet._ 'T is almost morning; I would have thee gone,
+ And yet no farther than a wanton's bird,
+ Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
+ Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, 180
+ And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
+ So loving-jealous of his liberty.
+
+ _Romeo._ I would I were thy bird.
+
+ _Juliet._ Sweet, so would I;
+ Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
+ Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow
+ That I shall say good night till it be morrow. [_Exit above._
+
+ _Romeo._ Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
+ Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
+ Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, 189
+ His help to crave and my dear hap to tell. [_Exit._
+
+SCENE III. _Friar Laurence's Cell_
+
+_Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE, _with a basket_
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
+ Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,
+ And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
+ From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels.
+ Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
+ The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
+ I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
+ With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
+ The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;
+ What is her burying grave that is her womb, 10
+ And from her womb children of divers kind
+ We sucking on her natural bosom find,
+ Many for many virtues excellent,
+ None but for some, and yet all different.
+ O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
+ In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities!
+ For nought so vile that on the earth doth live
+ But to the earth some special good doth give;
+ Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use,
+ Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. 20
+ Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,
+ And vice sometime's by action dignified.
+ Within the infant rind of this weak flower
+ Poison hath residence, and medicine power;
+ For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part,
+ Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
+ Two such opposed kings encamp them still
+ In man as well as herbs,--grace and rude will;
+ And where the worser is predominant,
+ Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. 30
+
+_Enter_ ROMEO
+
+_Romeo._ Good morrow, father.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Benedicite!
+ What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?--
+ Young son, it argues a distemper'd head
+ So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed.
+ Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
+ And where care lodges sleep will never lie;
+ But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
+ Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.
+ Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
+ Thou art up-rous'd with some distemperature; 40
+ Or if not so, then here I hit it right,
+ Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.
+
+ _Romeo._ That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?
+
+ _Romeo._ With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
+ I have forgot that name and that name's woe.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ That's my good son; but where
+ hast thou been, then?
+
+ _Romeo._ I 'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
+ I have been feasting with mine enemy,
+ Where on a sudden one hath wounded me 50
+ That's by me wounded; both our remedies
+ Within thy help and holy physic lies.
+ I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
+ My intercession likewise steads my foe.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
+ Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
+
+ _Romeo._ Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set
+ On the fair daughter of rich Capulet.
+ As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
+ And all combin'd, save what thou must combine 60
+ By holy marriage. When and where and how
+ We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow,
+ I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
+ That thou consent to marry us to-day.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!
+ Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear,
+ So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies
+ Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
+ Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
+ Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! 70
+ How much salt water thrown away in waste,
+ To season love that of it doth not taste!
+ The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
+ Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
+ Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
+ Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet.
+ If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,
+ Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;
+ And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then:
+ Women may fall when there's no strength in men. 80
+
+ _Romeo._ Thou chidd'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
+
+ _Romeo._ And bad'st me bury love.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Not in a grave,
+ To lay one in, another out to have.
+
+ _Romeo._ I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now
+ Doth grace for grace and love for love allow,
+ The other did not so.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ O, she knew well
+ Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.
+ But come, young waverer, come, go with me,
+ In one respect I'll thy assistant be; 90
+ For this alliance may so happy prove
+ To turn your households' rancour to pure love.
+
+ _Romeo._ O, let us hence! I stand on sudden haste.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.
+ [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE IV. _A Street_
+
+_Enter_ BENVOLIO _and_ MERCUTIO
+
+ _Mercutio._ Where the devil should this Romeo be?
+ Came he not home to-night?
+
+ _Benvolio._ Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline,
+ Torments him so that he will sure run mad.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
+ Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
+
+ _Mercutio._ A challenge, on my life.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Romeo will answer it.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Any man that can write may answer 10
+ a letter.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Nay, he will answer the letter's master,
+ how he dares, being dared.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Alas, poor Romeo! he is already dead;
+ stabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot thorough
+ the ear with a love-song; the very pin of his
+ heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft; and
+ is he a man to encounter Tybalt?
+
+ _Benvolio._ Why, what is Tybalt?
+
+ _Mercutio._ More than prince of cats, I can tell you. 20
+ O, he is the courageous captain of compliments! He
+ fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance,
+ and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two,
+ and the third in your bosom; the very butcher of a
+ silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the
+ very first house, of the first and second cause. Ah,
+ the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hay!
+
+ _Benvolio._ The what?
+
+ _Mercutio._ The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting
+ fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu, 30
+ a very good blade! a very tall man!'--Why, is not
+ this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be
+ thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers,
+ these _pardonnez-mois_, who stand so much
+ on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the
+ old bench? O, their _bons_, their _bons!_
+
+_Enter_ ROMEO
+
+ _Benvolio._ Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Without his roe, like a dried herring. O
+ flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the
+ numbers that Petrarch flowed in; Laura to his lady 40
+ was but a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better
+ love to be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra
+ a gypsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots;
+ Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose.--Signior
+ Romeo, _bon jour_! there's a French salutation
+ to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit
+ fairly last night.
+
+ _Romeo._ Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit
+ did I give you?
+
+ _Mercutio._ The slip, sir, the slip; can you not 50
+ conceive?
+
+ _Romeo._ Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was
+ great; and in such a case as mine a man may strain
+ courtesy.
+
+ _Mercutio._ That's as much as to say, such a case
+ as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.
+
+ _Romeo._ Meaning, to curtsy.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Thou hast most kindly hit it.
+
+ _Romeo._ A most courteous exposition.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. 60
+
+ _Romeo._ Pink for flower.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Right.
+
+ _Romeo._ Why, then is my pump well flowered.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Well said; follow me this jest now till
+ thou hast worn out thy pump, that when the single
+ sole of it is worn the jest may remain after the wearing
+ sole singular.
+
+ _Romeo._ O single-souled jest, solely singular for
+ the singleness!
+
+ _Mercutio._ Come between us, good Benvolio; my 70
+ wits fail.
+
+ _Romeo._ Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or
+ I'll cry a match.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase,
+ I have done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in
+ one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole
+ five. Was I with you there for the goose?
+
+ _Romeo._ Thou wast never with me for any thing
+ when thou was not there for the goose.
+
+ _Mercutio._ I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. 80
+
+ _Romeo._ Nay, good goose, bite not.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is
+ a most sharp sauce.
+
+ _Romeo._ And is it not well served in to a sweet
+ goose?
+
+ _Mercutio._ O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches
+ from an inch narrow to an ell broad!
+
+ _Romeo._ I stretch it out for that word 'broad,'
+ which added to the goose proves thee far and wide
+ a broad goose. 90
+
+ _Mercutio._ Why, is not this better now than groaning
+ for love? Now art thou sociable, now art thou
+ Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well
+ as by nature; for this drivelling love is like a great
+ natural,--
+
+ _Benvolio._ Stop there, stop there.
+
+ _Romeo._ Here's goodly gear!
+
+_Enter_ NURSE _and_ PETER
+
+ _Mercutio._ A sail, a sail!
+
+ _Benvolio._ Two, two; a shirt and a smock.
+
+ _Nurse._ Peter! 100
+
+ _Peter._ Anon!
+
+ _Nurse._ My fan, Peter.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Good Peter, to hide her face; for her
+ fan's the fairer of the two.
+
+ _Nurse._ God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
+
+ _Mercutio._ God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.
+
+ _Nurse._ Is it good den?
+
+ _Mercutio._ 'Tis no less, I tell you, for the hand of
+ the dial is now upon the prick of noon.
+
+ _Nurse._ Out upon you! what a man are you! 110
+
+ _Romeo._ One, gentlewoman, that God hath made
+ for himself to mar.
+
+ _Nurse._ By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself
+ to mar,' quoth a'?--Gentlemen, can any of you tell
+ me where I may find the young Romeo?
+
+ _Romeo._ I can tell you; but young Romeo will be
+ older when you have found him than he was when
+ you sought him. I am the youngest of that name,
+ for fault of a worse.
+
+ _Nurse._ You say well. 120
+
+ _Mercutio._ Yea, is the worst well? very well took,
+ i' faith; wisely, wisely.
+
+ _Nurse._ If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence
+ with you.
+
+ _Benvolio._ She will indite him to some supper.
+
+ _Mercutio._ So ho!
+
+ _Romeo._ What hast thou found?
+
+ _Mercutio._ No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a
+ lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be
+ spent.--Romeo, will you come to your father's? 130
+ we'll to dinner thither.
+
+ _Romeo._ I will follow you.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, [_singing_]
+ 'lady, lady, lady!' [_Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio._
+
+ _Nurse._ Marry, farewell!--I pray you, sir, what
+ saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his
+ ropery?
+
+ _Romeo._ A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear
+ himself talk, and will speak more in a minute than
+ he will stand to in a month. 140
+
+ _Nurse._ An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take
+ him down an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty
+ such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that
+ shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I
+ am none of his skains-mates.--And thou must stand
+ by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his
+ pleasure?
+
+ _Peter._ I saw no man use you at his pleasure; if I
+ had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I
+ warrant you. I dare draw as soon as another man, 150
+ if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on
+ my side.
+
+ _Nurse._ Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every
+ part about me quivers. Scurvy knave!--Pray you,
+ sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bade
+ me inquire you out; what she bade me say, I will
+ keep to myself; but first let me tell ye, if ye should
+ lead her in a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a
+ very gross kind of behaviour, as they say; for the
+ gentlewoman is young, and, therefore, if you should 160
+ deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be
+ offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.
+
+ _Romeo._ Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress.
+ I protest unto thee--
+
+ _Nurse._ Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as
+ much. Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman!
+
+ _Romeo._ What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost
+ not mark me.
+
+ _Nurse._ I will tell her, sir, that you do protest,
+ which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer. 170
+
+ _Romeo._ Bid her devise some means to come to shrift
+ This afternoon;
+ And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell
+ Be shriv'd and married. Here is for thy pains.
+
+ _Nurse._ No, truly, sir, not a penny.
+
+ _Romeo._ Go to; I say you shall.
+
+ _Nurse._ This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.
+
+ _Romeo._ And stay, good nurse; behind the abbey wall
+ Within this hour my man shall be with thee,
+ And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair, 180
+ Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
+ Must be my convoy in the secret night.
+ Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains.
+ Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.
+
+ _Nurse._ Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.
+
+ _Romeo._ What say'st thou, my dear nurse?
+
+ _Nurse._ Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,
+ Two may keep counsel, putting one away?
+
+ _Romeo._ I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.
+
+ _Nurse._ Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord, 190
+ Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing--O,
+ there is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would
+ fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as
+ lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger
+ her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer
+ man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks
+ as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not
+ rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?
+
+ _Romeo._ Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.
+
+ _Nurse._ Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name; R is 200
+ for the--No, I know it begins with some other
+ letter--and she hath the prettiest sententious of it,
+ of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to
+ hear it.
+
+ _Romeo._ Commend me to thy lady.
+
+ _Nurse._ Ay, a thousand times.--[_Exit Romeo_] Peter!
+
+ _Peter._ Anon.
+
+ _Nurse._ Before, and apace. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE V. _Capulet's Orchard_
+
+_Enter_ JULIET
+
+ _Juliet._ The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse;
+ In half an hour she promis'd to return.
+ Perchance she cannot meet him; that's not so.
+ O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,
+ Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams
+ Driving back shadows over lowering hills;
+ Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love,
+ And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
+ Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
+ Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve 10
+ Is three long hours, yet she is not come.
+ Had she affections and warm youthful blood,
+ She would be as swift 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, slow, heavy and pale as lead.--
+
+_Enter_ NURSE _and_ PETER
+
+ O God, she comes!--O honey nurse, what news?
+ Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.
+
+ _Nurse._ Peter, stay at the gate. [_Exit Peter._
+
+ _Juliet._ Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad? 21
+ Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
+ If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news
+ By playing it to me with so sour a face.
+
+ _Nurse._ I am aweary, give me leave awhile.
+ Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had!
+
+ _Juliet._ I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news.
+ Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak.
+
+ _Nurse._ Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile?
+ Do you not see that I am out of breath? 30
+
+ _Juliet._ How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath
+ To say to me that thou art out of breath?
+ The excuse that thou dost make in this delay
+ Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.
+ Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;
+ Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance.
+ Let me be satisfied, is 't good or bad?
+
+ _Nurse._ Well, you have made a simple choice; you
+ know not how to choose a man. Romeo! no, not
+ he; though his face be better than any man's, yet his 40
+ leg excels all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and
+ a body, though they be not to be talked on, yet they
+ are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy,
+ but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy
+ ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at
+ home?
+
+ _Juliet._ No, no; but all this did I know before.
+ What says he of our marriage? what of that?
+
+ _Nurse._ Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!
+ It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. 50
+ My back o' t'other side,--O, my back, my back!
+ Beshrew your heart for sending me about,
+ To catch my death with jaunting up and down!
+
+ _Juliet._ I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.
+ Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?
+
+ _Nurse._ Your love says, like an honest gentleman,
+ And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,
+ And, I warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother?
+
+ _Juliet._ Where is my mother! why, she is within;
+ Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! 60
+ 'Your love says, like an honest gentleman,
+ Where is your mother?'
+
+ _Nurse._ O God's lady dear!
+ Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow;
+ Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
+ Henceforward do your messages yourself.
+
+ _Juliet._ Here's such a coil!--come, what says Romeo?
+
+ _Nurse._ Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?
+
+ _Juliet._ I have.
+
+ _Nurse._ Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell;
+ There stays a husband to make you a wife. 70
+ Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
+ They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
+ Hie you to church; I must another way,
+ To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
+ Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark.
+ I am the drudge, and toil in your delight.
+ Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell.
+
+ _Juliet._ Hie to high fortune!--Honest nurse, farewell.
+ [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE VI. _Friar Laurence's Cell_
+
+_Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE _and_ ROMEO
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ So smile the heavens upon this holy act
+ That after hours with sorrow chide us not!
+
+ _Romeo._ Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
+ It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
+ That one short minute gives me in her sight.
+ Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
+ Then love--devouring death do what he dare,
+ It is enough I may but call her mine.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ These violent delights have violent ends,
+ And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, 10
+ Which as they kiss consume; the sweetest honey
+ Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
+ And in the taste confounds the appetite.
+ Therefore love moderately, long love doth so;
+ Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.--
+
+_Enter_ JULIET
+
+ Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot
+ Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint!
+ A lover may bestride the gossamer
+ That idles in the wanton summer air,
+ And yet not fall, so light is vanity. 20
+
+ _Juliet._ Good even to my ghostly confessor.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
+
+ _Juliet._ As much to him, else is his thanks too much.
+
+ _Romeo._ Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
+ Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more
+ To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
+ This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
+ Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
+ Receive in either by this dear encounter.
+
+ _Juliet._ Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
+ Brags of his substance, not of ornament. 31
+ They are but beggars that can count their worth;
+ But my true love is grown to such excess
+ I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Come, come with me, and we will make short work;
+ For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone
+ Till holy church incorporate two in one. [_Exeunt._
+
+[Illustration: Loggia of Capulet's House]
+
+
+
+
+ACT III
+
+SCENE I. _A Public Place_
+
+
+_Enter_ MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, _and_ Servants
+
+ _Benvolio._ I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire.
+ The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
+ And if we meet we shall not scape a brawl;
+ For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Thou art like one of those fellows that
+ when he enters the confines of a tavern claps me his
+ sword upon the table, and says 'God send me no
+ need of thee!' and by the operation of the second
+ cup draws him on the drawer, when indeed there is
+ no need. 10
+
+ _Benvolio._ Am I like such a fellow?
+
+ _Mercutio._ Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in
+ thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be
+ moody, and as soon moody to be moved.
+
+ _Benvolio._ And what to?
+
+ _Mercutio._ Nay, an there were two such, we should
+ have none shortly, for one would kill the other.
+ Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath
+ a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard than thou
+ hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking 20
+ nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast
+ hazel eyes; what eye but such an eye would spy out
+ such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as
+ an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been
+ beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou
+ hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street,
+ because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain
+ asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a
+ tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter?
+ with another for tying his new shoes with old riband? 30
+ and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!
+
+ _Benvolio._ An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art,
+ any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an
+ hour and a quarter.
+
+ _Mercutio._ The fee-simple! O simple!
+
+ _Benvolio._ By my head, here come the Capulets.
+
+ _Mercutio._ By my heel, I care not.
+
+_Enter_ TYBALT _and others_
+
+ _Tybalt._ Follow me close, for I will speak to them.--
+ Gentlemen, good den; a word with one of you.
+
+ _Mercutio._ And but one word with one of us? 40
+ couple it with something; make it a word and a
+ blow.
+
+ _Tybalt._ You shall find me apt enough to that, sir,
+ an you will give me occasion.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Could you not take some occasion without
+ giving?
+
+ _Tybalt._ Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,--
+
+ _Mercutio._ Consort! what, dost thou make us
+ minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to
+ hear nothing but discords; here's my fiddlestick, 50
+ here's that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort!
+
+ _Benvolio._ We talk here in the public haunt of men.
+ Either withdraw unto some private place,
+ Or reason coldly of your grievances,
+ Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
+ I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
+
+_Enter_ ROMEO
+
+ _Tybalt._ Well, peace be with you, sir; here comes my man.
+
+ _Mercutio._ But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery.
+ Marry, go before to field, he 'll be your follower; 60
+ Your worship in that sense may call him man.
+
+ _Tybalt._ Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford
+ No better term than this,--thou art a villain.
+
+ _Romeo._ Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
+ Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
+ To such a greeting. Villain am I none,
+ Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.
+
+ _Tybalt._ Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
+ That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.
+
+ _Romeo._ I do protest, I never injur'd thee, 70
+ But love thee better than thou canst devise
+ Till thou shalt know the reason of my love;
+ And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender
+ As dearly as my own,--be satisfied.
+
+ _Mercutio._ O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
+ A la stoccata carries it away.-- [_Draws._
+ Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?
+
+ _Tybalt._ What wouldst thou have with me?
+
+ _Mercutio._ Good king of cats, nothing but one of
+ your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, 80
+ 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 ears? make haste, lest mine be about
+ your ears ere it be out.
+
+ _Tybalt._ I am for you. [_Drawing._
+
+ _Romeo._ Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
+
+ _Mercutio._ Come, sir, your passado. [_They fight._
+
+ _Romeo._ Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.--
+ Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
+ Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath 90
+ Forbid this bandying in Verona streets.
+ Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!
+ [_Exeunt Tybalt and his partisans._
+
+ _Mercutio._ I am hurt.
+ A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
+ Is he gone, and hath nothing?
+
+ _Benvolio._ What, art thou hurt?
+
+ Mercutio. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.--
+ Where is my page?--Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. [_Exit Page._
+
+ _Romeo._ Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
+
+ _Mercutio._ 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 100
+ man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world.--A
+ plague o' both your houses!--Zounds, 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
+ arithmetic!--Why the devil came you between us?
+ I was hurt under your arm.
+
+ _Romeo._ I thought all for the best.
+
+ _Mercutio._ 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, 110
+ And soundly too;--your houses!
+ [_Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio_
+
+ _Romeo._ This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
+ My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
+ In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
+ With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour
+ Hath been my cousin!--O sweet Juliet,
+ Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
+ And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!
+
+_Re-enter_ BENVOLIO
+
+ _Benvolio._ O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!
+ That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, 120
+ Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
+
+ _Romeo._ This day's black fate on more days doth depend;
+ This but begins the woe others must end.
+
+ _Benvolio._ Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
+
+_Re-enter_ TYBALT
+
+ _Romeo._ Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
+ Away to heaven, respective lenity,
+ And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!--
+ Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again
+ That late thou gav'st me! for Mercutio's soul
+ Is but a little way above our heads, 130
+ Staying for thine to keep him company;
+ Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
+
+ _Tybalt._ Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
+ Shalt with him hence.
+
+ _Romeo._ This shall determine that.
+ [_They fight; Tybalt falls._
+
+ _Benvolio._ Romeo, away, be gone!
+ The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.
+ Stand not amaz'd; the prince will doom thee death
+ If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away!
+
+ _Romeo._ O, I am fortune's fool!
+
+ _Benvolio._ Why dost thou stay?
+ [_Exit Romeo._
+
+_Enter_ Citizens, _etc_.
+
+ _1 Citizen._ Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? 140
+ Tybalt, that murtherer, which way ran he?
+
+ _Benvolio._ There lies that Tybalt.
+
+ _1 Citizen._ Up, sir, go with me;
+ I charge thee in the prince's name, obey.
+
+_Enter_ Prince, _attended_; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, _their_ Wives, _and
+others_
+
+ _Prince._ Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
+
+ _Benvolio._ O noble prince, I can discover all
+ The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl.
+ There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
+ That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child!
+ O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt 150
+ Of my dear kinsman!--Prince, as thou art true,
+ For blood of ours shed blood of Montague.--
+ O cousin, cousin!
+
+ _Prince._ Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
+
+ _Benvolio._ Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;
+ Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
+ How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal
+ Your high displeasure. All this, uttered
+ With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,
+ Could not take truce with the unruly spleen 160
+ Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
+ With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast,
+ 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 170
+ An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
+ Of stout Mercutio; and then Tybalt fled,
+ 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 and fly.
+ This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ He is a kinsman to the Montague;
+ Affection makes him false, he speaks not true. 180
+ Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
+ And all those twenty could but kill one life.
+ I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
+ Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
+
+ _Prince._ Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
+ Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
+
+ _Montague._ Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend;
+ His fault concludes but what the law should end,
+ The life of Tybalt.
+
+ _Prince._ And for that offence
+ Immediately we do exile him hence. 190
+ I have an interest in your hate's 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.
+ I 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 last.
+ Bear hence this body and attend our will;
+ Mercy but murthers, pardoning those that kill. 200
+ [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II. _Capulet's Orchard_
+
+_Enter_ JULIET
+
+ _Juliet._ Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
+ Towards Phœbus' lodging; such a waggoner
+ As Phaethon would whip you to the west
+ And bring in cloudy night immediately.--
+ Spread thy close curtain, love-performing Night,
+ That runaways' 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,
+ It best agrees with night.--Come, civil Night, 10
+ Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
+ And learn me how to lose a winning match,
+ Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods.
+ Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,
+ With thy black mantle, till strange love grown bold
+ Think 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 new snow on a raven's back.
+ Come, gentle Night, come, loving, black-brow'd Night,
+ Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, 21
+ Take him and cut him out in little stars,
+ And he will make the face of heaven so fine
+ That all the world will 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 30
+ And may not wear them.--O, here comes my nurse,
+ And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks
+ But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.--
+
+_Enter_ Nurse, _with cords_
+
+ Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords
+ That Romeo bid thee fetch?
+
+ _Nurse._ Ay, ay, the Cords.
+ [_Throws them down._
+
+ _Juliet._ Ay 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!
+
+ _Juliet._ Can heaven be so envious?
+
+ _Nurse._ Romeo can, 40
+ Though heaven cannot.--O Romeo, Romeo!--
+ Who ever would have thought it?--Romeo!
+
+ _Juliet._ What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?
+ This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
+ Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but ay,
+ And that bare vowel I shall poison more
+ Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.
+ I am not I, if there be such an I,
+ Or those eyes shut that make thee answer ay.
+ If he be slain, say ay; or if not, no. 50
+ 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 bedaub'd in blood,
+ All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.
+
+ _Juliet._ 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,
+ And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! 60
+
+ _Nurse._ O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
+ O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
+ That ever I should live to see thee dead!
+
+ _Juliet._ 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. 70
+
+ _Juliet._ O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?
+
+ _Nurse._ It did, it did; alas the day, it did!
+
+ _Juliet._ O serpent heart, hid with a flowering 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, 80
+ When thou didst 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,
+ No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd,
+ All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.--
+ Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitæ.--
+ These griefs, these woes, these sorrows, make me old.
+ Shame come to Romeo!
+
+ _Juliet._ Blister'd be thy tongue 90
+ For such a wish! he was not born to shame;
+ Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit,
+ For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
+ Sole monarch of the universal earth.
+ O, what a beast was I to chide at him!
+
+ _Nurse._ Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?
+
+ _Juliet._ Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?--
+ Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name
+ When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?
+ But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? 100
+ 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 husband.
+ All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
+ Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
+ That murther'd me. I would forget it fain,
+ But, O, it presses to my memory, 110
+ Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:
+ 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished!'
+ That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,'
+ Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
+ Was woe enough, if it had ended there;
+ Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship
+ And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,
+ Why follow'd not, when she said Tybalt's dead,
+ Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
+ Which modern lamentation might have mov'd? 120
+ But with a rearward following Tybalt's death,
+ 'Romeo is banished!'--to speak that word,
+ Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
+ All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!'
+ There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
+ In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.--
+ Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?
+
+ _Nurse._ Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse.
+ Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
+
+ _Juliet._ Wash they his wounds with tears; mine shall be spent, 130
+ When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
+ Take up those cords.--Poor ropes, you are beguil'd,
+ Both you and I, for Romeo is exil'd;
+ He made you for a highway to my bed,
+ But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
+
+ _Nurse._ Hie to your chamber. I'll find Romeo
+ To comfort you; I wot well where he is.
+ Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night.
+ I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.
+
+ _Juliet._ O, find him! give this ring to my true knight,
+ And bid him come to take his last farewell. 141
+ [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III. _Friar Laurence's Cell_
+
+_Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man.
+ Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
+ And thou art wedded to calamity.
+
+_Enter_ ROMEO
+
+ _Romeo._ Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
+ What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
+ That I yet know not?
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Too familiar
+ Is my dear son with such sour company;
+ I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
+
+ _Romeo._ What less than doomsday is the prince's doom?
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, 10
+ Not body's death, but body's banishment.
+
+ _Romeo._ Ha, banishment! be merciful, say death,
+ For exile hath more terror in his look,
+ Much more than death; do not say banishment.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Hence from Verona art thou banished;
+ Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
+
+ _Romeo._ There is no world without Verona walls,
+ But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
+ Hence banished is banish'd from the world,
+ And world's exile is death. Then banished 20
+ Is death misterm'd; calling death banishment
+ Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
+ And smil'st upon the stroke that murthers me.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
+ Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
+ Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
+ And turn'd that black word death to banishment.
+ This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.
+
+ _Romeo._ 'Tis torture, and not mercy; heaven is here,
+ Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog 30
+ And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
+ Live here in heaven and may look on her,
+ But Romeo may not. More validity,
+ More honourable state, more courtship lives
+ In carrion-flies than Romeo. They may seize
+ On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
+ And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
+ Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
+ Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
+ But Romeo may not, he is banished. 40
+ This may flies do, when I from this must fly;
+ They are free men, but I am banished.
+ And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?
+ Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
+ No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
+ But 'banished' to kill me?--Banished!
+ O friar, the damned use that word in hell,
+ Howling attends it; how hast thou the heart,
+ Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
+ A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, 50
+ To mangle me with that word 'banished'?
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.
+
+ _Romeo._ O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;
+ Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
+ To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
+
+ _Romeo._ Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!
+ Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
+ Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,
+ It helps not, it prevails not; talk no more. 60
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ O, then I see that madmen have no ears.
+
+ _Romeo._ How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
+
+ _Romeo._ Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel.
+ Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
+ An hour but married, Tybalt murthered,
+ Doting like me and like me banished,
+ Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,
+ And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
+ Taking the measure of an unmade grave. 70
+ [_Knocking within._
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Arise; one knocks. Good Romeo, hide thyself.
+
+ _Romeo._ Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick groans
+ Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes. [_Knocking._
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Hark, how they knock!--Who's there?--Romeo, arise;
+ Thou wilt be taken.--Stay awhile!--Stand up; [_Knocking._
+ Run to my study.--By and by!--God's will,
+ What simpleness is this!--I come, I come! [_Knocking._
+ Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?
+
+ _Nurse._ [_Within_] Let me come in and you shall know my errand;
+ I come from Lady Juliet.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Welcome, then. 80
+
+_Enter_ NURSE
+
+ _Nurse._ O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
+ Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.
+
+ _Nurse._ O, he is even in my mistress' case,
+ Just in her case!
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ O woful sympathy!
+ Piteous predicament!
+
+ _Nurse._ Even so lies she,
+ Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.--
+ Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man.
+ For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand.
+ Why should you fall into so deep an O? 90
+
+ _Romeo._ Nurse!
+
+ _Nurse._ Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.
+
+ _Romeo._ Spak'st thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
+ Doth she not think me an old murtherer,
+ Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
+ With blood remov'd but little from her own?
+ Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
+ My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?
+
+ _Nurse._ O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;
+ And now falls on her bed; and then starts up, 100
+ And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,
+ And then down falls again.
+
+ _Romeo._ As if that name,
+ Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
+ Did murther her, as that name's cursed hand
+ Murther'd her kinsman.--O, tell me, friar, tell me,
+ In what vile part of this anatomy
+ Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
+ The hateful mansion. [_Drawing his sword._
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Hold thy desperate hand!
+ Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art;
+ Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote 110
+ The unreasonable fury of a beast.
+ Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
+ Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
+ Thou hast amaz'd me; by my holy order,
+ I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
+ Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
+ And slay thy lady too that lives in thee,
+ By doing damned hate upon thyself?
+ Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
+ Since birth and heaven and earth, all three do meet 120
+ In thee at once, which thou at once wouldst lose.
+ Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit,
+ Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,
+ And usest none in that true use indeed
+ Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit.
+ Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
+ Digressing from the valour of a man;
+ Thy dear love sworn, but hollow perjury,
+ Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;
+ Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, 130
+ Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
+ Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask,
+ Is set a-fire by thine own ignorance,
+ And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
+ What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
+ For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
+ There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
+ But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too.
+ The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend
+ And turns it to exile; there art thou happy. 140
+ A pack of blessings lights upon thy back,
+ Happiness courts thee in her best array;
+ But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench,
+ Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love.
+ Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
+ Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
+ Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her;
+ But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
+ For then thou canst not pass to Mantua,
+ Where thou shalt live till we can find a time 150
+ To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
+ Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
+ With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
+ Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.--
+ Go before, nurse, commend me to thy lady,
+ And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
+ Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto;
+ Romeo is coming.
+
+ _Nurse._ O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night
+ To hear good counsel; O, what learning is!-- 160
+ My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
+
+ _Romeo._ Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
+
+ _Nurse._ Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir;
+ Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. [_Exit._
+
+ _Romeo._ How well my comfort is reviv'd by this!
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state:
+ Either be gone before the watch be set,
+ Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence.
+ Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
+ And he shall signify from time to time 170
+ Every good hap to you that chances here.
+ Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.
+
+ _Romeo._ But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
+ It were a grief, so brief to part with thee.
+ Farewell. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE IV. _A Room in Capulet's House_
+
+_Enter_ CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, _and_ PARIS
+
+ _Capulet._ Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily
+ That we have had no time to move our daughter.
+ Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
+ And so did I.--Well, we were born to die.--
+ 'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night;
+ I promise you, but for your company,
+ I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
+
+ _Paris._ These times of woe afford no time to woo.--
+ Madam, good night; commend me to your daughter.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ I will, and know her mind early to-morrow; 10
+ To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.
+
+ _Capulet._ Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
+ Of my child's love. I think she will be rul'd
+ In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.--
+ Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
+ Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love,
+ And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next--
+ But, soft! what day is this?
+
+ _Paris._ Monday, my lord.
+
+ _Capulet._ Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon.
+ O' Thursday let it be; o' Thursday, tell her, 20
+ She shall be married to this noble earl.
+ Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
+ We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two;
+ For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
+ It may be thought we held him carelessly,
+ Being our kinsman, if we revel much.
+ Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
+ And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
+
+ _Paris._ My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.
+
+ _Capulet._ Well, get you gone; o' Thursday be it then.-- 30
+ Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
+ Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.--
+ Farewell, my lord.--Light to my chamber, ho!
+ Afore me, it is so very late, that we
+ May call it early by and by.--Good night. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE V. _Juliet's Chamber_
+
+_Enter_ ROMEO _and_ JULIET
+
+ _Juliet._ Wilt 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 she sings on yon pomegranate-tree.
+ Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
+
+ _Romeo._ It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
+ No nightingale; look, love, what envious streaks
+ Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.
+ Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
+ Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. 10
+ I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
+
+ _Juliet._ Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I.
+ It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
+ To be to thee this night a torch-bearer
+ And light thee on thy way to Mantua;
+ Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.
+
+ _Romeo._ Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
+ I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
+ I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
+ 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; 20
+ Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
+ The vaulty heaven so high above our heads.
+ I have more care to stay than will to go;
+ Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
+ How is 't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.
+
+ _Juliet._ It is, it is; hie hence, be gone, away!
+ It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
+ Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
+ Some say the lark makes sweet division;
+ This doth not so, for she divideth us. 30
+ Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
+ O, now I would they had chang'd voices too!
+ Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
+ Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day.
+ O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
+
+ _Romeo._ More light and light?--More dark and
+ dark our woes!
+
+_Enter_ Nurse
+
+ _Nurse._ Madam!
+
+ _Juliet._ Nurse?
+
+ _Nurse._ Your lady mother is coming to your chamber.
+ The day is broke; be wary, look about. [_Exit._
+
+ _Juliet._ Then, window, let day in, and let life out. 41
+
+ _Romeo._ Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.
+ [_Romeo descends._
+
+ _Juliet._ Art thou gone so? my lord, my love, my friend!
+ I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
+ For in a minute there are many days.
+ O, by this count I shall be much in years
+ Ere I again behold my Romeo!
+
+ _Romeo._ Farewell! I will omit no opportunity
+ That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
+
+ _Juliet._ O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again? 50
+
+ _Romeo._ I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve
+ For sweet discourses in our time to come.
+
+ _Juliet._ O God, I have an ill-divining soul!
+ Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,
+ As one dead in the bottom of a tomb;
+ Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
+
+ _Romeo._ And trust me, love, in my eye so do you;
+ Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! [_Exit._
+
+ _Juliet._ O Fortune, Fortune! all men call thee fickle;
+ If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him 60
+ That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, Fortune;
+ For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
+ But send him back.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ [_Within_] Ho, daughter! are you up?
+
+ _Juliet._ Who is 't that calls? is it my lady mother?
+ Is she not down so late, or up so early?
+ What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
+
+_Enter_ LADY CAPULET
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Why, how now, Juliet!
+
+ _Juliet._ Madam, I am not well.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?
+ What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
+ An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; 70
+ Therefore, have done. Some grief shows much of love,
+ But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
+
+ _Juliet._ Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend
+ Which you weep for.
+
+ _Juliet._ Feeling so the loss,
+ I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death
+ As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.
+
+ _Juliet._ What villain, madam?
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ That same villain, Romeo.
+
+ _Juliet._ Villain and he be many miles asunder.-- 80
+ God pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
+ And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ That is, because the traitor murtherer lives.
+
+ _Juliet._ Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands.
+ Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not;
+ Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,
+ Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,
+ Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram
+ That he shall soon keep Tybalt company; 90
+ And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.
+
+ _Juliet._ Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
+ With Romeo, till I behold him--dead--
+ Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd.--
+ Madam, if you could find out but a man
+ To bear a poison, I would temper it,
+ That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
+ Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors
+ To hear him nam'd, and cannot come to him,
+ To wreak the love I bore my cousin 100
+ Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him!
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.
+ But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.
+
+ _Juliet._ And joy comes well in such a needy time.
+ What are they, I beseech your ladyship?
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;
+ One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
+ Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy
+ That thou expect'st not, nor I look'd not for.
+
+ _Juliet._ Madam, in happy time, what day is that? 110
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,
+ The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
+ The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church,
+ Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
+
+ _Juliet._ Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too,
+ He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
+ I wonder at this haste; that I must wed
+ Ere he that should be husband comes to woo.
+ I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
+ I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear, 120
+ It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
+ Rather than Paris. These are news indeed!
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Here comes your father; tell him so yourself,
+ And see how he will take it at your hands.
+
+_Enter_ CAPULET _and_ Nurse
+
+ _Capulet._ When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;
+ But for the sunset of my brother's son
+ It rains downright.--
+ How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
+ Evermore showering? In one little body
+ Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind: 130
+ For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
+ Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
+ Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs,
+ Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
+ Without a sudden calm, will overset
+ Thy tempest-tossed body.--How now, wife!
+ Have you deliver'd to her our decree?
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.
+ I would the fool were married to her grave!
+
+ _Capulet._ Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife. 140
+ How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?
+ Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,
+ Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
+ So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
+
+ _Juliet._ Not proud you have, but thankful that you have;
+ Proud can I never be of what I hate,
+ But thankful even for hate that is meant love.
+
+ _Capulet._ How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this?
+ 'Proud' and 'I thank you' and 'I thank you not,'
+ And yet 'not proud'! Mistress minion, you, 150
+ Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,
+ But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
+ To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church,
+ Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
+ Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!
+ You tallow-face!
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Fie, fie! what, are you mad?
+
+ _Juliet._ Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
+ Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
+
+ _Capulet._ Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch!
+ I tell thee what, get thee to church o' Thursday 160
+ Or never after look me in the face.
+ Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;
+ My fingers itch.--Wife, we scarce thought us blest
+ That God had lent us but this only child,
+ But now I see this one is one too much,
+ And that we have a curse in having her;
+ Out on her, hilding!
+
+ _Nurse._ God in heaven bless her!
+ You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
+
+ _Capulet._ And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,
+ Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. 170
+
+ _Nurse._ I speak no treason.
+
+ _Capulet._ O, God ye god-den!
+
+ _Nurse._ May not one speak?
+
+ _Capulet._ Peace, you mumbling fool!
+ Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl,
+ For here we need it not.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ You are too hot.
+
+ _Capulet._ God's bread! it makes me mad! Day, night, late, early,
+ At home, abroad, alone, in company,
+ Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been
+ To have her match'd; and having now provided
+ A gentleman of noble parentage,
+ Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, 180
+ Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts,
+ Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man,--
+ And then to have a wretched puling fool,
+ A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
+ To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love,
+ I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.'--
+ But, an you will not wed, I'll pardon you;
+ Graze where you will, you shall not house with me.
+ Look to 't, think on 't, I do not use to jest.
+ Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise. 190
+ An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
+ An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets,
+ For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
+ Nor what is mine shall never do thee good.
+ Trust to 't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn. [_Exit._
+
+ _Juliet._ Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
+ That sees into the bottom of my grief?
+ O, sweet my mother, cast me not away!
+ Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
+ Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed 200
+ In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word;
+ Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. [_Exit._
+
+ _Juliet._ O God!--O nurse, how shall this be prevented?
+ My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
+ How shall that faith return again to earth,
+ Unless that husband send it me from heaven
+ By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me.--
+ Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
+ Upon so soft a subject as myself!-- 210
+ What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy?
+ Some comfort, nurse.
+
+ _Nurse._ Faith, here 'tis. Romeo
+ Is banished, and all the world to nothing
+ That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
+ Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
+ Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
+ I think it best you married with the county.
+ O, he's a lovely gentleman!
+ Romeo's a dishclout to him; an eagle, madam,
+ Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye 220
+ As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
+ I think you are happy in this second match,
+ For it excels your first; or if it did not,
+ Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were
+ As living here and you no use of him.
+
+ _Juliet._ Speakest thou from thy heart?
+
+ _Nurse._ And from my soul too;
+ Or else beshrew them both.
+
+ _Juliet._ Amen!
+
+ _Nurse._ What?
+
+ _Juliet._ Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
+ Go in, and tell my lady I am gone,
+ Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, 230
+ To make confession and to be absolv'd.
+
+ _Nurse._ Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. [_Exit._
+
+ _Juliet._ Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
+ Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
+ Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
+ Which she hath prais'd him with above compare
+ So many thousand times?--Go, counsellor;
+ Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.--
+ I'll to the friar, to know his remedy;
+ If all else fail, myself have power to die. [_Exit._
+
+[Illustration: JULIET AT LAURENCE'S CELL.]
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+SCENE I. _Friar Laurence's Cell_
+
+
+_Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE _and_ PARIS
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
+
+ _Paris._ My father Capulet will have it so,
+ And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ You say you do not know the lady's mind;
+ Uneven is the course, I like it not.
+
+ _Paris._ Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
+ And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
+ For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
+ Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
+ That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, 10
+ And in his wisdom hastes our marriage,
+ To stop the inundation of her tears,
+ Which, too much minded by herself alone,
+ May be put from her by society.
+ Now do you know the reason of this haste.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ [_Aside_] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.--
+ Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.
+
+_Enter_ JULIET
+
+ _Paris._ Happily met, my lady and my wife!
+
+ _Juliet._ That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
+
+ _Paris._ That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. 20
+
+ _Juliet._ What must be shall be.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ That's a certain text.
+
+ _Paris._ Come you to make confession to this father?
+
+ _Juliet._ To answer that, I should confess to you.
+
+ _Paris._ Do not deny to him that you love me.
+
+ _Juliet._ I will confess to you that I love him.
+
+ _Paris._ So will you, I am sure, that you love me.
+
+ _Juliet._ If I do so, it will be of more price,
+ Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
+
+_Paris._ Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears.
+
+ _Juliet._ The tears have got small victory by that, 30
+ For it was bad enough before their spite.
+
+ _Paris._ Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report.
+
+ _Juliet._ That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;
+ And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
+
+ _Paris._ Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.
+
+ _Juliet._ It may be so, for it is not mine own.--
+ Are you at leisure, holy father, now,
+ Or shall I come to you at evening mass?
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.--
+ My lord, we must entreat the time alone. 40
+
+ _Paris._ God shield I should disturb devotion!--
+ Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye;
+ Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss. [_Exit._
+
+ _Juliet._ O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
+ Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
+ It strains me past the compass of my wits.
+ I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
+ On Thursday next be married to this county.
+
+ _Juliet._ Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, 50
+ Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it;
+ If in thy wisdom thou canst give no help,
+ Do thou but call my resolution wise,
+ And with this knife I'll help it presently.
+ God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;
+ And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
+ Shall be the label to another deed,
+ Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
+ Turn to another, this shall slay them both.
+ Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time, 60
+ Give me some present counsel, or, behold,
+ 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
+ Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
+ Which the commission of thy years and art
+ Could to no issue of true honour bring.
+ Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
+ If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Hold, daughter! I do spy a kind of hope,
+ Which craves as desperate an execution
+ As that is desperate which we would prevent. 70
+ If, rather than to marry County Paris,
+ Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
+ Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
+ A thing like death to chide away this shame
+ That cop'st with death himself to scape from it;
+ And, if thou dar'st, I'll give thee remedy.
+
+ _Juliet._ O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
+ From off the battlements of yonder tower;
+ Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
+ Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; 80
+ Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
+ O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
+ With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
+ Or bid me go into a new-made grave
+ And hide me with a dead man in his shroud,--
+ Things, that to hear them told, have made me tremble,--
+ And I will do it without fear or doubt,
+ To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
+ To marry Paris. Wednesday is to-morrow. 90
+ To-morrow night look that thou lie alone;
+ Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber.
+ Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
+ And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
+ When presently through all thy veins shall run
+ A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse
+ Shall keep his native progress but surcease.
+ No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;
+ The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
+ To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall, 100
+ Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
+ Each part, depriv'd of supple government,
+ Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death;
+ And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
+ Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,
+ And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
+ Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes
+ To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead.
+ Then, as the manner of our country is,
+ In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier 110
+ Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
+ Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
+ In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
+ Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
+ And hither shall he come; and he and I
+ Will watch thy waking, and that very night
+ Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
+ And this shall free thee from this present shame,
+ If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear
+ Abate thy valour in the acting it. 120
+
+ _Juliet._ Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous
+ In this resolve. I'll send a friar with speed
+ To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.
+
+ _Juliet._ Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford.
+ Farewell, dear father! [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II. _Hall in Capulet's House_
+
+_Enter_ CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, Nurse, _and two_ Servingmen
+
+ _Capulet._ So many guests invite as here are writ.--
+ [_Exit Servant._
+ Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.
+
+ _2 Servant._ You shall have none ill, sir, for I'll
+ try if they can lick their fingers.
+
+ _Capulet._ How canst thou try them so?
+
+ _2 Servant._ Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot
+ lick his own fingers; therefore he that cannot lick his
+ fingers goes not with me.
+
+ _Capulet._ Go, be gone.-- [_Exit Servant._
+ We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time. 10
+ What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence?
+
+ _Nurse._ Ay, forsooth.
+
+ _Capulet._ Well, he may chance to do some good on her;
+ A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.
+
+ _Nurse._ See where she comes from shrift with merry look.
+
+_Enter_ JULIET
+
+ _Capulet._ How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?
+
+ _Juliet._ Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin
+ Of disobedient opposition
+ To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd
+ By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here 20
+ And beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you!
+ Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you.
+
+ _Capulet._ Send for the county; go tell him of this.
+ I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
+
+ _Juliet._ I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell,
+ And gave him what becomed love I might,
+ Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.
+
+ _Capulet._ Why, I am glad on 't; this is well,--stand up.
+ This is as 't should be.--Let me see the county;
+ Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.-- 30
+ Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar,
+ All our whole city is much bound to him.
+
+ _Juliet._ Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
+ To help me sort such needful ornaments
+ As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ No, not till Thursday; there is time enough.
+
+ _Capulet._ Go, nurse, go with her; we'll to church to-morrow.
+ [_Exeunt Juliet and Nurse._
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ We shall be short in our provision;
+ 'Tis now near night.
+
+ _Capulet._ Tush, I will stir about,
+ And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife. 40
+ Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her.
+ I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone,
+ I'll play the housewife for this once.--What, ho!--
+ They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself
+ To County Paris, to prepare him up
+ Against to-morrow. My heart is wondrous light,
+ Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. [_Exeunt._
+
+Scene III. _Juliet's Chamber_
+
+_Enter_ JULIET _and_ Nurse
+
+ _Juliet._ Ay, those attires are best; but, gentle nurse,
+ I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night,
+ For I have need of many orisons
+ To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
+ Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full of sin.
+
+_Enter_ LADY CAPULET
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ What, are you busy, ho? need you my help?
+
+ _Juliet._ No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries
+ As are behoveful for our state to-morrow.
+ So please you, let me now be left alone,
+ And let the nurse this night sit up with you; 10
+ For, I am sure, you have your hands full all
+ In this so sudden business.
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Good night;
+ Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.
+ [_Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse._
+
+ _Juliet._ Farewell!--God knows when we shall meet again.
+ I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins
+ That almost freezes up the heat of life;
+ I'll call them back again to comfort me.--
+ Nurse!--What should she do here?
+ My dismal scene I needs must act alone.--
+ Come, vial.-- 20
+ What if this mixture do not work at all?
+ Shall I be married then to-morrow morning?
+ No, no!--this shall forbid it.--Lie thou there.--
+ [_Laying down a dagger._
+
+ What if it be a poison, which the friar
+ Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead,
+ Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd
+ Because he married me before to Romeo?
+ I fear it is; and yet, methinks, it should not,
+ For he hath still been tried a holy man.
+ How if, when I am laid into the tomb, 30
+ I wake before the time that Romeo
+ Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
+ Shall I not then be stifled in the vault,
+ To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
+ And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
+ Or, if I live, is it not very like,
+ The horrible conceit of death and night,
+ Together with the terror of the place,--
+ As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
+ Where for these many hundred years the bones 40
+ Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
+ Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
+ Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,
+ At some hours in the night spirits resort;--
+ Alack, alack, is it not like that I,
+ So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
+ And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth,
+ That living mortals hearing them run mad;--
+ O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
+ Environed with all these hideous fears? 50
+ And madly play with my forefathers' joints?
+ And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
+ And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
+ As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?--
+ O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost
+ Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
+ Upon a rapier's point.--Stay, Tybalt, stay!--
+ Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.
+ [_She throws herself on the bed._
+
+
+SCENE IV. _Hall in Capulet's House_
+
+_Enter_ LADY CAPULET _and_ Nurse
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Hold, take these keys and fetch more spices, nurse.
+
+ _Nurse._ They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.
+
+_Enter_ CAPULET
+
+ _Capulet._ Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd,
+ The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock.--
+ Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica;
+ Spare not for cost.
+
+ _Nurse._ Go, you cot-quean, go,
+ Get you to bed; faith, you'll be sick to-morrow
+ For this night's watching.
+
+ _Capulet._ No, not a whit. What! I have watch' ere now
+ All night for lesser cause and ne'er been sick. 10
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time,
+ But I will watch you from such watching now.
+ [_Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse._
+
+ _Capulet._ A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood!--
+
+_Enter three or four_ Servingmen, _with spits, logs, and baskets_
+
+ Now, fellow,
+ What's there?
+
+ _1 Servant._ Things for the cook, sir, but I know not what.
+
+ _Capulet._ Make haste, make haste.--[_Exit Servant._]
+ Sirrah, fetch drier logs;
+ Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.
+
+ _2 Servant._ I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,
+ And never trouble Peter for the matter. [_Exit._
+
+ _Capulet._ Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha!
+ Thou shalt be logger-head.--Good faith, 'tis day; 21
+ The county will be here with music straight,
+ For so he said he would. I hear him near.-- [_Music within._
+
+ Nurse!--Wife!--What, ho!--What, nurse, I say!
+
+ _Re-enter_ Nurse
+
+ Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up;
+ I'll go and chat with Paris.--Hie, make haste,
+ Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already;
+ Make haste, I say. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE V. _Juliet's Chamber_
+
+_Enter_ Nurse
+
+ _Nurse._ Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! Fast, I warrant her, she.--
+ Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed!
+ Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride!
+ What, not a word?--How sound is she asleep!
+ I needs must wake her.--Madam, madam, madam!
+ Ay, let the county take you in your bed;
+ He'll fright you up, i' faith.--Will it not be?
+ [_Undraws the curtains._
+
+ What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again!
+ I must needs wake you. Lady! lady! lady!--
+ Alas, alas!--Help, help! my lady's dead!-- 10
+ O, well-a-day, that ever I was born!--
+ Some aqua vitæ, ho!--My lord! my lady!
+
+_Enter_ LADY CAPULET
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ What noise is here?
+
+ _Nurse._ O lamentable day!
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ What is the matter?
+
+ _Nurse._ Look, look! O heavy day!
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ O me, O me! My child, my only life,
+ Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!--
+ Help, help! Call help.
+
+_Enter_ CAPULET
+
+ _Capulet._ For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come.
+
+ _Nurse._ She's dead, deceas'd, she's dead; alack the day!
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! 20
+
+ _Capulet._ Ha! let me see her. Out, alas! she's cold;
+ Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;
+ Life and these lips have long been separated.
+ Death lies on her like an untimely frost
+ Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
+
+ _Nurse._ O lamentable day!
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ O woful time!
+
+ _Capulet._ Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,
+ Ties up my tongue and will not let me speak.
+
+_Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE _and_ PARIS _with_ Musicians
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
+
+ _Capulet._ Ready to go, but never to return.-- 30
+ O son! the night before thy wedding-day
+ Hath Death lain with thy wife. See, there she lies,
+ Flower as she was, deflowered by him.
+ Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir;
+ My daughter he hath wedded. I will die,
+ And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's.
+
+ _Paris._ Have I thought long to see this morning's face,
+ And doth it give me such a sight as this?
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ Accurst, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!
+ Most miserable hour that e'er time saw 40
+ In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!
+ But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
+ But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
+ And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight!
+
+ _Nurse._ O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
+ Most lamentable day, most woful day,
+ That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
+ O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
+ Never was seen so black a day as this!
+ O woful day, O woful day! 50
+
+ _Paris._ Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
+ Most detestable Death, by thee beguil'd,
+ By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!
+ O love! O life! not life, but love in death!
+
+ _Capulet._ Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
+ Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now
+ To murther, murther our solemnity?--
+ O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!
+ Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead;
+ And with my child my joys are buried. 60
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not
+ In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
+ Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
+ And all the better is it for the maid.
+ Your part in her you could not keep from death,
+ But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
+ The most you sought was her promotion,
+ For 'twas your heaven she should be advanc'd;
+ And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd
+ Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? 70
+ O, in this love you love your child so ill
+ That you run mad seeing that she is well;
+ She's not well married that lives married long,
+ But she's best married that dies married young.
+ Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
+ On this fair corse, and, as the custom is,
+ In all her best array bear her to church;
+ For though fond nature bids us all lament,
+ Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.
+
+ _Capulet._ All things that we ordained festival 80
+ Turn from their office to black funeral:
+ Our instruments to melancholy bells,
+ Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast,
+ Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,
+ Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
+ And all things change them to the contrary.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Sir, go you in,--and, madam, go with him;--
+ And go, Sir Paris;--every one prepare
+ To follow this fair corse unto her grave.
+ The heavens do lower upon you for some ill; 90
+ Move them no more by crossing their high will.
+ [_Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar._
+
+ _1 Musician._ 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._
+
+ _1 Musician._ Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
+
+_Enter_ PETER
+
+ _Peter._ Musicians, O musicians, 'Heart's ease,
+ Heart's ease'; O, an you will have me live, play
+ 'Heart's ease.'
+
+ _1 Musician._ Why 'Heart's ease'?
+
+ _Peter._ O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 100
+ 'My heart is full of woe.' O, play me some merry
+ dump, to comfort me.
+
+ _1 Musician._ Not a dump we; 'tis no time to
+ play now.
+
+ _Peter._ You will not, then?
+
+ _1 Musician._ No.
+
+ _Peter._ I will then give it you soundly.
+
+ _1 Musician._ What will you give us?
+
+ _Peter._ No money, on my faith, but the gleek; I will give you the
+ minstrel. 110
+
+ _1 Musician._ Then will I give you the
+ serving-creature.
+
+ _Peter._ 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?
+
+ _1 Musician._ An you re us and fa us, you note
+ us.
+
+ _2 Musician._ Pray you, put up your dagger, and
+ put out your wit.
+
+ _Peter._ Then have at you with my wit! I will 120
+ drybeat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron
+ dagger. Answer me like men:
+
+ 'When griping grief the heart doth wound,
+ And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
+ Then music with her silver sound'--
+
+ why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver
+ sound'?--What say you, Simon Catling?
+
+ _1 Musician._ Marry, sir, because silver hath a
+ sweet sound.
+
+ _Peter._ Pretty!--What say you, Hugh Rebeck? 130
+
+ _2 Musician._ I say 'silver sound,' because musicians
+ sound for silver.
+
+ _Peter._ Pretty too!--What say you, James Soundpost?
+
+ _3 Musician._ Faith, I know not what to say.
+
+ _Peter._ O, I cry you mercy, you are the singer; I
+ will say for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,'
+ because musicians have no gold for sounding.
+
+ 'Then music with her silver sound
+ With speedy help doth lend redress.' [_Exit._
+
+ _1 Musician._ What a pestilent knave is this same! 141
+
+ _2 Musician._ Hang him, Jack!--Come, we'll in
+ here, tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. [_Exeunt._
+
+[Illustration: TOMB OF THE SCALIGERS, VERONA]
+
+
+
+
+ACT V
+
+
+SCENE I. _Mantua. A Street_
+
+_Enter_ ROMEO
+
+ _Romeo._ If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep
+ My dreams presage some joyful news at hand.
+ My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne,
+ And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit
+ Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
+ I dreamt my lady came and found me dead--
+ Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave to think!--
+ And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips
+ That I reviv'd and was an emperor.
+ Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, 10
+ When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!--
+
+_Enter_ BALTHASAR
+
+ News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar!
+ Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
+ How doth my lady? Is my father well?
+ How fares my Juliet? that I ask again,
+ For nothing can be ill if she be well.
+
+ _Balthasar._ Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
+ Her body sleeps in Capel's monument
+ And her immortal part with angels lives.
+ I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault 20
+ And presently took post to tell it you.
+ O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,
+ Since you did leave it for my office, sir.
+
+ _Romeo._ Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!--
+ Thou know'st my lodging; get me ink and paper,
+ And hire post-horses. I will hence to-night.
+
+ _Balthasar._ I do beseech you, sir, have patience;
+ Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
+ Some misadventure.
+
+ _Romeo._ Tush, thou art deceiv'd;
+ Leave me and do the thing I bid thee do. 30
+ Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?
+
+ _Balthasar._ No, my good lord.
+
+ _Romeo._ No matter; get thee gone
+ And hire those horses. I'll be with thee straight.--
+ [_Exit Balthasar._
+ Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
+ Let's see for means.--O mischief, thou art swift
+ To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
+ I do remember an apothecary,--
+ And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted
+ In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
+ Culling of simples. Meagre were his looks, 40
+ Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
+ And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
+ An alligator stuff'd, and other skins
+ Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves
+ A beggarly account of empty boxes,
+ Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds,
+ Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses,
+ Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
+ Noting this penury, to myself I said,
+ An if a man did need a poison now, 50
+ Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
+ Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
+ O, this same thought did but forerun my need,
+ And this same needy man must sell it me!
+ As I remember, this should be the house.
+ Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.--
+ What, ho! apothecary!
+
+_Enter_ Apothecary
+
+ _Apothecary._ Who calls so loud?
+
+ _Romeo._ Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor.
+ Hold, there is forty ducats; let me have
+ A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear 60
+ As will disperse itself through all the veins
+ That the life-weary taker may fall dead,
+ And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath
+ As violently as hasty powder fir'd
+ Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.
+
+ _Apothecary._ Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law
+ Is death to any he that utters them.
+
+ _Romeo._ Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,
+ And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
+ Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, 70
+ Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back,
+ The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law;
+ The world affords no law to make thee rich;
+ Then be not poor, but break it and take this.
+
+ _Apothecary._ My poverty, but not my will, consents.
+
+ _Romeo._ I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
+
+ _Apothecary._ Put this in any liquid thing you will,
+ And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
+ Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.
+
+ _Romeo._ There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, 80
+ Doing more murthers in this loathsome world
+ Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
+ I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.
+ Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh.--
+ Come, cordial and not poison, go with me
+ To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II. _Friar Laurence's Cell_
+
+_Enter_ FRIAR JOHN
+
+ _Friar John._ Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!
+
+_Enter_ FRIAR LAURENCE
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ This same should be the voice of Friar John.--
+ Welcome from Mantua; what says Romeo?
+ Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
+
+ _Friar John._ Going to find a barefoot brother out,
+ One of our order, to associate me,
+ Here in this city visiting the sick,
+ And finding him, the searchers of the town,
+ Suspecting that we both were in a house
+ Where the infectious pestilence did reign, 10
+ Seal'd up the doors and would not let us forth,
+ So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?
+
+ _Friar John._ I could not send it,--here it is again,--
+ Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
+ So fearful were they of infection.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
+ The letter was not nice, but full of charge
+ Of dear import, and the neglecting it
+ May do much danger. Friar John, go hence; 20
+ Get me an iron crow and bring it straight
+ Unto my cell.
+
+ _Friar John._ Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [_Exit._
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Now must I to the monument alone;
+ Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake.
+ She will beshrew me much that Romeo
+ Hath had no notice of these accidents;
+ But I will write again to Mantua,
+ And keep her at my cell till Romeo come.
+ Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III. _A Churchyard; in it a Tomb belonging to the Capulets_
+
+_Enter_ PARIS, _and his_ Page _bearing flowers and a torch_
+
+ _Paris._ Give me thy torch, boy; hence, and stand aloof;
+ Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
+ Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
+ Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
+ So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,
+ Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,
+ But thou shalt hear it; whistle then to me
+ As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
+ Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
+
+ _Page._ [_Aside_] I am almost afraid to stand alone 10
+ Here in the churchyard, yet I will adventure. [_Retires._
+
+ _Paris._ Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew.
+ O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones,
+ Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,
+ Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans;
+ The obsequies that I for thee will keep
+ Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.--
+ [_The Page whistles._
+
+ The boy gives warning something doth approach.
+ What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
+ To cross my obsequies and true love's rite? 20
+ What, with a torch!--muffle me, night, awhile.
+ [_Retires._
+
+_Enter_ ROMEO _and_ BALTHASAR, _with a torch, mattock, etc_.
+
+ _Romeo._ Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron.
+ Hold, take this letter; early in the morning
+ See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
+ Give me the light. Upon thy life, I charge thee,
+ Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof
+ And do not interrupt me in my course.
+ Why I descend into this bed of death
+ Is partly to behold my lady's face,
+ But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger 30
+ A precious ring, a ring that I must use
+ In dear employment. Therefore hence, be gone;
+ But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
+ In what I further shall intend to do,
+ By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint
+ And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs.
+ The time and my intents are savage-wild,
+ More fierce and more inexorable far
+ Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.
+
+ _Balthasar._ I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. 40
+
+ _Romeo._ So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that.
+ Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow.
+
+ _Balthasar._ [_Aside_] For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout;
+ His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [_Retires._
+
+ _Romeo._ Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
+ Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,
+ Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
+ And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!
+ [_Opens the tomb._
+
+ _Paris._ This is that banish'd haughty Montague
+ That murther'd my love's cousin,--with which grief, 50
+ It is supposed, the fair creature died,--
+ And here is come to do some villanous shame
+ To the dead bodies; I will apprehend him.--
+ [_Advances._
+ Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague!
+ Can vengeance be pursued further than death?
+ Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee.
+ Obey, and go with me, for thou must die.
+
+ _Romeo._ I must indeed, and therefore came I hither.
+ Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man.
+ Fly hence, and leave me; think upon these gone, 60
+ Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
+ Put not another sin upon my head,
+ By urging me to fury; O, be gone!
+ By heaven, I love thee better than myself;
+ For I come hither arm'd against myself.
+ Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say
+ A madman's mercy bade thee run away.
+
+ _Paris._ I do defy thy conjurations
+ And apprehend thee for a felon here. 69
+
+ _Romeo._ Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!
+ [They fight.
+
+ _Page._ O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. [_Exit._
+
+ _Paris._ O, I am slain!--[_Falls._] If thou be merciful,
+ Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [_Dies._
+
+ _Romeo._ In faith, I will.--Let me peruse this face.
+ Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris!
+ What said my man when my betossed soul
+ Did not attend him as we rode? I think
+ He told me Paris should have married Juliet;
+ Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
+ Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, 80
+ To think it was so?--O, give me thy hand,
+ One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
+ I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave,--
+ A grave? O, no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth;
+ For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
+ This vault a feasting presence full of light.
+ Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.--
+ [_Laying Paris in the tomb._
+ How oft when men are at the point of death
+ Have they been merry! which their keepers call
+ A lightning before death; O, how may I 90
+ Call this a lightning?--O my love! my wife!
+ Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
+ Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
+ Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
+ Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
+ And death's pale flag is not advanced there.--
+ Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
+ O, what more favour can I do to thee
+ Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain
+ To sunder his that was thine enemy? 100
+ Forgive me, cousin!--Ah, dear Juliet,
+ Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe
+ That unsubstantial Death is amorous,
+ And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
+ Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
+ For fear of that, I still will stay with thee,
+ And never from this palace of dim night
+ Depart again. Here, here will I remain
+ With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here
+ Will I set up my everlasting rest, 110
+ And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
+ From this world-wearied flesh.--Eyes, look your last!
+ Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you
+ The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
+ A dateless bargain to engrossing death!--
+ Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
+ Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
+ The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
+ Here's to my love! [_Drinks._]--O true apothecary! 119
+ Thy drugs are quick.--Thus with a kiss I die. [_Dies._
+
+_Enter_, _at the other end of the churchyard_, FRIAR LAURENCE, _with a
+lantern_, _crow_, _and spade_
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night
+ Have my old feet stumbled at graves!--Who's there?
+
+ _Balthasar._ Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,
+ What torch is yond that vainly lends his light
+ To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,
+ It burneth in the Capels' monument.
+
+ _Balthasar._ It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,
+ One that you love.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Who is it?
+
+ _Balthasar._ Romeo. 129
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ How long hath he been there?
+
+ _Balthasar._ Full half an hour.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Go with me to the vault.
+
+ _Balthasar._ I dare not, sir;
+ My master knows not but I am gone hence,
+ And fearfully did menace me with death
+ If I did stay to look on his intents.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Stay, then; I 'll go alone.--Fear comes upon me;
+ O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing!
+
+ _Balthasar._ As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
+ I dreamt my master and another fought,
+ And that my master slew him. [_Exit._
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ Romeo!-- [_Advances._
+ Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains 140
+ The stony entrance of this sepulchre?--
+ What mean these masterless and gory swords
+ To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?--
+ [_Enters the tomb._
+ Romeo! O, pale!--Who else? what, Paris too?
+ And steep'd in blood?--Ah, what an unkind hour
+ Is guilty of this lamentable chance!--
+ The lady stirs. [_Juliet wakes._
+
+ _Juliet._ O comfortable friar! where is my lord?--
+ I do remember well where I should be,
+ And there I am.--Where is my Romeo? 150
+ [_Noise within._
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ I hear some noise.--Lady, come from that nest
+ Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep;
+ A greater power than we can contradict
+ Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.
+ Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead,
+ And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee
+ Among a sisterhood of holy nuns.
+ Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
+ Come, go, good Juliet. [_Noise again._]--I dare no longer stay.
+
+ _Juliet._ Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. 160
+ [_Exit Friar Laurence._
+
+ What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand?
+ Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.--
+ O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop
+ To help me after?--I will kiss thy lips;
+ Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,
+ To make me die with a restorative. [_Kisses him._
+ Thy lips are warm.
+
+ _1 Watch._ [_Within_] Lead, boy; which way?
+
+ _Juliet._ Yea, noise? then I'll be brief.--O happy dagger!
+ [_Snatching Romeo's dagger._
+
+ This is thy sheath [_Stabs herself_]; there rest, and let me die.
+ [_Falls on Romeo's body, and dies._
+
+_Enter_ Watch, _with the_ Page _of_ PARIS
+
+ _Page._ This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn. 171
+
+ _1 Watch._ The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard.
+ Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach.-- [_Exeunt some._
+ Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;
+ And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead,
+ Who here hath lain these two days buried.--
+ Go, tell the prince;--run to the Capulets;--
+ Raise up the Montagues;--some others search.--
+ [_Exeunt other Watchmen._
+ We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
+ But the true ground of all these piteous woes 180
+ We cannot without circumstance descry.
+
+_Re-enter some of the_ Watch, _with_ BALTHASAR
+
+ _2 Watch._ Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard.
+
+ _1 Watch._ Hold him in safety till the prince come hither.
+
+_Re-enter others of the_ Watch, _with_ FRIAR LAURENCE
+
+ _3 Watch._ Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and weeps.
+ We took this mattock and this spade from him,
+ As he was coming from this churchyard side.
+
+ _1 Watch._ A great suspicion; stay the friar too.
+
+_Enter the_ PRINCE _and_ Attendants
+
+ _Prince._ What misadventure is so early up
+ That calls our person from our morning's rest?
+
+_Enter_ CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, _and others_
+
+ _Capulet._ What should it be that they so shriek abroad? 190
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ The people in the street cry Romeo,
+ Some Juliet, and some Paris, and all run
+ With open outcry toward our monument.
+
+ _Prince._ What fear is this which startles in our ears?
+
+ _1 Watch._ Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain;
+ And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,
+ Warm and new kill'd.
+
+ _Prince._ Search, seek, and know how this foul murther comes.
+
+ _1 Watch._ Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man,
+ With instruments upon them fit to open 200
+ These dead men's tombs.
+
+ _Capulet._ O heaven!--O wife, look how our daughter bleeds!
+ This dagger hath mista'en,--for, lo, his house
+ Is empty on the back of Montague,--
+ And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom!
+
+ _Lady Capulet._ O me! this sight of death is as a bell
+ That warns my old age to a sepulchre.
+
+_Enter_ MONTAGUE _and others_
+
+ _Prince._ Come, Montague; for thou art early up,
+ To see thy son and heir more early down.
+
+ _Montague._ Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; 210
+ Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath.
+ What further woe conspires against mine age?
+
+ _Prince._ Look, and thou shalt see.
+
+ _Montague._ O thou untaught! what manners is in this,
+ To press before thy father to a grave?
+
+ _Prince._ Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
+ Till we can clear these ambiguities,
+ And know their spring, their head, their true descent;
+ And then will I be general of your woes
+ And lead you even to death. Meantime forbear, 220
+ And let mischance be slave to patience.--
+ Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ I am the greatest, able to do least,
+ Yet most suspected, as the time and place
+ Doth make against me, of this direful murther;
+ And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
+ Myself condemned and myself excus'd.
+
+ _Prince._ Then say at once what thou dost know in this.
+
+ _Friar Laurence._ I will be brief, for my short date of breath
+ Is not so long as is a tedious tale. 230
+ Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;
+ And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife.
+ I married them; and their stolen marriage-day
+ Was Tybalt's doomsday, whose untimely death
+ Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this city,
+ For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd.
+ You, to remove that siege of grief from her,
+ Betroth'd and would have married her perforce
+ To County Paris; then comes she to me,
+ And with wild looks bid me devise some means 240
+ To rid her from this second marriage,
+ Or in my cell there would she kill herself.
+ Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
+ A sleeping potion, which so took effect
+ As I intended, for it wrought on her
+ The form of death; meantime I writ to Romeo
+ That he should hither come as this dire night,
+ To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
+ Being the time the potion's force should cease.
+ But he which bore my letter, Friar John, 250
+ Was stay'd by accident and yesternight
+ Return'd my letter back. Then all alone,
+ At the prefixed hour of her waking,
+ Came I to take her from her kindred's vault,
+ Meaning to keep her closely at my cell
+ Till I conveniently could send to Romeo;
+ But when I came, some minute ere the time
+ Of her awaking, here untimely lay
+ The noble Paris and true Romeo dead.
+ She wakes, and I entreated her come forth 260
+ And bear this work of heaven with patience;
+ But then a noise did scare me from the tomb,
+ And she too desperate would not go with me,
+ But, as it seems, did violence on herself.
+ All this I know, and to the marriage
+ Her nurse is privy; and, if aught in this
+ Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
+ Be sacrific'd some hour before his time
+ Unto the rigour of severest law.
+
+ _Prince._ We still have known thee for a holy man.--
+ Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this? 271
+
+ _Balthasar._ I brought my master news of Juliet's death,
+ And then in post he came from Mantua
+ To this same place, to this same monument.
+ This letter he early bid me give his father,
+ And threaten'd me with death, going in the vault,
+ If I departed not and left him there.
+
+ _Prince._ Give me the letter; I will look on it.--
+ Where is the county's page that rais'd the watch?--
+ Sirrah, what made your master in this place? 280
+
+ _Page._ He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave
+ And bid me stand aloof, and so I did.
+ Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb,
+ And by and by my master drew on him;
+ And then I ran away to call the watch.
+
+ _Prince._ This letter doth make good the friar's words,
+ Their course of love, the tidings of her death;
+ And here he writes that he did buy a poison
+ Of a poor pothecary, and therewithal
+ Came to this vault to die and lie with Juliet.-- 290
+ Where be these enemies?--Capulet!--Montague!
+ See, what a scourge is aid upon your hate,
+ That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!
+ And I, for winking at your discords too,
+ Have lost a brace of kinsmen; all are punish'd.
+
+ _Capulet._ O brother Montague, give me thy hand;
+ This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
+ Can I demand.
+
+ _Montague._ But I can give thee more;
+ For I will raise her statue in pure gold,
+ That while Verona by that name is known 300
+ There shall no figure at such rate be set
+ As that of true and faithful Juliet.
+
+ _Capulet._ As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie,
+ Poor sacrifices of our enmity!
+
+ Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
+ The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
+ Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
+ Some shall be pardon'd and some punished;
+ For never was a story of more woe 309
+ Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+
+
+NOTES [Illustration: THE NURSE AND PETER]
+
+
+
+
+NOTES
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+THE METRE OF THE PLAY.--It should be understood at the outset that
+_metre_, or the mechanism of verse, is something altogether distinct
+from the _music_ of verse. The one is matter of rule, the other of taste
+and feeling. Music is not an absolute necessity of verse; the metrical
+form is a necessity, being that which constitutes the verse.
+
+The plays of Shakespeare (with the exception of rhymed passages, and of
+occasional songs and interludes) are all in unrhymed or _blank_ verse;
+and the normal form of this blank verse is illustrated by the second
+line of the prologue to the present play: "In fair Verona, where we lay
+our scene."
+
+This line, it will be seen, consists of ten syllables, with the even
+syllables (2d, 4th, 6th, 8th, and 10th) accented, the odd syllables
+(1st, 3d, etc.) being unaccented. Theoretically, it is made up of five
+_feet_ of two syllables each, with the accent on the second syllable.
+Such a foot is called an _iambus_ (plural, _iambuses_, or the Latin
+_iambi_), and the form of verse is called _iambic_.
+
+This fundamental law of Shakespeare's verse is subject to certain
+modifications, the most important of which are as follows:--
+
+1. After the tenth syllable an unaccented syllable (or even two such
+syllables) may be added, forming what is sometimes called a _female_
+line; as in the 103d line of the first scene: "Here were the servants of
+your adversary." The rhythm is complete with the third syllable of
+_adversary_, the fourth being an extra eleventh syllable. In iv. 3. 27
+and v. 3. 256 we have two extra syllables,--the last two of _Romeo_ in
+both lines.
+
+2. The accent in any part of the verse may be shifted from an even to an
+odd syllable; as in line 3 of the prologue, "From ancient grudge break
+to new mutiny," where the accent is shifted from the sixth to the fifth
+syllable. See also i. 1. 92: "Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd
+hate;" where the accent is shifted from the second to the first
+syllable. This change occurs very rarely in the tenth syllable, and
+seldom in the fourth; and it is not allowable in two successive accented
+syllables.
+
+3. An extra unaccented syllable may occur in any part of the line; as in
+line 7 of the prologue, where the second syllable of _piteous_ is
+superfluous. In i. 1. 64 the third syllable of _Benvolio_, and in line
+71 below the second syllable of _Capulets_ and the second _the_ are both
+superfluous.
+
+4. Any unaccented syllable, occurring in an even place immediately
+before or after an even syllable which is properly accented, is reckoned
+as accented for the purposes of the verse; as, for instance, in lines 1,
+3, and 7 of the prologue. In 1 the last syllable of _dignity_ and in 3
+the last of _mutiny_ are metrically equivalent to accented syllables. In
+7 the same is true of the first syllable of _misadventur'd_ and the
+third of _overthrows_. In iv. 2. 18 ("Of disobedient opposition") only
+two regular accents occur, but we have a metrical accent on the first
+syllable of _disobedient_, and on the first and the last syllables of
+_opposition_, which word has metrically five syllables. In _disobedient_
+there is an extra unaccented syllable.
+
+5. In many instances in Shakespeare words must be _lengthened_ in order
+to fill out the rhythm:--
+
+(_a_) In a large class of words in which _e_ or _i_ is followed by
+another vowel, the _e_ or _i_ is made a separate syllable; as _ocean_,
+_opinion_, _soldier_, _patience_, _partial_, _marriage_, etc. For
+instance, iii. 5. 29 ("Some say the lark makes sweet division") appears
+to have only nine syllables, but _division_ is a quadrisyllable; and so
+is _devotion_ in iv. 1. 41: "God shield I should disturb devotion!"
+_Marriage_ is a trisyllable in iv. 1. 11, and also in v. 3. 241; and the
+same is true of _patience_ in v. 1. 27 v. 1. 27, v. 3. 221 and 261. This
+lengthening occurs most frequently at the end of the line.
+
+(_b_) Many monosyllables ending in _r_, _re_, _rs_, _res_, preceded by a
+long vowel or diphthong, are often made dissyllables; as _fare_, _fear_,
+_dear_, _fire_, _hair_, _hour_, _your_, etc. In iii. 1. 198: "Else, when
+he's found, that hour is his last," _hour_ is a dissyllable. If the word
+is repeated in a verse it is often both monosyllable and dissyllable; as
+in _M. of V._ iii. 2. 20: "And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it
+so," where either _yours_ (preferably the first) is a dissyllable, the
+other being a monosyllable. In _J.C._ iii. 1. 172: "As fire drives fire,
+so pity, pity," the first _fire_ is a dissyllable.
+
+(_c_) Words containing _l_ or _r_, preceded by another consonant, are
+often pronounced as if a vowel came between the consonants; as in i. 4.
+8: "After the prompter, at our entrance" [ent(e)rance]. See also _T. of
+S._ ii. 1. 158: "While she did call me rascal fiddler" [fidd(e)ler];
+_All's Well_, iii. 5. 43: "If you will tarry, holy pilgrim"
+[pilg(e)rim]; _C. of E._ v. 1. 360: "These are the parents of these
+children" (childeren, the original form of the word); _W.T._ iv. 4. 76:
+"Grace and remembrance [rememb(e)rance] be to you both!" etc. See also
+on ii. 4. 184 and iii. 1. 89 below.
+
+(_d_) Monosyllabic exclamations (_ay_, _O_, _yea_, _nay_, _hail_, etc.)
+and monosyllables otherwise emphasized are similarly lengthened; also
+certain longer words; as _commandement_ in _M. of V._ iv. 1. 442;
+_safety_ (trisyllable) in _Ham_. i. 3. 21; _business_ (trisyllable, as
+originally pronounced) in _J.C._ iv. 1. 22: "To groan and sweat under
+the business" (so in several other passages); and other words mentioned
+in the notes to the plays in which they occur.
+
+6. Words are also _contracted_ for metrical reasons, like plurals and
+possessives ending in a sibilant, as _balance_, _horse_ (for _horses_
+and _horse's_), _princess_, _sense_, _marriage_ (plural and possessive),
+_image_, etc. So _spirit_, _inter'gatories_, _unpleasant'st_, and other
+words mentioned in the notes on the plays.
+
+7. The _accent_ of words is also varied in many instances for metrical
+reasons. Thus we find both _révenue_ and _revénue_ in the first scene of
+the _M.N.D._ (lines 6 and 158), _óbscure_ and _obscúre_, _púrsue_ and
+_pursúe_, _cóntrary_ (see note on iii. 2. 64) and _contráry_, _contráct_
+(see on ii. 2. 117) and _cóntract_, etc.
+
+These instances of variable accent must not be confounded with those in
+which words were uniformly accented differently in the time of
+Shakespeare; like _aspéct_, _impórtune_ (see on i. 1. 142), _perséver_
+(never _persevére_), _perséverance_, _rheúmatic_, etc.
+
+8. _Alexandrines_, or verses of twelve syllables, with six accents,
+occur here and there; as in the inscriptions on the caskets in _M. of
+V._, and occasionally in this play. They must not be confounded with
+female lines with two extra syllables (see on 1 above) or with other
+lines in which two extra unaccented syllables may occur.
+
+9. _Incomplete_ verses, of one or more syllables, are scattered through
+the plays. See i. 1. 61, 69, 162, 163, 164, 198, etc.
+
+10. _Doggerel_ measure is used in the very earliest comedies (_L. L. L._
+and _C. of E._ in particular) in the mouths of comic characters, but
+nowhere else in those plays, and never anywhere after 1597 or 1598.
+There is no instance of it in this play.
+
+11. _Rhyme_ occurs frequently in the early plays, but diminishes with
+comparative regularity from that period until the latest. Thus, in
+_L. L. L._ there are about 1100 rhyming verses (about one-third of the
+whole number), in the _M.N.D._ about 900, and in _Rich. II._ about 500,
+while in _Cor._ and _A. and C._ there are only about 40 each, in the
+_Temp._ only two, and in the _W.T._ none at all, except in the chorus
+introducing act iv. Songs, interludes, and other matter not in
+ten-syllable measure are not included in this enumeration. In the
+present play, out of about 2500 ten-syllable verses, nearly 500 are in
+rhyme.
+
+_Alternate_ rhymes are found only in the plays written before 1599 or
+1600. In the _M. of V._ there are only four lines at the end of iii. 2.
+In _Much Ado_ and _A.Y.L._, we also find a few lines, but none at all in
+subsequent plays. Examples in this play are the prologue, the chorus at
+the beginning of act ii., and the last speech of act. v. See also
+passages in i. 2, i. 5, and v. 3.
+
+_Rhymed couplets_ or "rhyme-tags" are often found at the end of scenes;
+as in the first scene, and eleven other scenes, of the present play. In
+_Ham._ 14 out of 20 scenes, and in _Macb._ 21 out of 28, have such
+"tags"; but in the latest plays they are not so frequent. The _Temp_.,
+for instance, has but one, and the _W.T._ none.
+
+12. In this edition of Shakespeare, the final _-ed_ of past tenses and
+participles is printed _-'d_ when the word is to be pronounced in the
+ordinary way; as in _star-cross'd_, line 6, and _misadventur'd_, line 7,
+of the prologue. But when the metre requires that the _-ed_ be made a
+separate syllable, the _e_ is retained; as in _moved_, line 85, of the
+first scene, where the word is a dissyllable. The only variation from
+this rule is in verbs like _cry_, _die_, _sue_, etc., the _-ed_ of which
+is very rarely made a separate syllable.
+
+SHAKESPEARE'S USE OF VERSE AND PROSE IN THE PLAYS.--This is a subject to
+which the critics have given very little attention, but it is an
+interesting study. In this play we find scenes entirely in verse (none
+entirely in prose) and others in which the two are mixed. In general, we
+may say that verse is used for what is distinctly poetical, and prose
+for what is not poetical. The distinction, however, is not so clearly
+marked in the earlier as in the later plays. The second scene of the _M.
+of V._, for instance, is in prose, because Portia and Nerissa are
+talking about the suitors in a familiar and playful way; but in the
+_T.G. of V._, where Julia and Lucetta are discussing the suitors of the
+former in much the same fashion, the scene is in verse. Dowden,
+commenting on _Rich. II._, remarks: "Had Shakespeare written the play a
+few years later, we may be certain that the gardener and his servants
+(iii. 4) would not have uttered stately speeches in verse, but would
+have spoken homely prose, and that humour would have mingled with the
+pathos of the scene. The same remark may be made with reference to the
+subsequent scene (v. 5) in which his groom visits the dethroned king in
+the Tower." Comic characters and those in low life generally speak in
+prose in the later plays, as Dowden intimates, but in the very earliest
+ones doggerel verse is much used instead. See on 10 above.
+
+The change from prose to verse is well illustrated in the third scene of
+the _M. of V._ It begins with plain prosaic talk about a business
+matter; but when Antonio enters, it rises at once to the higher level of
+poetry. The sight of Antonio reminds Shylock of his hatred of the
+Merchant, and the passion expresses itself in verse, the vernacular
+tongue of poetry. We have a similar change in the first scene of _J.C._,
+where, after the quibbling "chaff" of the mechanics about their trades,
+the mention of Pompey reminds the Tribune of their plebeian fickleness,
+and his scorn and indignation flame out in most eloquent verse.
+
+The reasons for the choice of prose or verse are not always so clear as
+in these instances. We are seldom puzzled to explain the prose, but not
+unfrequently we meet with verse where we might expect prose. As
+Professor Corson remarks (_Introduction to Shakespeare_, 1889),
+"Shakespeare adopted verse as the general tenor of his language, and
+therefore expressed much in verse that is within the capabilities of
+prose; in other words, his verse constantly encroaches upon the domain
+of prose, but his prose can never be said to encroach upon the domain of
+verse." If in rare instances we think we find exceptions to this latter
+statement, and prose actually seems to usurp the place of verse, I
+believe that careful study of the passage will prove the supposed
+exception to be apparent rather than real.
+
+SOME BOOKS FOR TEACHERS AND STUDENTS.--A few out of the many books that
+might be commended to the teacher and the critical student are the
+following: Halliwell-Phillipps's _Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare_
+(7th ed. 1887); Sidney Lee's _Life of Shakespeare_ (1898; for ordinary
+students the abridged ed. of 1899 is preferable); Schmidt's _Shakespeare
+Lexicon_ (3d ed. 1902); Littledale's ed. of Dyce's _Glossary_ (1902);
+Bartlett's _Concordance to Shakespeare_ (1895); Abbott's _Shakespearian
+Grammar_ (1873); Furness's "New Variorum" ed. of _Romeo and Juliet_
+(1871; encyclopædic and exhaustive); Dowden's _Shakspere: His Mind and
+Art_ (American ed. 1881); Hudson's _Life, Art, and Characters of
+Shakespeare_ (revised ed. 1882); Mrs. Jameson's _Characteristics of
+Women_ (several eds., some with the title, _Shakespeare Heroines_); Ten
+Brink's _Five Lectures on Shakespeare_ (1895); Boas's _Shakespeare and
+His Predecessors_ (1895); Dyer's _Folk-lore of Shakespeare_ (American
+ed. 1884); Gervinus's _Shakespeare Commentaries_ (Bunnett's translation,
+1875); Wordsworth's Shakespeare's _Knowledge of the Bible_ (3d ed.
+1880); Elson's _Shakespeare in Music_ (1901).
+
+Some of the above books will be useful to all readers who are interested
+in special subjects or in general criticism of Shakespeare. Among those
+which are better suited to the needs of ordinary readers and students,
+the following may be mentioned: Mabie's _William Shakespeare: Poet,
+Dramatist, and Man_ (1900); Phin's _Cyclopædia and Glossary of
+Shakespeare_ (1902; more compact and cheaper than Dyce); Dowden's
+_Shakspere Primer_ (1877; small but invaluable); Rolfe's _Shakespeare
+the Boy_ (1896; treating of the home and school life, the games and
+sports, the manners, customs, and folk-lore of the poet's time);
+Guerber's _Myths of Greece and Rome_ (for young students who may need
+information on mythological allusions not explained in the notes).
+
+Black's _Judith Shakespeare_ (1884; a novel, but a careful study of the
+scene and the time) is a book that I always commend to young people, and
+their elders will also enjoy it. The Lambs' _Tales from Shakespeare_ is
+a classic for beginners in the study of the dramatist; and in Rolfe's
+ed. the plan of the authors is carried out in the Notes by copious
+illustrative quotations from the plays. Mrs. Cowden-Clarke's _Girlhood
+of Shakespeare's Heroines_ (several eds.) will particularly interest
+girls; and both girls and boys will find Bennett's _Master Skylark_
+(1897) and Imogen Clark's _Will Shakespeare's Little Lad_ (1897) equally
+entertaining and instructive.
+
+H. Snowden Ward's _Shakespeare's Town and Times_ (2d ed. 1903) and John
+Leyland's _Shakespeare Country_ (enlarged ed. 1903) are copiously
+illustrated books (yet inexpensive) which may be particularly commended
+for school libraries.
+
+ABBREVIATIONS IN THE NOTES.--The abbreviations of the names of
+Shakespeare's plays will be readily understood; as _T.N._ for _Twelfth
+Night_, _Cor._ for _Coriolanus_, _3 Hen. VI._ for _The Third Part of
+King Henry the Sixth_, etc. _P.P._ refers to _The Passionate Pilgrim_;
+_V. and A._ to _Venus and Adonis_; _L.C._ to _Lover's Complaint_; and
+Sonn. to the _Sonnets_.
+
+Other abbreviations that hardly need explanation are _Cf._ (_confer_,
+compare), _Fol._ (following), _Id._ (_idem_, the same), and _Prol._
+(prologue). The numbers of the lines in the references (except for the
+present play) are those of the "Globe" edition (the cheapest and best
+edition of _Shakespeare_ in one compact volume), which is now generally
+accepted as the standard for line-numbers in works of reference
+(Schmidt's _Lexicon_, Abbott's _Grammar_, Dowden's _Primer_, the
+publications of the New Shakspere Society, etc.). Every teacher and
+every critical student should have it at hand for reference.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+_Enter Chorus._ As Malone suggests, this probably meant only that the
+prologue was to be spoken by the same actor that personated the chorus
+at the end of act i. The prologue is omitted in the folio, but we cannot
+doubt that it was written by S. It is in form a sonnet, of the pattern
+adopted in his _Sonnets_. See comments upon it, p. 22 above.
+
+2. _Fair Verona._ The city is thus described in the opening lines of
+Brooke's poem:[4]--
+
+ "There is beyonde the Alps, a towne of auncient fame
+ Whose bright renoune yet shineth cleare, Verona men it name:
+ Bylt in an happy time, bylt on a fertile soyle:
+ Maynteined by the heauenly fates, and by the townish toyle.
+ The fruitefull hilles aboue, the pleasant vales belowe,
+ The siluer streame with chanell depe, that through the towne doth flow:
+ The store of springes that serue for vse, and eke for ease:
+ And other moe commodities, which profite may and please;
+ Eke many certaine signes of thinges betyde of olde,
+ To fyll the houngry eyes of those that curiously beholde:
+ Doe make this towne to be preferde aboue the rest
+ Of Lumbard townes, or at the least compared with the best."
+
+6. _Star-cross'd._ For the astrological allusion, cf. i. 4. 104, v. 1.
+24, and v. 3. 111 below. The title of one of Richard Braithwaite's
+works, published in 1615, is "Love's Labyrinth: or the True Lover's
+Knot, including the disastrous falls of two Star-crost lovers Pyramus
+and Thisbe."
+
+8. _Doth._ The reading of the quartos, changed by most of the modern
+editors to "Do." Ulrici considers it the old third person plural in
+-_th_. He adds that S. mostly uses it only where it has the force of
+the singular, namely, where the sense is collective, as in _overthrows_
+here. Cf. v. 1. 70 below.
+
+12. _Two hours._ Cf. _Hen. VIII._ prol. 13: "may see away their shilling
+Richly in two short hours."
+
+[Footnote 4: The entire poem is reprinted in the _Variorum_ of 1821, in
+Collier's _Shakespeare's Library_ (and Hazlitt's revised ed. of the
+same), in Halliwell-Phillipps's folio ed. of Shakespeare, and by the New
+Shakspere Society (edited by P.A. Daniel) in 1875. I have followed
+Daniel's ed.]
+
+
+
+
+ACT I
+
+
+SCENE I.--1. _Carry coals._ "Endure affronts" (Johnson). According to
+Nares, the phrase got this meaning from the fact that the carriers of
+wood and coals were esteemed the very lowest of menials. Cf. _Hen. V._
+iii. 2. 49, where there is a play upon the expression. Steevens quotes
+Nash, _Have With You_, etc.: "We will bear no coles, I warrant you;"
+Marston, _Antonio and Mellida_, part ii.: "He has had wrongs; and if I
+were he I would bear no coles," etc. Dyce cites Cotgrave, _Fr. Dict._:
+"_Il a du feu en la teste_. Hee is very chollericke, furious, or
+couragious; he will carrie no coales." He might have added from
+Sherwood's English-French supplement to Cotgrave (ed. 1632): "That will
+carrie no coales, _Brave_."
+
+3. _Colliers._ The preceding note explains how _colliers_ came to be a
+term of abuse. The _New Eng. Dict._ adds that it may have been due to
+"the evil repute of the collier for cheating." Steevens compares _T.N._
+iii. 4. 130: "hang him, foul collier!"
+
+4. _Choler._ For the play upon the word, cf. Jonson, _Every Man in his
+Humour_, iii. 2:--
+
+ "_Cash._ Why, how now, Cob? what moves thee to this cholar, ha?
+
+ _Cob._ Collar, master Thomas? I scorn your collar, I sir; I am none
+ of your cart-horse, though I carry and draw water."
+
+15. _Take the wall._ Claim the right of passing next the wall when
+meeting a person on the street; a right valued in old-fashioned streets
+with narrow sidewalks or none at all. To _give the wall_ was an act of
+courtesy; to _take the wall_ might be an insult.
+
+17. _The weakest goes to the wall._ A familiar proverb.
+
+28. _Here comes two_, etc. Halliwell-Phillipps remarks that the
+partisans of the Montagues wore a token in their hats to distinguish
+them from the Capulets; hence throughout the play they are known at a
+distance. Cf. Gascoigne, _Devise of a Masque, written for Viscount
+Montacute_, 1575:--
+
+ "And for a further proofe, he shewed in hys hat
+ Thys token which the _Mountacutes_ did beare alwaies, for that
+ They covet to be knowne from _Capels_, where they pass,
+ For ancient grutch whych long ago 'tweene these two houses was."
+
+39. _I will bite my thumb at them._ An insult explained by Cotgrave,
+_Fr. Dict._ (ed. 1632): "_Nique, faire la nique_, to threaten or defie,
+by putting the thumbe naile into the mouth, and with a ierke (from th'
+upper teeth) make it to knocke."
+
+44. _Of our side._ On our side (_on = of_, as often).
+
+55. _Here comes one_, etc. "Gregory may mean Tybalt, who enters directly
+after Benvolio, but on a different part of the stage. The eyes of the
+servant may be directed the way he sees Tybalt coming, and in the mean
+time Benvolio enters on the opposite side" (Steevens).
+
+60. _Swashing blow._ A dashing or smashing blow (Schmidt). Cf. Jonson,
+_Staple of News_, v. 1: "I do confess a swashing blow." Cf. also _swash_
+= bully, bluster; as in _A.Y.L._ i. 3. 122: "I'll have a martial and a
+swashing outside."
+
+63. _Art thou drawn?_ Cf. _Temp._ ii. 1. 308: "Why are you drawn?"
+_Heartless_ = cowardly, spiritless; as in _R. of L._ 471, 1392.
+
+69. _Have at thee._ Cf. iv. 5. 119 below; also _C. of E._ iii. 1. 51,
+etc.
+
+70. _Clubs._ The cry of _Clubs_! in a street affray is of English
+origin, as the _bite my thumb_ is of Italian. It was the rallying-cry of
+the London apprentices. Cf. _Hen. VIII._ v. 4. 53, _A.Y.L._ v. 2. 44,
+etc. _Bills_ were the pikes or halberds formerly carried by the English
+infantry and afterwards by watchmen. The _partisan_ was "a sharp
+two-edged sword placed on the summit of a staff for the defence of
+foot-soldiers against cavalry" (Fairholt). Cf. _Ham._ i. 1. 140: "Shall
+I strike at it with my partisan?"
+
+71. _Enter_ CAPULET _in his gown_. Cf. _Ham._ (quarto) iii. 4. 61:
+"_Enter the ghost in his night gowne_;" that is, his dressing-gown. See
+also _Macb._ ii. 2. 70: "Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us
+And show us to be watchers;" and _Id._ v. 1. 5: "I have seen her rise
+from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her," etc. It is early morning,
+and Capulet comes out before he is dressed.
+
+72. _Long sword._ The weapon used in active warfare; a lighter and
+shorter one being worn for ornament (see _A.W._ ii. 1. 32: "no sword
+worn But one to dance with"). Cf. _M.W._ ii. 1. 236: "with my long sword
+I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats."
+
+73. _A crutch, a crutch!_ The lady's sneer at her aged husband. For her
+own age, see on i. 3. 51 below.
+
+75. _In spite._ In scornful defiance. Cf. 3 _Hen. VI._ i. 3. 158,
+_Cymb._ iv. 1. 16, etc.
+
+79. _Neighbour-stained._ Because used in civil strife.
+
+84. _Mistemper'd._ Tempered to an ill end (Schmidt). Steevens explains
+it as = angry. The word occurs again in _K. John_, v. 1. 12: "This
+inundation of mistemper'd humour."
+
+85. _Moved._ That is, "mov'd to wrath" (_T.A._ i. 1. 419). Cf. _L. L. L._
+v. 2. 694, _J.C._ iv. 3. 58, etc.
+
+89. _Ancient._ Not of necessity old in years, but long settled there and
+accustomed to peace and order (Delius).
+
+90. _Grave beseeming_. Grave and becoming. Cf. _Ham._ iv. 7. 79:--
+
+ "for youth no less becomes
+ The light and careless livery that it wears,
+ Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
+ Importing health and graveness."
+
+92. _Canker'd with peace_, etc. _Canker'd_ (= corroded) is applied
+literally to the partisans long disused, and figuratively to their
+owners. Cf. _K. John_, ii. 1. 194: "A canker'd grandam's will."
+
+99. _Freetown._ S. takes the name from Brooke's poem. It translates the
+_Villa Franca_ of the Italian story.
+
+101. S. uses _set abroach_ only in a bad sense. Cf. 2 _Hen. IV._ iv. 2.
+14: "Alack, what mischiefs might be set abroach;" and _Rich. III._ i. 3.
+325: "The secret mischiefs that I set abroach."
+
+109. _Nothing hurt withal._ Nowise harmed by it. _Who_ = which; as
+often.
+
+110. _While we_, etc. This line, with the change of _we_ to _they_, is
+found in the 1st quarto in iii. 1, where Benvolio describes the brawl in
+which Mercutio and Tybalt are slain (Daniel).
+
+113. _Saw you him to-day?_ This use of the past tense is not allowable
+now, but was common in Elizabethan English. Cf. _Cymb._ iv. 2. 66: "I
+saw him not these many years," etc.
+
+115. _The worshipp'd sun._ Cf. iii. 2. 25 below: "And pay no worship to
+the garish sun." See also _Lear_, i. 1. 111: "the sacred radiance of the
+sun;" and _Cymb._ iv. 4. 41: "the holy sun." It is remarkable that no
+German commentator has tried to make S. a Parsee.
+
+116. _Forth._ Cf. _M.N.D._ i. 1. 164: "Steal forth thy father's house,"
+etc.
+
+118. _Sycamore._ According to Beisly and Ellacombe, the _Acer
+pseudo-platanus_, which grows wild in Italy. It had been introduced into
+England before the time of S. He mentions it also in _L. L. L._ v. 2. 89
+and _Oth._ iv. 3. 41.
+
+119. _Rooteth._ Cf. _W.T._ i. 1. 25: "there rooted betwixt them such an
+affection," etc.
+
+121. _Ware._ Aware; but not to be printed as a contraction of that word.
+Cf. ii. 2. 103 below.
+
+123. _Affections._ Feelings, inclinations. Cf. _Ham._ iii. 1. 170:
+"Love! his affections do not that way tend," etc.
+
+124. _Which then_, etc. "The plain meaning seems to be that Benvolio,
+like Romeo, was indisposed for society, and sought to be most where most
+people were not to be found, being one too many, even when by himself"
+(Collier). Some editors follow Pope in reading (from 1st quarto) "That
+most are busied when they're most alone."
+
+127. _Who._ Him who; the antecedent omitted, as often when it is easily
+supplied.
+
+131. _All so soon. All_ is often used in this "intensive" way.
+
+134. _Heavy._ S. is fond of playing on _heavy_ and _light._ Cf. _R. of
+L._ 1574, _T.G. of V._ i. 2. 84, _M. of V._ v. 1. 130, etc.
+
+142. _Importun'd._ Accented on the second syllable, as regularly in S.
+
+148. _With._ By; as often of the agent or cause.
+
+150. _Sun._ The early eds. all have "same." The emendation is due to
+Theobald and is almost universally adopted.
+
+156. _To hear._ _As_ to hear; a common ellipsis.
+
+157. _Is the day so young?_ Is it not yet noon? _Good morrow_ or _good
+day_ was considered proper only before noon, after which _good den_ was
+the usual salutation. Cf. i. 2. 57 below.
+
+158. _New._ Often used by S. in this adverbial way = just, lately. Cf.
+v. 3. 197 below. For _Ay me!_ see on ii. 1. 10.
+
+166. _In his view._ In appearance; opposed to _proof_ = experience. Cf.
+_Ham._ iii. 2. 179: "What my love is, proof hath made you know," etc.
+
+168. _Alas, that love, whose view_, etc. Alas "that love, though
+blindfolded, should see how to reach the lover's heart" (Dowden). _View_
+here = sight, or eyes.
+
+172. _Here's much_, etc. Romeo means that the fray has much to do with
+the hate between the rival houses, yet affects him more, inasmuch as his
+Rosaline is of the Capulet family.
+
+173-178. _O brawling love!_ etc. Cf. iii. 2. 73 fol. below.
+
+187. _Rais'd._ The reading of the 1st quarto, adopted by the majority of
+editors. The other early eds. have "made."
+
+188. _Purg'd._ That is, from smoke.
+
+191. _A choking gall_, etc. That is, "love kills and keeps alive, is a
+bane and an antidote" (Dowden).
+
+195. _Some other where._ Cf. _C. of E._ iv. 1. 30: "How if your husband
+start some other where?"
+
+196. _Sadness._ Seriousness. Cf. _A.W._ iv. 3. 230: "In good sadness, I
+do not know," etc. So _sadly_ just below = seriously, as in _Much Ado_,
+ii. 3. 229.
+
+203. _Mark-man._ The 3d and 4th folios have "marks-man." S. uses the
+word nowhere else.
+
+206. _Dian's wit._ Her way of thinking, her sentiments. S. has many
+allusions to Diana's chastity, and also to her connection with the moon.
+
+207. _Proof._ Used technically of armour. Cf. _Rich. II._ i. 3. 73: "Add
+proof unto mine armour with thy prayers;" _Ham._ ii. 2. 512: "Mars's
+armour forg'd for proof eterne," etc.
+
+209. _The siege_, etc. Cf. _V. and A._ 423:--
+
+ "Remove your siege from my unyielding heart;
+ To love's alarm it will not ope the gate."
+
+See also _R. of L._ 221, _A.W._ iii. 7. 18, _Cymb._ iii. 4. 137, etc.
+
+213. _That when she dies_, etc. "_She is rich in beauty_, and _only
+poor_ in being subject to the lot of humanity, that _her store_, or
+riches, _can be destroyed by death_, who shall, by the same blow, put an
+end to beauty" (Johnson); or, as Mason puts it, "she is poor because she
+leaves no part of her store behind her." _Her store_ may mean "beauty's
+store," as Dowden suggests. Cf. _V. and A._ 1019: "For he, being dead,
+with him is beauty slain."
+
+215. _In that sparing makes huge waste._ Cf. _Sonn._ 1. 12: "And, tender
+churl, makes waste in niggarding."
+
+216. _Starv'd._ The early eds. (except the 4th folio) have "sterv'd,"
+the old form of the word, found in several other passages in the folio
+(_M. of V._ iv. 1. 138, _Cor._ iv. 2. 51, etc.) and rhyming with
+_deserve_ in _Cor._ ii. 3. 120. Cf. Spenser, _F.Q._ iv. 1. 4:--
+
+ "Untill such time as noble Britomart
+ Released her, that else was like to sterve
+ Through cruell knife that her deare heart did kerve."
+There it means to die (its original sense), as in _Hen. VII._ v. 3. 132.
+
+226. _To call hers, exquisite._ "That is, to call hers, which is
+exquisite, the more into my remembrance and contemplation" (Heath); or
+"to make her unparalleled beauty more the subject of thought and
+conversation" (Malone). For _question_ = conversation, cf. _A.Y.L._ iii.
+4. 39, v. 4. 167, etc. But why may not _question_ repeat the idea of
+_examine_? Benvolio says, "Examine other beauties;" Romeo replies, in
+substance, that the result of the examination will only be to prove her
+beauty superior to theirs and therefore the more extraordinary.
+
+227. _These happy masks._ Steevens took this to refer to "the masks worn
+by female spectators of the play;" but it is probably = the masks worn
+nowadays. They are called _happy_ as "being privileged to touch the
+sweet countenances beneath" (Clarke).
+
+229. _Strucken._ The early eds. have "strucken" or "strooken." S. also
+uses _struck_ (or _strook_) and _stricken_ as the participle.
+
+231. _Passing._ Often used adverbially but only before adjectives and
+adverbs. Cf. _L. L. L._ iv. 3. 103, _Much Ado_, ii. 1. 84, etc.
+
+235. _Pay that doctrine._ Give that instruction. Cf. _L. L. L._ iv. 3.
+350: "From women's eyes this doctrine I derive;" _A. and C._ v. 2.
+31:--
+
+ "I hourly learn
+ A doctrine of obedience," etc.
+
+
+SCENE II.--4. _Reckoning._ Estimation, reputation.
+
+9. _Fourteen years._ In Brooke's poem her father says, "Scarce saw she
+yet full xvi. yeres;" and in Paynter's novel "as yet shee is not
+attayned to the age of xviii. yeares."
+
+13. _Made._ The 1st quarto has "maried," which is followed by some
+editors. The antithesis of _make_ and _mar_ is a very common one in S.
+Cf. ii. 4. 110 below: "that God hath made for himself to mar." See also
+_L. L. L._ iv. 3. 191, _M.N.D._ i. 2. 39, _A.Y.L._ i. 1. 34, _T. of S._
+iv. 3. 97, _Macb._ ii. 3. 36, _Oth._ v. 1. 4, etc. On the other hand,
+examples of the opposition of _married_ and _marred_ are not uncommon
+in Elizabethan writers. Cf. _A.W._ ii. 3. 315: "A young man married is a
+man that's marr'd."
+
+14. _All my hopes but she._ Capulet seems to imply here that he has lost
+some children; but cf. iii. 5. 163 below.
+
+15. _My earth._ My world or my life; rather than my lands, my landed
+property, as some explain it. It was apparently suggested by the _earth_
+of the preceding line.
+
+17. _My will_, etc. My will is subordinate to her consent. The old man
+talks very differently in iii. 5 below.
+
+25. _Dark heaven._ The darkness of night. Cf. i. 5. 47 below.
+
+26. _Young men._ Malone compares _Sonn._ 98. 2:--
+
+ "When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim
+ Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing."
+
+29. _Female._ The quartos (except the 1st) and 1st folio have the
+curious misprint "fennell."
+
+30. _Inherit._ Possess; as in _Temp._ iv. 1. 154, _Rich. II._ ii. 1. 83,
+_Cymb._ iii. 2. 63, etc.
+
+32. _Which on more view_, etc. A perplexing line for which many
+emendations have been suggested. With the reading in the text the
+meaning seems to be: _which one_ (referring to _her of most merit_),
+after your further inspection of the many, my daughter (who is one of
+the number) may prove to be,--one in number, though one is no number.
+The quibble at the end alludes to the old proverb that "one is no
+number." Cf. _Sonn._ 136. 8: "Among a number one is reckon'd none."
+Dowden points thus: "Which on more view of, many--mine being one--May,"
+etc., and explains thus: "On more view of whom (that is, the lady of
+most merit), many (other ladies)--and my daughter among them--may stand
+in a count of heads, but in estimation (_reckoning_, with a play on the
+word) none can hold a place." The general sense of the passage is clear,
+whatever reading or analysis we adopt. Capulet says in substance: Come
+to my house to-night, and decide whom you like best of the beauties
+gathered there; if Juliet be the one, well and good. He has already
+told Paris that she shall be his if he can gain her love, but discreetly
+suggests that he look more carefully at the "fresh female buds" of
+Verona before plucking one to wear on his heart.
+
+36. _Written there._ Cf. Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "No Lady fayre or fowle was in Verona towne:
+ No knight or gentleman of high or lowe renowne:
+ But Capilet himselfe hath byd vnto his feast:
+ Or by his name in paper sent, appoynted as a geast."
+
+46. _One fire_, etc. Alluding to the old proverb that "fire drives out
+fire." Cf. _J.C._ iii. 1. 171: "As fire drives out fire, so pity pity;"
+_Cor._ iv. 7. 54: "One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail,"
+etc.
+
+48. _Holp._ Used by S. oftener than _helped_, for both the past tense
+and the participle.
+
+49. _Cures with._ Is cured by. S. does not elsewhere use _cure_
+intransitively. _Languish_ occurs again as a noun in _A. and C._ v. 2.
+42: "That rids our dogs of languish." On the passage cf. Brooke:--
+
+ "Ere long the townishe dames together will resort:
+ Some one of bewty, favour, shape, and of so lovely porte:
+ With so fast fixed eye, perhaps thou mayst beholde:
+ That thou shalt quite forget thy loue, and passions past of olde.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ The proverbe saith vnminded oft are they that are vnseene.
+ And as out of a planke a nayle a nayle doth drive:
+ So novell love out of the minde the auncient loue doth rive."
+
+52. _Your plantain-leaf._ The common plantain (_Plantago major_), which
+still holds a place in the domestic _materia medica_. For its use in
+healing bruises, cf. _L. L. L._ iii. 1. 74:--
+
+ "_Moth._ A wonder, master! here's a costard broken in a shin.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ _Costard._ O sir, plantain, a plain plantain! ... no salve, sir,
+ but a plantain!"
+
+Steevens quotes _Albumazar_: "Bring a fresh plantain leaf, I've broke my
+shin." _A broken shin_, like a _broken head_ (_M.W._ i. 125, _T.N._ v.
+1. 178, etc.) is one that is bruised, so that the blood runs, not one
+that is fractured. The plantain was supposed to have other virtues.
+Halliwell-Phillipps quotes Withals, _Little Dictionarie for Children_,
+1586: "The tode being smitten of the spyder in fighte, and made to swell
+with hir poyson, recovereth himselfe with plantaine."
+
+55. _Not mad, but bound_, etc. An allusion to the old-time treatment of
+the insane. Cf. _C. of E._ iv. 4. 97: "They must be bound and laid in
+some dark room;" and _A.Y.L._ iii. 2. 420: "Love is merely a madness,
+and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do."
+
+57. _Good-den._ Printed "godden" and "gooden" in the early eds., and a
+corruption of _good e'en_, or _good evening_. _God gi' good-den_ in the
+next line is printed "Godgigoden" in the quartos and first three folios,
+"God gi' Good-e'en" in the 4th folio. This salutation was used as soon
+as noon was past. See on i. 1. 157 above, and cf. ii. 4. 105 fol. below.
+
+64. _Rest you merry!_ For the full form, _God rest you merry_! (= God
+keep you merry), cf. _A.Y.L._ v. 1. 65, etc. It was a common form of
+salutation at meeting, and oftener at parting. Here the servant is about
+to leave, thinking that Romeo is merely jesting with him. Cf. 79 below.
+
+66-69. _Signior Martino_, etc. Probably meant to be prose, but some
+editors make bad verse of it.
+
+69. _Mercutio._ Mercutio here figures among the invited guests, although
+we find him always associating with the young men of the Montague
+family. He is the prince's "kinsman," and apparently on terms of
+acquaintance with both the rival houses, though more intimate with the
+Montagues than with the Capulets.
+
+71. _Rosaline._ This shows that Rosaline is a Capulet.
+
+74. _Up._ Dowden plausibly prints "Up--," assuming that "Romeo eagerly
+interrupts the servant, who would have said 'Up to our house.'"
+
+82. _Crush a cup_, etc. A common expression in the old plays. We still
+say "crack a bottle."
+
+87. _Unattainted._ Unprejudiced, impartial; used by S. only here.
+
+91. _Fires._ The early eds. have "fire," which White retains as an
+admissible rhyme in Shakespeare's day.
+
+92. _Who often drown'd_, etc. Alluding to the old notion that if a witch
+were thrown into the water she would not sink. King James, in his
+_Dæmonology_, says: "It appeares that God hath appointed for a
+supernatural signe of the monstrous impietie of witches, that the water
+shall refuse to receive them in her bosom that have shaken off them the
+sacred water of baptism, and wilfully refused the benefit thereof."
+
+98. _That crystal scales._ The reading of the early eds., changed by
+some to "those," etc.; but _scales_ may be used for the entire machine.
+Dyce says it was often so used by writers of the time.
+
+99. _Lady's love._ Some substitute "lady-love," which S. does not use
+elsewhere. Clarke suggests that _your lady's love_ may mean "the little
+love Rosaline bears you," weighed against that of some possible _maid_.
+
+101. _Scant._ Not elsewhere used adverbially by S. _Scantly_ occurs only
+in _A. and C._ iii. 4. 6.
+
+
+SCENE III.--1. On the character of the Nurse Mrs. Jameson says:--
+
+"She is drawn with the most wonderful power and discrimination. In the
+prosaic homeliness of the outline, and the magical illusion of the
+colouring, she reminds us of some of the marvellous Dutch paintings,
+from which, with all their coarseness, we start back as from a reality.
+Her low humour, her shallow garrulity, mixed with the dotage and
+petulance of age--her subserviency, her secrecy, and her total want of
+elevated principle, or even common honesty--are brought before us like a
+living and palpable truth....
+
+"Among these harsh and inferior spirits is Juliet placed; her haughty
+parents, and her plebeian nurse, not only throw into beautiful relief
+her own native softness and elegance, but are at once the cause and the
+excuse of her subsequent conduct. She trembles before her stern mother
+and her violent father, but, like a petted child, alternately cajoles
+and commands her nurse. It is her old foster-mother who is the
+confidante of her love. It is the woman who cherished her infancy who
+aids and abets her in her clandestine marriage. Do we not perceive how
+immediately our impression of Juliet's character would have been
+lowered, if Shakespeare had placed her in connection with any
+commonplace dramatic waiting-woman?--even with Portia's adroit Nerissa,
+or Desdemona's Emilia? By giving her the Nurse for her confidante, the
+sweetness and dignity of Juliet's character are preserved inviolate to
+the fancy, even in the midst of all the romance and wilfulness of
+passion."
+
+Cf. Coleridge: "The character of the Nurse is the nearest of anything in
+Shakspeare to a direct borrowing from mere observation; and the reason
+is, that as in infancy and childhood the individual in nature is a
+representative of a class--just as in describing one larch-tree, you
+generalize a grove of them--so it is nearly as much so in old age. The
+generalization is done to the poet's hand. Here you have the garrulity
+of age strengthened by the feelings of a long-trusted servant, whose
+sympathy with the mother's affections gives her privileges and rank in
+the household; and observe the mode of connection by accidents of time
+and place, and the childlike fondness of repetition in a second
+childhood, and also that happy, humble ducking under, yet constant
+resurgence against, the check of her superiors!"
+
+2. _Maidenhead._ Etymologically the same word as _maidenhood_. So
+_lustihead_ = lustihood, _livelihead_ = livelihood (as in Spenser,
+_F.Q._ ii. 2. 2: "for porcion of thy livelyhed"), etc. Cf. _Godhead_,
+etc.
+
+4. _God forbid!_ Staunton suggests that the Nurse uses _lady-bird_ as a
+term of endearment; but, recollecting its application to a woman of
+loose life, checks herself--_God forbid_ her darling should prove such a
+one! Dyce explains it: "God forbid that any accident should keep her
+away!" This seems to me more probable.
+
+7. _Give leave awhile._ Leave us alone; a courteous form of dismissal.
+Cf. _T.G. of V._ iii. 1. 1: "Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile;"
+_M.W._ ii. 2. 165: "Give us leave, drawer," etc.
+
+9. _I have remember'd me._ For the reflexive use, cf. _1 Hen. IV._ ii.
+4. 468: "and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff," etc.
+
+_Thou's._ Cf. _Lear_, iv. 6. 246. The early eds. have "thou 'se"; most
+modern ones substitute "thou shalt."
+
+12. _Lay._ Wager. Cf. _L. L. L._ i. 1. 310, _T. and C._ iii. 1. 95, etc.
+
+13. _Teen._ Sorrow; used here for the play on _fourteen_. Cf. _V. and
+A._ 808: "My face is full of shame, my heart of teen;" _Temp._ i. 2. 64:
+"the teen I have turn'd you to;" _L. L. L._ iv. 3. 164: "Of sighs and
+groans, of sorrow and of teen," etc.
+
+15. _Lammas-tide._ The 1st of August. _Tide_ = time, as in _even-tide_,
+_springtide_, etc. Cf. _K. John_, iii. 1. 86:--
+
+ "What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done,
+ That it in golden letters should be set
+ Among the high tides in the calendar?"
+
+See also the play upon the word in _T. of A._ i. 2. 57: "Flow this way!
+A brave fellow! he keeps his tides well."
+
+23. _The earthquake._ Tyrwhitt suggested that this may refer to the
+earthquake felt in England on the 6th of April, 1580. Malone notes that
+if the earthquake happened on the day when Juliet was _weaned_
+(presumably when she was a year old), she could not well be more than
+_twelve_ years old now; but the Nurse makes her almost _fourteen_--as
+her father (i. 2. 9) and her mother (i. 3. 12) also do.
+
+26. _Wormwood._ Halliwell-Phillipps cites Cawdray, _Treasurie or
+Storehouse of Similies_, 1600: "if the mother put worme-wood or mustard
+upon the breast, the child sucking it, and feeling the bitternesse, he
+quite forsaketh it, without sucking any more," etc.
+
+27. _Sitting in the sun_, etc. Cf. Dame Quickly's circumstantial
+reminiscences, _2 Hen. IV._ ii. 1. 93 fol.: "Thou didst swear to me,"
+etc.
+
+29. _Bear a brain._ Have a brain, that is, a good memory.
+
+31. _Pretty fool._ On _fool_ as a term of endearment or pity, cf.
+_A.Y.L._ ii. 1. 22, _Lear_, v. 2. 308, etc.
+
+32. _Tetchy._ Touchy, fretful. Cf. _Rich. III._ iv. 4. 168: "Tetchy and
+wayward was thy infancy."
+
+33. _Shake, quoth the dove-house._ The dove-house shook. It refers of
+course to the effects of the earthquake. Daniel (in Dowden's ed.) quotes
+Peele, _Old Wives' Tale_: "Bounce, quoth the guns;" and Heywood, _Fair
+Maid of the West_: "Rouse, quoth the ship."
+
+36. _By the rood._ That is, by the cross; as in _Ham._ iii. 4. 14,
+_Rich. III._ iii. 2. 77, etc. For _alone_ the 1st and 2d quartos have
+"high-lone," which Herford, Dowden, and some others adopt. "It is an
+alteration of _alone_, of obscure origin" (_New Eng. Dict._) found in
+Marston, Middleton, and other writers of the time. In George
+Washington's _Diary_ (1760) it is used of mares. According to the
+description here, Juliet could not have been much more than a year old
+at the time. See on 23 above.
+
+38. _Mark._ Appoint, elect. Cf. _T.A._ i. 1. 125: "To this your son is
+mark'd, and die he must."
+
+40. _To see thee married once._ Once see thee married.
+
+51. _Much upon these years._ Nearly at the same age. Cf. _M. for M._ iv.
+1. 17: "much upon this time;" _Rich. III._ v. 3. 70: "Much about
+cock-shut time," etc. As Juliet is fourteen, Lady Capulet would be about
+twenty-eight, while her husband, having done masking for some thirty
+years (see i. 5. 35 fol.), must be at least sixty. See also on v. 3. 207
+below.
+
+55. _A man of wax._ "As pretty as if he had been modelled in wax"
+(Schmidt). Steevens quotes _Wily Beguiled_: "Why, he's a man as one
+should picture him in wax." White adds from Lyly, _Euphues and his
+England_: "so exquisite that for shape he must be framed in wax," and
+refers to iii. 3. 126 below. Dyce cites _Faire Em_:--
+
+ "A sweet face, an exceeding daintie hand:
+ A body, were it framed of wax
+ By all the cunning artists of the world,
+ It could not better be proportioned."
+
+60. _Read o'er the volume_, etc. Here one quibble leads to another by
+the power of association. "The _volume_ of young Paris's face suggests
+the _beauty's pen_, which hath _writ_ there. Then the obscurities of the
+fair volume are written in _the margin of his eyes_ as comments of
+ancient books are always printed in the margin. Lastly, this _book of
+love_ lacks a _cover_; the _golden story_ must be locked with _golden
+clasps_" (Knight).
+
+62. _Married._ The reading of 2d quarto; the other early eds. have
+"severall," which some editors adopt. _Married_ = "closely joined, and
+hence concordant, harmonious" (Schmidt). Cf. _T. and C._ i. 3. 100: "The
+unity and married calm of states;" and _Sonn._ 8. 6:--
+
+ "If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,
+ By unions married, do offend thine ear."
+
+See also Milton, _L'All._ 137: "Married to immortal verse."
+
+65. _Margent._ Malone quotes _R. of L._ 102:--
+
+ "But she that never cop'd with stranger eyes
+ Could pick no meaning from their parting looks,
+ Nor read the subtle shining secrecies
+ Writ in the glassy margent of such books."
+
+See also _Ham._ v. 2. 162.
+
+67. _Cover._ "A quibble on the law phrase for a married woman, who is
+styled a _femme couverte_ [_feme covert_] in law French" (Mason).
+
+68. _Lives in the sea._ Is not yet caught. The bride has not yet been
+won. Farmer thought it an allusion to fish-skin as used for binding
+books.
+
+70. _Many's._ Cf. _Sonn._ 93. 7: "In many's looks," etc.
+
+74. _Like of._ Cf. _Much Ado_, v. 4. 59: "I am your husband, if you like
+of me."
+
+76. _Endart._ Not elsewhere used by S. and perhaps of his own coining.
+
+80. _Cursed._ Because she is not at hand to help. _In extremity_ = at a
+desperate pass. Cf. _M.N.D._ iii. 2. 3, _A.Y.L._ iv. 1. 5, etc.
+
+83. _County._ Count; as often in this play. See also _M. of V._ i. 2.
+49, _A.W._ iii. 7. 22, etc.
+
+
+SCENE IV.--Mercutio is thus described in Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "At thone syde of her chayre, her lover Romeo:
+ And on the other side there sat one cald Mercutio.
+ A courtier that eche where was highly had in pryce:
+ For he was coorteous of his speche, and pleasant of devise.
+ Euen as a Lyon would emong the lambes be bolde:
+ Such was emong the bashfull maydes, Mercutio to beholde.
+ With frendly gripe he ceasd [seized] fayre Juliets snowish hand:
+ A gyft he had that nature gaue him in his swathing band.
+ That frosen mountayne yse was neuer halfe so cold
+ As were his handes, though nere so neer the fire he dyd them holde."
+
+In Paynter's _Palace of Pleasure_ he is spoken of as "an other Gentleman
+called _Mercutio_, which was a courtlyke Gentleman, very well beloued of
+all men, and by reason of his pleasaunt and curteous behauior was in
+euery company wel intertayned." His "audacity among Maydens" and his
+cold hands are also mentioned.
+
+1. _This speech._ Furness would read "the speech"; but, as the scene
+opens in the midst of the conversation, S. may have meant to imply that
+some one in the company has suggested an introductory speech. See the
+following note.
+
+3. _The date is out_, etc. That is, such tediousness is now out of
+fashion. Steevens remarks: "In _Henry VIII._ where the king introduces
+himself to the entertainment given by Wolsey [i. 4] he appears, like
+Romeo and his companions, in a _mask_, and sends a messenger before to
+make an apology for his intrusion. This was a custom observed by those
+who came uninvited, with a desire to conceal themselves for the sake of
+intrigue, or to enjoy the greater freedom of conversation. Their entry
+on these occasions was always prefaced by some speech in praise of the
+beauty of the ladies or the generosity of the entertainer; and to the
+_prolixity_ of such introductions I believe Romeo is made to allude. So
+in _Histrio-mastix_, 1610, a man expresses his wonder that the maskers
+enter without any compliment: 'What, come they in so blunt, without
+device?' In the accounts of many entertainments given in reigns
+antecedent to that of Elizabeth, I find this custom preserved. Of the
+same kind of masquerading see a specimen in _T. of A._ [i. 2], where
+Cupid precedes a troop of ladies with a speech." Collier compares
+_L. L. L._ v. 2. 158 fol.
+
+5. _Bow of lath._ The Tartar bows resembled in form the old Roman or
+Cupid's bow, such as we see on medals and bas-reliefs; while the English
+bow had the shape of the segment of a circle.
+
+6. _Crow-keeper._ Originally a boy stationed in a field to drive the
+birds away (as in _Lear_, iv. 6. 88: "That fellow handles his bow like a
+crow-keeper"); afterwards applied, as here, to what we call a
+_scarecrow_. The latter was often a stuffed figure with a bow in his
+hand.
+
+7, 8. These lines are found only in the 1st quarto, and were first
+inserted in the text by Pope. White believes that they were purposely
+omitted, but only on account of their disparagement of the
+prologue-speakers on the stage. Prologues and epilogues were often
+prepared, not by the author of the play, but by some other person; and
+this was probably the case with some of the prologues and epilogues in
+S. _Faintly_ = "in a weak mechanical way" (Ulrici). _Entrance_ is a
+trisyllable, as in _Macb._ i. 5. 40.
+
+10. _A measure._ A formal courtly dance. Cf. _Much Ado_, ii. 1. 80: "as
+a measure, full of state and ancientry;" and for the play on the word,
+_Id._ ii. 1. 74, _L. L. L._ iv. 3. 384, and _Rich. II._ iii. 4. 7.
+
+11. _A torch._ Maskers were regularly attended by torch-bearers. The
+commentators quote illustrations of this from other authors, but do not
+refer to _M. of V._ ii. 4. 5: "We have not spoke us yet of
+torch-bearers;" and 21 just below:--
+
+ "Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
+ I am provided of a torch-bearre."
+
+See also _Id._ ii. 6. 40 fol. For the contemptuous use of _ambling_, see
+_Ham._ iii. 1. 151, _1 Hen. IV._ iii. 2. 60, etc.
+
+12. _The light._ For the poet's frequent playing on the different senses
+of _light_, see on i. 1. 134 above. Cf. ii. 2. 105 below.
+
+15. _Soul._ For the play on the word, cf. _M. of V._ ii. 4. 68, iv. 1.
+123, and, _J.C._ i. 1. 15.
+
+19. _Enpierced._ Used by S. nowhere else.
+
+20. _Bound._ For the quibble, Steevens compares Milton, _P.L._ iv.
+180:--
+
+ "in contempt
+ At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound
+ Of hill or highest wall," etc.
+
+29. _Give me a case._ Perhaps Mercutio thinks he will wear a mask, and
+then changes his mind. Littledale suggests pointing "visage in!" It is
+possible, however, that lines 30-32 refer to a mask that is handed to
+him, and which he decides to wear, though it is an ugly one. On the
+whole, I prefer this explanation.
+
+31. _Quote._ Note, observe. Cf. _Ham._ ii. 1. 112:--
+
+ "I am sorry that with better heed and judgment
+ I had not quoted him."
+
+32. _Beetle-brows._ Prominent or overhanging brows. Cf. the verb
+_beetle_ in _Ham._ i. 4. 71.
+
+36. _Rushes._ Before the introduction of carpets floors were strewn with
+rushes. Cf. _1 Hen. IV._ iii. 1. 214: "on the wanton rushes lay you
+down;" _Cymb._ ii. 2. 13:--
+
+ "Our Tarquin thus
+ Did softly press the rushes," etc.
+See also _R. of L._ 318, _T. of S._ iv. 1. 48, and _2 Hen. IV._ v. 5. 1.
+The stage was likewise strewn with rushes. Steevens quotes Dekker, _Guls
+Hornbook_: "on the very rushes where the comedy is to daunce."
+
+37. _I am proverb'd_, etc. The old proverb fits my case, etc. _To hold
+the candle_ is a very common phrase for being _an idle spectator_. Among
+Ray's proverbs is "A good candle-holder proves a good gamester"
+(Steevens).
+
+39. _The game_, etc. An old proverbial saying advises to give over when
+the game is at the fairest; and Romeo also alludes to this.
+
+40. _Dun's the mouse._ Apparently = keep still; but no one has
+satisfactorily explained the origin of the phrase. Malone quotes
+_Patient Grissel_, 1603: "yet don is the mouse, lie still;" and Steevens
+adds _The Two Merry Milkmaids_, 1620: "Why then 'tis done, and dun's the
+mouse and undone all the courtiers."
+
+41. _If thou art Dun_, etc. Douce quotes Chaucer, _C.T._ 16936:
+
+ "Ther gan our hoste for to jape and play,
+ And sayde, 'sires, what? Dun is in the myre.'"
+
+Gifford explains the expression thus: "_Dun in the mire_ is a Christmas
+gambol, at which I have often played. A log of wood is brought into the
+midst of the room: this is _Dun_ (the cart-horse), and a cry is raised
+that he is _stuck in the mire_. Two of the company advance, either with
+or without ropes, to draw him out. After repeated attempts, they find
+themselves unable to do it, and call for more assistance. The game
+continues till all the company take part in it, when Dun is extricated
+of course; and the merriment arises from the awkward and affected
+efforts of the rustics to lift the log, and from sundry arch
+contrivances to let the ends of it fall on one another's toes. This will
+not be thought a very exquisite amusement; and yet I have seen much
+honest mirth at it." Halliwell-Phillipps quotes _Westward Hoe_, 1607: "I
+see I'm born still to draw dun out o' th' mire for you; that wise beast
+will I be;" and Butler, _Remains_: "they meant to leave reformation,
+like Dun in the mire."
+
+42. _Sir-reverence._ A contraction of "save reverence" (_salva
+reverentia_), used as an apology for saying what might be deemed
+improper. Cf. _C. of E._ iii. 2. 93: "such a one as a man may not speak
+of without he say 'Sir-reverence.'" Taylor the Water-Poet says in one of
+his epigrams:--
+
+ "If to a foule discourse thou hast pretence,
+ Before thy foule words name sir-reverence,
+ Thy beastly tale most pleasantly will slip,
+ And gaine thee praise, when thou deserv'st a whip."
+
+Here "Mercutio says he will draw Romeo from the _mire of this love_, and
+uses parenthetically the ordinary form of apology for speaking so
+profanely of love" (Knight). For the full phrase, see _Much Ado_, iii.
+4. 32, _M. of V._ ii. 2. 27, 139, etc.
+
+43. _Burn daylight._ "A proverbial expression used when candles are
+lighted in the daytime" (Steevens); hence applied to superfluous actions
+in general. Here it is = waste time, as the context shows. Cf. _M.W._
+ii. 1. 54, where it has the same meaning.
+
+45. _We waste_, etc. The quartos have "We waste our lights in vaine,
+lights lights by day;" the folios, "We wast our lights in vaine, lights,
+by day." The emendation is Capell's. Daniel and Dowden read, "light
+lights by day," which is very plausible.
+
+47. _Five wits._ Cf. _Much Ado_, i. 1. 66: "four of his five wits went
+halting off;" _Sonn._ 141. 9: "But my five wits nor my five senses."
+Here the _five wits_ are distinguished from the _five senses_; but the
+two expressions were sometimes used interchangeably. The _five wits_, on
+the other hand, were defined as "common wit, imagination, fantasy,
+estimation (judgment), and memory."
+
+50. _To-night._ That is, last night, as in _M.W._ iii. 3. 171: "I have
+dreamed to-night;" _W.T._ ii. 3. 10: "He took good rest to-night," etc.
+See also ii. 4. 2 below.
+
+53. _Queen Mab._ No earlier instance of _Mab_ as the name of the
+fairy-queen has been discovered, but S. no doubt learned it from the
+folk-lore of his own time. Its derivation is uncertain.
+
+54. _The fairies' midwife._ Not midwife _to_ the fairies, but the fairy
+whose department it was to deliver the fancies of sleeping men of their
+dreams, those _children of an idle brain_ (Steevens). T. Warton believes
+she was so called because she steals new-born infants, and leaves
+"changelings" (see _M.N.D._ ii. 1. 23, etc.) in their place.
+
+55. _No bigger_, etc. That is, no bigger than the figures cut in such an
+agate. Cf. _Much Ado_, iii. 1. 65: "If low, an agate very vilely cut."
+Rings were sometimes worn on the _thumb_. Steevens quotes Glapthorne,
+_Wit in a Constable_, 1639: "and an alderman as I may say to you, he has
+no more wit than the rest o' the bench; and that lies in his
+thumb-ring."
+
+57. _Atomies._ Atoms, or creatures as minute as atoms. Cf. _A.Y.L._
+iii. 2. 245: "to count atomies;" and _Id._ iii. 5. 13: "Who shut their
+coward gates on atomies." In _2 Hen. IV._ v. 4. 33, Mrs. Quickly
+confounds the word with _anatomy._ S. uses it only in these four
+passages, _atom_ not at all.
+
+59. _Spinners._ Long-legged spiders, mentioned also in _M.N.D._ ii. 2.
+21: "Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence!"
+
+65. _Worm._ Nares says, under _idle worms_: "Worms bred in idleness. It
+was supposed, and the notion was probably encouraged for the sake of
+promoting industry, that when maids were idle, worms bred in their
+fingers;" and he cites Beaumont and Fletcher, _Woman Hater_, iii. 1:--
+
+ "Keep thy hands in thy muff and warm the idle
+ Worms in thy fingers' ends."
+
+67-69. _Her chariot ... coachmakers._ Daniel puts these lines before 59.
+Lettsom says: "It is preposterous to speak of the parts of a chariot
+(such as the waggon-spokes and cover) before mentioning the chariot
+itself." But _chariot_ here, as the description shows, means only the
+_body_ of the vehicle, and is therefore one of the "parts."
+
+76. _Sweetmeats._ That is, kissing-comfits. These artificial aids to
+perfume the breath are mentioned by Falstaff, in _M.W._ v. 5. 22.
+
+77. _A courtier's nose._ As this is a repetition, Pope substituted
+"lawyer's" (from 1st quarto), but this would also be a repetition. Other
+suggestions are "tailor's" and "counsellor's;" but the carelessness of
+the description is in perfect keeping with the character. See the
+comments on the speech p. 290 below.
+
+79. _Sometime._ Used by S. interchangeably with _sometimes_.
+
+84. _Ambuscadoes._ Ambuscades; used by S. only here. The _Spanish
+blades_ of Toledo were famous for their quality.
+
+85. _Healths_, etc. Malone quotes _Westward Hoe_, 1607: "troth, sir, my
+master and sir Goslin are guzzling; they are dabbling together fathom
+deep. The knight has drunk so much health to the gentleman yonder, upon
+his knees, that he hath almost lost the use of his legs." Cf. _2 Hen.
+IV._ v. 3. 57:--
+
+ "Fill the cup, and let it come;
+ I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom."
+
+89. _Plats the manes_, etc. "This alludes to a very singular
+superstition not yet forgotten in some parts of the country. It was
+believed that certain malignant spirits, whose delight was to wander in
+groves and pleasant places, assumed occasionally the likeness of women
+clothed in white; that in this character they sometimes haunted stables
+in the night-time, carrying in their hands tapers of wax, which they
+dropped on the horses' manes, thereby plaiting them in inextricable
+knots, to the great annoyance of the poor animals and vexation of their
+masters. These hags are mentioned in the works of William of Auvergne,
+bishop of Paris in the 13th century" (Douce).
+
+90. _Elf-locks._ Hair matted or clotted, either from neglect or from the
+disease known as the _Plica Polonica_. Cf. _Lear_, ii. 3. 10: "elf all
+my hair in knots;" and Lodge, _Wit's Miserie_, 1596: "His haires are
+curld and full of elves locks."
+
+91. _Which_, etc. The real subject of _bodes_ is _which once untangled_
+= the untangling of which.
+
+97. _Who._ For _which_, as often; but here, perhaps, on account of the
+personification. Cf. _2 Hen. IV._ iii. 1. 22:--
+
+ "the winds,
+ Who take the ruffian billows by the top."
+
+103. _My mind misgives_, etc. One of many illustrations of Shakespeare's
+fondness for presentiments. Cf. ii. 2. 116, iii. 5. 53, 57, etc., below.
+See also 50 above.
+
+105. _Date._ Period, duration; as often in S. Cf. _R. of L._ 935: "To
+endless date of never-ending woes;" _Sonn._ 18. 4: "And summer's lease
+hath all too short a date;" _M.N.D._ iii. 2. 373: "With league whose
+date till death shall never end," etc.
+
+106. _Expire._ The only instance of the transitive use in S. Cf.
+Spenser, _F.Q._ iv. 1. 54: "Till time the tryall of her truth expyred."
+
+107. _Clos'd._ Enclosed, shut up. Cf. v. 2. 30 below: "clos'd in a dead
+man's tomb." See also _R. of L._ 761, _Macb._ iii. 1. 99, etc.
+
+111. In the early eds. the stage-direction is "_They march about the
+Stage, and Seruingmen come forth with_ [or _with their_] _Napkins_."
+This shows that the scene was supposed to be immediately changed to the
+hall of Capulet's house.
+
+
+SCENE V.--2. _Shift a trencher._ "Trenchers [wooden plates] were still
+used by persons of good fashion in our author's time. In the _Household
+Book of the Earls of Northumberland_, compiled at the beginning of the
+same century, it appears that they were common to the tables of the
+first nobility" (Percy). To _shift a trencher_ was a technical term. For
+_scrape a trencher_, cf. _Temp._ ii. 2. 187: "Nor scrape trencher, nor
+wash dish."
+
+7. _Joint-stools._ A kind of folding-chair. Cf. _1 Hen. IV._ ii. 4. 418,
+_2 Hen. IV._ ii. 4. 269, etc.
+
+8. _Court-cupboard._ Sideboard. Steevens quotes Chapman, _Monsieur
+D'Olive_, 1606: "Here shall stand my court-cupboard with its furniture
+of plate;" and his _May-Day_, 1611: "Court-cupboards planted with
+flaggons, cans, cups, beakers," etc. Cotgrave defines _dressoir_ as "a
+court-cupboord (without box or drawer), onely to set plate on."
+
+_Good thou._ For this vocative use of _good_, cf. _Temp._ i. 1. 3, 16,
+20, _C. of E._ iv. 4. 22, etc.
+
+9. _Marchpane._ A kind of almond-cake, much esteemed in the time of S.
+Nares gives the following from one of the old English receipt-books,
+_Delightes for Ladies_, 1608: "_To make a marchpane_.--Take two poundes
+of almonds being blanched, and dryed in a sieve over the fire, beate
+them in a stone mortar, and when they be small mix them with two pounde
+of sugar beeing finely beaten, adding two or three spoonefuls of
+rosewater, and that will keep your almonds from oiling: when your paste
+is beaten fine, drive it thin with a rowling pin, and so lay it on a
+bottom of wafers, then raise up a little edge on the side, and so bake
+it, then yce it with rosewater and sugar, then put it in the oven
+againe, and when you see your yce is risen up and drie, then take it out
+of the oven and garnish it with pretie conceipts, as birdes and beasts
+being cast out of standing moldes. Sticke long comfits upright in it,
+cast bisket and carrowaies in it, and so serve it; guild it before you
+serve it: you may also print of this _marchpane_ paste in your molds for
+banqueting dishes. And of this paste our comfit makers at this day make
+their letters, knots, armes, escutcheons, beasts, birds, and other
+fancies." Castles and other figures were often made of marchpane, to
+decorate splendid desserts, and were demolished by shooting or throwing
+sugar-plums at them. Cf. Beaumont and Fletcher, _Faithful Friends_, iii.
+2:--
+
+ "They barr'd their gates,
+ Which we as easily tore unto the earth
+ As I this tower of marchpane."
+
+16. _Cheerly._ Cheerily, briskly. Cf. _Temp._ i. 1. 6, 29, etc.
+
+16. _The longer liver take all._ A proverbial expression.
+
+18. _Toes._ Pope thought it necessary to change this to "feet." Malone
+remarks that the word "undoubtedly did not appear indelicate to the
+audience of Shakespeare's time, though perhaps it would not be endured
+at this day." We smile at this when we recollect some of the words that
+were endured then; but it shows how fashions change in these matters.
+
+21. _Deny._ Refuse. Cf. _L. L. L._ v. 2. 228: "If you deny to dance;" _T.
+of S._ ii. 1. 180: "If she deny to wed," etc. _Makes dainty_ = affects
+coyness. Cf. _K. John_, iii. 4. 138:--
+
+ "And he that stands upon a slippery place
+ Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up."
+
+22. _Am I come near ye now?_ Do I touch you, or hit you, now? Cf. _1 Hen
+IV._ i. 2. 14: "Indeed, you come near me now, Hal." Schmidt is clearly
+wrong in giving _T.N._ ii. 5. 29 as another example of the phrase in
+this sense. He might have given _T.N._ iii. 4. 71.
+
+23. _Welcome, gentlemen!_ Addressed to the masked friends of Romeo.
+
+28. _A hall, a hall!_ This exclamation occurs frequently in the old
+comedies, and is = make room. Cf. _Doctor Dodypoll_, 1600: "Room! room!
+a hall! a hall!" and Jonson, _Tale of a Tub_: "Then cry, a hall! a
+hall!"
+
+29. _Turn the tables up._ The tables in that day were flat leaves hinged
+together and placed on trestles; when removed they were therefore turned
+up (Steevens).
+
+30. _The fire._ S. appears to have forgotten that the time was in
+summer. See p. 19 above.
+
+32. _Cousin._ The "uncle Capulet" of i. 2. 70. The word was often used
+loosely = kinsman in S. Cf. iii. 1. 143 below: "Tybalt, my cousin! O my
+brother's child!"
+
+37. _Nuptial._ The regular form in S. In the 1st folio _nuptials_ occurs
+only in _Per._ v. 3. 80.
+
+43. _What lady is that_, etc. Cf. Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "At length he saw a mayd, right fayre of perfect shape:
+ Which Theseus, or Paris would haue chosen to their rape.
+ Whom erst he neuer sawe, of all she pleasde him most:
+ Within himselfe he sayd to her, thou iustly mayst thee boste.
+ Of perfit shapes renoune, and Beauties sounding prayse:
+ Whose like ne hath, ne shalbe seene, ne liueth in our dayes.
+ And whilest he fixd on her his partiall perced eye,
+ His former loue, for which of late he ready was to dye,
+ Is nowe as quite forgotte, as it had neuer been."
+
+47. _Her beauty hangs._ The reading of the later folios, adopted by many
+editors. The quartos and 1st folio have "It seemes she hangs." As
+Verplanck remarks, it is quite probable that the correction was the
+poet's own, obtained from some other MS. altered during the poet's life;
+it is besides confirmed by the repetition of _beauty_ in 49. Delius, who
+retains _it seems_, thinks that the boldness of the simile led the poet
+to introduce it in that way; but it is Romeo who is speaking, and the
+simile is not over-bold for him. The commentators often err in looking
+at the text from the "stand-point" of the critic rather than that of the
+character.
+
+48. _Ethiope's ear._ For the simile, cf. _Sonn._ 27. 11: "Which, like a
+jewel hung in ghastly night," etc. Holt White quotes Lyly, _Euphues_: "A
+fair pearl in a Morian's ear."
+
+55. _I ne'er saw_, etc. Cf. _Hen. VIII._ i. 4. 75:--
+
+ "The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O beauty,
+ Till now I never knew thee!"
+
+57. _What dares_, etc. How dares, or why dares, etc. Cf. _2 Hen. IV._ i.
+2. 129: "What tell you me of it? be it as it is;" _A. and C._ v. 2. 316:
+"What should I stay?" etc.
+
+58. _Antic face._ Referring to Romeo's mask. Cf. ii. 4. 29 below.
+
+59. _Fleer._ Sneer, mock; as in _Much Ado_, v. 1. 58, etc. For _scorn
+at_, cf. _A.Y.L._ iii. 5. 131, _K. John_, i. 1. 228, etc. We find
+_scorn_ without the preposition in _L. L. L._ iv. 3. 147: "How will he
+scorn!" _Solemnity_ here expresses only the idea of ceremony, or formal
+observance. Cf. the use of _solemn_ = ceremonious, formal; as in _Macb._
+iii. 1. 14: "To-night we hold a solemn supper, sir;" _T. of S._ iii. 2.
+103: "our solemn festival," etc. Hunter quotes Harrington, _Ariosto_:--
+
+ "Nor never did young lady brave and bright
+ Like dancing better on a solemn day."
+
+64. _In spite._ In malice; or, as Schmidt explains it, "only to defy and
+provoke us." Cf. i. 1. 75 above.
+
+67. _Content thee._ "Compose yourself, keep your temper" (Schmidt). Cf.
+_Much Ado_, v. 1. 87, _T. of S._ i. 1. 90, 203, ii. 1. 343, etc. So _be
+contented_; as in _M.W._ iii. 3. 177, _Lear_, iii, 4. 115, etc.
+
+68. _Portly._ The word here seems to mean simply "well-behaved,
+well-bred," though elsewhere it has the modern sense; as in _M.W._ i. 3.
+69: "my portly belly;" _1 Hen. IV._ ii. 4. 464: "A goodly portly man, i'
+faith, and a corpulent," etc.
+
+72. _Do him disparagement._ Do him injury. Cf. "do danger" (_J.C._ ii.
+1. 17), "do our country loss" (_Hen. V._ iv. 3. 21), "do him shame" (_R.
+of L._ 597, _Sonn._ 36. 10, _L. L. L._ iv. 3. 204), etc. See also iii. 3.
+118 below.
+
+77. _It fits._ Cf. _A.W._ ii. 1. 147: "where hope is coldest, and
+despair most fits," etc.
+
+81. _God shall mend my soul!_ Cf. _A.Y.L._ iv. 1. 193: "By my troth, and
+in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are
+not dangerous," etc. See also _1 Hen. IV._ iii. 1. 255.
+
+83. _Cock-a-hoop._ "Of doubtful origin" (_New. Eng. Dict._), though the
+meaning is clear. _Set cock-a-hoop_ = play the bully. S. uses the word
+only here.
+
+86. _Scathe._ Injure. S. uses the verb nowhere else; but cf. the noun in
+_K. John_, ii. 1. 75: "To do offence and scathe in Christendom;" _Rich.
+III._ i. 3. 317: "To pray for them that have done scathe to us," etc.
+
+87. _Contrary._ Oppose, cross; the only instance of the verb in S.
+Steevens quotes Greene, _Tully's Love_: "to contrary her resolution;"
+Warner, _Albion's England_: "his countermand should have contraried so,"
+etc. The accent in S. is variable. Cf. the adjective in iii. 2. 64
+below.
+
+88. _Well said._ Well done. Cf. _Oth._ ii. 1. 169, v. 1. 98, etc.
+_Princox_ = a pert or impertinent boy; used by S. only here. Steevens
+quotes _The Return from Parnassus_, 1606: "Your proud university
+princox." Cotgrave renders "_un jeune estourdeau superbe_" by "a young
+princox boy."
+
+Coleridge remarks here: "How admirable is the old man's impetuosity, at
+once contrasting, yet harmonized with young Tybalt's quarrelsome
+violence! But it would be endless to repeat observations of this sort.
+Every leaf is different on an oak-tree; but still we can only say, our
+tongues defrauding our eyes, This is another oak leaf!"
+
+91. _Patience perforce._ Compulsory submission; a proverbial expression.
+Nares quotes Ray's _Proverbs_: "Patience perforce is a medicine for a
+mad dog" (or "a mad horse," as Howell gives it). Cf. Spenser, _F.Q._ ii.
+3. 3:--
+
+ "Patience perforce: helplesse what may it boot
+ To frett for anger, or for griefe to mone?"
+
+94. _Convert._ For the intransitive use, cf. _R. of L._ 592, _Much Ado_,
+i. 1. 123, _Rich. II._ v. 1. 66, v. 3. 64, etc. Some make it transitive,
+with _now seeming sweet_ (= "what now seems sweet") as its object; but
+this seems too forced a construction.
+
+96. _The gentle fine._ The sweet penance for the offence; that is, for
+the rude touch of my hand. For _fine_ the early eds. have "sin" or
+"sinne." The emendation is due to Warburton; but some editors retain
+"sin."
+
+105. _Let lips do_, etc. Juliet has said that palm to palm is holy
+palmers' kiss. She afterwards says that palmers have lips that they must
+use in prayer. Romeo replies that the prayer of his lips is that they
+may do what hands do, that is, that they may kiss.
+
+109. As Malone remarks, kissing in a public assembly was not then
+thought indecorous. Cf. _Hen. VIII._ i. 4. 28.
+
+White remarks: "I have never seen a Juliet on the stage who appeared to
+appreciate the archness of the dialogue with Romeo in this scene. They
+go through it solemnly, or at best with staid propriety. They reply
+literally to all Romeo's speeches about saints and palmers. But it
+should be noticed that though this is the first interview of the lovers,
+we do not hear them speak until the close of their dialogue, in which
+they have arrived at a pretty thorough understanding of their mutual
+feeling. Juliet makes a feint of parrying Romeo's advances, but does it
+archly, and knows that he is to have the kiss he sues for. He asks,
+'Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?' The stage Juliet answers
+with literal solemnity. But it was not a conventicle at old Capulet's.
+Juliet was not holding forth. How demure is her real answer: 'Ay,
+pilgrim, lips that they must use--in prayer!' And when Romeo fairly gets
+her into the corner, towards which she has been contriving to be driven,
+and he says, 'Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg'd,' and does
+put them to that purgation, how slyly the pretty puss gives him the
+opportunity to repeat the penance by replying, 'Then have my lips the
+sin that they have took!'"
+
+114. _What._ Who; as often. Cf. 130 below.
+
+119. _Shall have the chinks._ This seems much like modern slang. S. uses
+it only here; but Tusser (_Husbandry_, 1573) has both _chink_ and
+_chinks_ in this sense, and the word is found also in Florio, Cotgrave,
+Holinshed, Stanihurst, and other old writers.
+
+120. _My life_, etc. "He means that, as bereft of Juliet he should die,
+his existence is at the mercy of his enemy, Capulet" (Staunton). Cf.
+Brooke:--
+
+ "So hath he learnd her name, and knowth she is no geast.
+ Her father was a Capilet, and master of the feast.
+ Thus hath his foe in choyse to geue him lyfe or death:
+ That scarsely can his wofull brest keepe in the liuely breath."
+
+124. _Foolish._ A mere repetition of the apologetic _trifling_.
+_Banquet_ sometimes meant a dessert, as here and in _T. of S._ v. 2.
+9:--
+
+ "My banquet is to close our stomachs up,
+ After our great good cheer."
+
+Nares quotes Massinger, _Unnatural Combat_:--
+
+ "We'll dine in the great room, but let the music
+ And banquet be prepared here;"
+
+and Taylor, _Pennilesse Pilgrim_: "our first and second course being
+threescore dishes at one boord, and after that alwayes a banquet."
+_Towards_ = ready, at hand (Steevens). So _toward_; as in _M.N.D._ iii.
+1. 81: "What, a play toward!"
+
+125. _Is it e'en so?_ The 1st quarto has here the stage-direction:
+"_They whisper in his eare_;" that is, whisper the reason of their
+departure.
+
+128. _By my fay._ That is, by my faith. Cf. _Ham._ ii. 2. 271, etc.
+
+130. _Come hither, nurse_, etc. Cf. Brooke:--
+
+ "As carefull was the mayde what way were best deuise
+ To learne his name, that intertaind her in so gentle wise.
+ Of whome her hart receiued so deepe, so wyde a wound,
+ An aucient dame she calde to her, and in her eare gan rounde.[5]
+ This old dame in her youth, had nurst her with her mylke,
+ With slender nedle taught her sow, and how to spin with silke.
+ What twayne are those (quoth she) which prease vnto the doore,
+ Whose pages in theyr hand doe beare, two toorches light before.
+ And then as eche of them had of his household name,
+ So she him namde yet once agayne the yong and wyly dame.
+ And tell me who is he with vysor in his hand
+ That yender doth in masking weede besyde the window stand.
+ His name is Romeus (said shee) a Montegewe.
+ Whose fathers pryde first styrd the strife which both your householdes
+ rewe."
+
+136. _If he be married_, etc. "Uttered to herself while the Nurse makes
+inquiry" (Dowden). _Married_ is here a trisyllable.
+
+142. _Prodigious._ Portentous. Cf. _M.N.D._ v. 1. 419, _K. John_, iii.
+1. 46, _Rich. III._ i. 2. 23, etc.
+
+[Footnote 5: That is, whisper. Cf. _W.T._ i. 2. 217, _K. John_, ii. 1.
+566, etc.]
+
+
+
+
+ACT II
+
+_Enter Chorus._ This is generally put at the end of act i., but, as it
+refers to the future, rather than the past, it may be regarded as a
+prologue to act ii. There is no division of acts or scenes in the early
+eds.
+
+2. _Gapes._ Rushton quotes Swinburn, _Briefe Treatise of Testaments and
+Last Willes_, 1590: "such personnes as do gape for greater bequests;"
+and again: "It is an impudent part still to gape and crie upon the
+testator."
+
+3. On the repetition of _for_, cf. _A.W._ i. 2. 29: "But on us both did
+haggish age steal on;" _Cor._ ii. 1. 18: "In what enormity is Marcius
+poor in?" etc. _Fair_ = fair one; as in _M.N.D._ i. 1. 182, etc.
+
+10. _Use._ Are accustomed. We still use the past tense of the verb in
+this sense, but not the present. Cf. _Temp._ ii. 1. 175: "they always
+use to laugh at nothing;" _T.N._ ii. 5. 104: "with which she uses to
+seal;" _A. and C._ ii. 5. 32: "we use To say the dead are well," etc.
+See also Milton, _Lycidas_, 67: "Were it not better done, as others
+use," etc.
+
+14. _Extremities._ That is, extreme difficulties or dangers.
+
+
+SCENE I.--2. _Dull earth._ "Romeo's epithet for his small world of man,
+the earthlier portion of himself" (Clarke). Cf. _Sonn._ 146. 1: "Poor
+soul, the centre of my sinful earth."
+
+5. _Orchard._ That is, garden; the only meaning in S.
+
+6. _Conjure._ Accented by S. on either syllable, without regard to the
+meaning.
+
+7. _Humours!_ Fancies, caprices. Some read "Humour's madman!
+Passion-lover!" See on 29 below.
+
+10. _Ay me!_ Often changed here and elsewhere to "Ah me!" which occurs
+in the old eds. of S. only in v. 1. 10 below. _Ay me!_ is found thirty
+or more times. Milton also uses it often.
+
+11. _My gossip Venus._ Cf. _M. of V._ iii. 1. 7: "if my gossip Report be
+an honest woman of her word."
+
+13. _Young Abraham Cupid._ The 2d and 3d quartos have "Abraham: Cupid;"
+the other early eds. "Abraham Cupid." Upton conjectured "Adam Cupid,"
+with an allusion to the famous archer, Adam Bell, and was followed by
+Steevens and others. Theobald suggested "auborn," and it has since been
+shown that _abraham_, _abram_, _aborne_, _aborn_, _abron_, _aubrun_,
+etc., were all forms of the word now written _auburn_. In _Cor._ ii. 3.
+21 the 1st, 2d, and 3d folios read: "our heads are some browne, some
+blacke, some Abram, some bald;" the 4th folio changes "Abram" to
+"auburn." In _T.G. of V._ iv. 4. 194, the folio has "Her haire is
+_Aburne_, mine is perfect _Yellow_." These are the only instances of the
+word in S. "Auburn" is adopted by a few editors, and is explained as =
+"auburn-haired," but that surely is no _nickname_. Schmidt understands
+"Young Abraham Cupid" to be used "in derision of the eternal boyhood of
+Cupid, though in fact he was at least as old as father Abraham." Cf.
+_L. L. L._ iii. 1. 182: "This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;" and
+_Id._ v. 2. 10: "For he hath been five thousand years a boy." Furness in
+his Variorum ed. gives "Adam," but he now prefers "Abraham" = the young
+counterfeit, with his sham make-up, pretending to be _purblind_ and yet
+_shooting so trim_. He thinks the allusion to the _beggar-maid_ also
+favours this explanation. _Abraham-man_, originally applied to a
+mendicant lunatic from Bethlehem Hospital, London, came to be a cant
+term for an impostor wandering about and asking alms under pretence of
+lunacy. Herford says that "Adam" is made almost certain by _Much Ado_,
+i. 1. 260; but it is by no means certain that the allusion there is to
+Adam Bell, as he assumes.
+
+_Trim._ The reading of 1st quarto; the other early eds. have "true."
+That the former is the right word is evident from the ballad of _King
+Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid_ (see Percy's _Reliques_), in which we
+read:--
+
+ "The blinded boy that shoots so trim
+ From heaven down did hie,
+ He drew a dart and shot at him,
+ In place where he did lie."
+
+For other allusions to the ballad, see _L. L. L._ iv. 1. 66 and _2 Hen._
+_IV._ v. 3. 106.
+
+16. _Ape._ As Malone notes, _ape_, like _fool_ (see on i. 3. 31 above),
+was sometimes used as a term of endearment or pity. Cf. _2 Hen. IV._ ii.
+4. 234: "Alas, poor ape, how thou sweatest!"
+
+22. _Circle._ Alluding to the ring drawn by magicians. Cf. _A.Y.L._ ii.
+5. 62: "a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle." See also _Hen._
+_V._ v. 2. 320.
+
+25. _Spite._ Vexation. Cf. i. 5. 64 above.
+
+29. _Humorous._ Humid. Delius (like Schmidt) sees a quibble in the word:
+"_moist_ and _capricious_, full of such humours as characterize lovers,
+and as whose personification Mercutio had just conjured Romeo under the
+collective name _humours_."
+
+32. _Truckle-bed._ Trundle-bed; one made to run under a "standing-bed,"
+as it was called. Cf. _M.W._ iv. 5. 7: "his standing-bed and
+truckle-bed." The former was for the master, the latter for the servant.
+Mercutio uses the term in sport, and adds a quibble on _field-bed_,
+which was a camp-bed, or a bed on the ground.
+
+
+SCENE II.--1. _He jests_, etc. Referring to Mercutio, whom he has
+overheard, as the rhyme in _found_ and _wound_ indicates. The Cambridge
+ed. suggests that in the old arrangement of the scene the wall may have
+been represented as dividing the stage, so that the audience could see
+Romeo on one side and Mercutio on the other. Mr. F.A. Marshall thinks
+that Romeo "merely stepped to the back of the stage at the beginning of
+the scene, and was supposed to be concealed from the others, not coming
+out till they had gone. Juliet would appear on the 'upper stage' [the
+balcony at the back of the Elizabethan stage], which did duty in the old
+plays for so many purposes."
+
+7. _Be not her maid._ Be not a votary to the moon, or Diana (Johnson).
+Cf. _M.N.D._ i. 1. 73.
+
+8. _Sick._ The 1st quarto has "pale," which is adopted by some editors.
+It has been objected that _sick and green_ is a strange combination of
+_colours_ in a livery; but it is rather the _effect_ of the colours that
+is meant. Cf. _T.N._ ii. 4. 116: "with a green and yellow melancholy."
+Perhaps, as Dowden remarks, the word _green-sickness_ (see iii. 5. 155)
+suggested the epithets.
+
+29. _White-upturned._ So Theobald and most of the editors. The early
+eds. have "white, upturned," which Marshall prefers as better expressing
+"the appearance of an upturned eye by moonlight."
+
+39. _Thou art thyself_, etc. That is, you would be yourself, or what you
+now are, even if you were not a Montague; just "as a rose is a rose--has
+all its characteristic sweetness and beauty--though it be not called a
+rose" (White). The thought is repeated below in _So Romeo would ... that
+title_. The passage would not call for explanation if critics had not
+been puzzled by it.
+
+46. _Owes._ Possesses; as very often. Cf. _M.N.D._ ii. 2. 79, _Macb._ i.
+3. 76, i. 4. 10, iii. 4. 113, etc.
+
+52. _Bescreen'd._ Used by S. only here.
+
+58. _Yet not._ A common transposition. Cf. _Hen. V._ iii. 3. 46: "his
+powers are yet not ready;" _Hen. VIII._ ii. 4. 204: "full sick, and yet
+not well;" _Cor._ i. 5. 18: "My work hath yet not warm'd me," etc.
+
+61. _Dislike._ Displease. Cf. _Oth._ ii. 3. 49: "I'll do 't; but it
+dislikes me." So _like_ = please; as in _Ham._ v. 2. 276: "This likes me
+well," etc.
+
+62. _Wherefore._ For the accent on the last syllable, cf. _M.N.D._ iii.
+2. 272: "Hate me! Wherefore? O me! what news, my love!"
+
+66. _O'er-perch._ Used by S. nowhere else.
+
+69. _Let._ Hindrance; as in _R. of L._ 330, 646, and _Hen. V._ v. 2. 65.
+Cf. the verb in _Ham._ i. 4. 85, etc.
+
+78. _Prorogued._ Delayed; as in iv. 1. 48 below. On _wanting of_, cf. v.
+1. 40 below: "Culling of simples."
+
+83. _As that vast shore_, etc. Possibly suggested, as some have thought,
+by the voyages of Drake and other explorers to America about the time
+when S. was writing.
+
+84. _Adventure._ Venture, try the chance. Cf. _Cymb._ iii. 4. 156:--
+
+ "O for such means!
+ Though peril to my modesty, not death on 't,
+ I would adventure."
+
+89. _Farewell compliment!_ Away with formality! The early eds. have
+"complement" or "complements," as in ii. 4. 19 below and elsewhere.
+
+93. _At lovers' perjuries_, etc. Douce remarks that S. found this in
+Ovid's _Art of Love_--perhaps in Marlowe's translation:--
+
+ "For Jove himself sits in the azure skies,
+ And laughs below at lovers' perjuries."
+
+Cf. Greene, _Metamorphosis_: "What! Eriphila, Jove laughs at the
+perjurie of lovers."
+
+99. _Haviour._ Not "'haviour," as often printed. It is found in North's
+_Plutarch_ and other prose.
+
+101. _To be strange._ To appear coy or shy. Cf. iii. 2. 15 below:
+"strange love" (that is, coy love).
+
+103. _Ware._ See on i. 1. 121 above.
+
+106. _Discovered._ Revealed, betrayed. Cf. iii. 1. 145 below, where it
+is = tell, explain.
+
+109. _The inconstant moon._ Cf. _M. for M._ iii. 1. 25:--
+
+ "For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
+ After the moon."
+
+See also _L. L. L._ v. 2. 212, _Lear_, v. 3. 19, and _Oth._ iii. 3. 178.
+Hunter quotes Wilson, _Retorique_, 1553: "as in speaking of constancy,
+to shew the sun who ever keepeth one course; in speaking of inconstancy,
+to shew the moon which keepeth no certain course."
+
+116. _Do not swear._ Coleridge remarks here: "With love, pure love,
+there is always an anxiety for the safety of the object, a
+disinterestedness by which it is distinguished from the counterfeits of
+its name. Compare this scene with the _Temp._ iii. 1. I do not know a
+more wonderful instance of Shakespeare's mastery in playing a distinctly
+rememberable variation on the same remembered air than in the
+transporting love-confessions of Romeo and Juliet and Ferdinand and
+Miranda. There seems more passion in the one, and more dignity in the
+other; yet you feel that the sweet girlish lingering and busy movement
+of Juliet, and the calmer and more maidenly fondness of Miranda, might
+easily pass into each other."
+
+117. _Contract._ Accented by S. on either syllable, as suits the
+measure. The verb is always _contráct_. See also on i. 4. 103 above.
+
+119. _Like the lightning_, etc. Cf. _M.N.D._ i. 1. 145:--
+
+ "Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
+ That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
+ And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
+ The jaws of darkness do devour it up;
+ So quick bright things come to confusion."
+
+124. _As that_, etc. As to that heart, etc.
+
+131. _Frank._ Bountiful; repeated in _bounty_. Cf. _Sonn._ 4. 4:--
+
+ "Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend,
+ And being frank she lends to those are free;"
+and _Lear_, iii. 4. 20: "Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave
+all."
+
+139. _Afeard_. Used by S. interchangeably with _afraid_ (v. 3. 10
+below).
+
+141. _Substantial._ Metrically a quadrisyllable.
+
+142. _Three words_, etc. Cf. Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "In few vnfained woords your hidden mynd vnfolde,
+ That as I see your pleasant face, your heart I may beholde.
+ For if you doe intende my honor to defile:
+ In error shall you wander still, as you haue done this whyle,
+ But if your thought be chaste, and haue on vertue ground,
+ If wedlocke be the ende and marke which your desire hath found:
+ Obedience set aside, vnto my parentes dewe:
+ The quarell eke that long agoe betwene our housholdes grewe:
+ Both me and myne I will all whole to you betake:
+ And following you where so you goe, my fathers house forsake."
+
+143. _Bent._ Inclination; as in _J.C._ ii. 1. 210: "I can give his
+humour the true bent," etc.
+
+144. _Send me word to-morrow_, etc. This seems rather sudden at first
+glance, but her desire for immediate marriage is due, partially at
+least, to what she has just learned (i. 3) of the plan to marry her to
+Paris.
+
+151. _Madam!_ This forms no part of the verse, and might well enough be
+separated from it, like the _Juliet_ in i. 5. 145 above. _By and by_ =
+presently; as in iii. 1. 173 and iii. 3. 76 below.
+
+152. _Suit._ The reading of 4th ("sute") and 5th quartos; the other
+early eds. have "strife." The expression "To cease your sute" occurs in
+Brooke's poem, a few lines below the passage just quoted.
+
+153. _To-morrow._ "In the alternative which she places before her lover
+with such a charming mixture of conscious delicacy and girlish
+simplicity, there is that jealousy of female honour which precept and
+education have infused into her mind, without one real doubt of his
+truth, or the slightest hesitation in her self-abandonment; for she
+does not even wait to hear his asseverations" (Mrs. Jameson).
+
+157. _Toward school_, etc. Cf. _A.Y.L._ ii. 7. 145:--
+
+ "And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
+ And shining morning face, creeping like snail
+ Unwillingly to school."
+
+160. _Tassel-gentle._ The _tassel-gentle_ or _tercel-gentle_ is the male
+hawk. Dyce quotes Cotgrave, _Fr. Dict._: "Tiercelet. The Tassell or male
+of any kind of Hawke, so tearmed, because he is, commonly, a third part
+less than the female;" and Holmes, _Academy of Armory_: "_Tiercell_,
+_Tercell_, or _Tassell_ is the general name for the Male of all large
+Hawks." Malone says that the _tiercel-gentle_ was the species of hawk
+appropriated to the prince, and thinks that on that account Juliet
+applies it to Romeo. We find _tercel_ in _T. and C._ iii. 2. 56: "The
+falcon as the tercel." The hawk was trained to know and obey _the
+falconer's voice_. Cf. _T. of S._ iv. 1. 196:--
+
+ "Another way I have to man my haggard,
+ To make her come and know her keeper's call."
+
+For _haggard_ = wild hawk, see _Much Ado_, iii. 1 36, _T.N._ iii. 1. 71,
+etc.
+
+163. _Airy tongue._ Cf. Milton, _Comus_, 208: "And airy tongues, that
+syllable men's names," etc.
+
+166. _Silver-sweet._ Cf. _Per._ v. 1. 111: "As silver-voic'd." See also
+iv. 5. 124 below: "Then music with her silver sound," etc. The figure is
+a very common one.
+
+167. _Attending._ Attentive. Cf. _T.A._ v. 3. 82: "To lovesick Dido's
+sad attending ear."
+
+171. _I have forgot why I did call thee back._ We know, and she knew,
+that it was _only_ to call him back, parting was "such sweet sorrow."
+
+178. _A wanton's bird._ Here _wanton_ means simply a playful girl. It is
+often used in such innocent sense (cf. i. 4. 35 above), and is
+sometimes masculine, as in _K. John_, v. 1. 70 and _Rich. II._ ii. 3.
+164.
+
+181. _Plucks it back._ Cf. Sonn. 126. 6: "As thou goest onwards, still
+will pluck thee back." See also _W.T._ iv. 4. 476, 762 and _A. and C._
+i. 2. 131. _Pluck_ is a favourite word with S.
+
+182. _Loving-jealous._ Compound adjectives are much used by S. Cf. i. 1.
+79, 176, 178, i. 2. 25, i. 4. 7, 100, etc., above.
+
+190. _Dear hap._ Good fortune. The 1st quarto has "good hap," which
+occurs in iii. 3. 171 below.
+
+189. _Ghostly._ Spiritual; as in ii. 3. 45, ii. 6. 21, and iii. 3. 49
+below.
+
+
+SCENE III.--1. _Grey-eyed._ Delius says that _grey_ here and in _Much
+Ado_, v. 3. 27 is = "bright blue," and Dyce defines it as "blue, azure";
+but there is no reason why the word should not have its ordinary
+meaning. The _grey_, as in _M.N.D._ iii. 2. 419, _J.C._ ii. 1. 103, and
+iii. 5. 19 below, is the familiar poetic grey of the early morning
+before sunrise. Whether ascribed, as here, to the eyes of the Morn, or,
+as in Milton's _Lycidas_, to her sandals, does not matter. See also on
+iii. 5. 8 below.
+
+3. _Flecked._ Spotted, dappled; used by S. nowhere else.
+
+4. _From forth._ Cf. _M.W._ iv. 4. 53: "Let them from forth a sawpit
+rush at once," etc. For _Titan_ as the sun-god, cf. _V. and A._ 177, _T.
+and C._ v. 10. 25, _Cymb._ iii. 4. 166, etc.
+
+7. _Osier cage._ Basket. Dowden suggests that _of ours_ is "possibly not
+merely for the rhyme's sake, but because the Franciscan had no personal
+property."
+
+8. _Precious-juiced flowers._ S. here prepares us for the part which the
+Friar is afterwards to sustain. Having thus early found him to be a
+chemist, we are not surprised at his furnishing the sleeping-draught for
+Juliet. Cf. Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "What force the stones, the plants, and metals haue to woorke,
+ And diuers other thinges that in the bowels of earth do loorke,
+ With care I haue sought out, with payne I did then proue;
+ With them eke can I helpe my selfe at times of my behoue," etc.
+
+9. _The earth_, etc. Cf. Milton, _P.L._ ii. 911: "The womb of nature,
+and perhaps her grave." See also _Per._ ii. 3. 45:--
+
+ "Whereby I see that Time's the king of men,
+ He's both their parent, and he is their grave."
+
+15. _Mickle._ Much, great; a word already half obsolete in the time of
+S. Cf. _C. of E._ iii. 1. 45: "The one ne'er got me credit, the other
+mickle blame," etc. _Powerful grace_ = "efficacious virtue" (Johnson);
+or = gracious power.
+
+19. _Strain'd._ Wrenched, forced. Cf. _M. of V._ iv. 1. 184: "The
+quality of mercy is not strain'd" (that is, excludes the idea of force
+or compulsion), etc.
+
+23. _Weak._ So all the early eds. except 1st quarto, which has "small."
+_Weak_ seems the better word as opposed to the following _power_
+(Daniel).
+
+25. _With that part._ That is, with its odour. Malone and Clarke take
+_part_ to be = the sense of smell.
+
+26. _Slays._ The 2d quarto has "staies" (= stops, paralyzes), which some
+editors prefer.
+
+27. _Encamp them._ For the reflexive use, cf. _Hen. V._ iii. 6. 180:
+"we'll encamp ourselves." On the figurative _encamp_, cf. _L.C._ 203.
+
+29. _Worser._ Cf. iii. 2. 108 below: "worser than Tybalt's death."
+_Predominant_ was originally an astrological term. See _A.W._ i. 1. 211,
+etc.
+
+30. _Canker._ Canker-worm. Cf. _V. and A._ 656: "The canker that eats up
+Love's tender spring;" _T.G. of V._ i. 1. 43: "in the sweetest bud The
+eating canker dwells," etc.
+
+34. _Good morrow._ Here = good-by.
+
+37. _Unstuff'd._ "Not overcharged" (Schmidt); used by S. only here.
+
+40. _With some._ The editors generally adopt "by some" from the 1st
+quarto; but _with = by_ is so common in S. that the reading of all the
+other early eds. may be accepted. See on i. 1. 148 and i. 2. 49 above.
+_Distemperature_ = disorder. Cf. _C. of E._ v. 1. 82: "Of pale
+distemperatures and foes to life."
+
+41, 42. _Or if not so_, etc. Marshall doubts whether S. wrote these
+lines. Of course, they belong to the first draft of the play.
+
+51. _Both our remedies._ The healing of both of us. Cf. _A.W._ i. 3.
+169: "both our mothers" = the mother of both of us. See also _Ham._ iii.
+1. 42, _Cymb._ ii. 4. 56, etc.
+
+52. _Lies._ Cf. _V. and A._ 1128:--
+
+ "She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes,
+ Where lo! two lamps burnt out in darkness lies."
+
+See also _Rich. II_. iii. 3. 168 and _Cymb._ ii. 3. 24.
+
+54. _Steads._ Benefits, helps. Cf. _Temp._ i. 2. 165: "Which since have
+steaded much;" _M. of V._ i. 3. 7: "May you stead me?" etc.
+
+55. _Homely in thy drift._ Simple in what you have to say. Cf. iv. 1.
+114 below.
+
+56. _Riddling._ Cf. _M.N.D._ ii. 2. 53: "Lysander riddles very
+prettily;" and 1 _Hen. VI._ ii. 3. 57: "a riddling merchant."
+
+61. _When and where and how_, etc. An instance of the so-called
+"chiastic" construction of which S. was fond. Cf. _M.N.D._ iii. 1. 113,
+114, _Ham._ iii. 1. 158, 159, _A. and C._ iii. 2. 15-18, etc.
+
+73. _Sighs._ Compared to vapours which the _sun_ dispels.
+
+72. _To season love._ A favourite metaphor with S., though a homely one;
+taken from the use of salt in preserving meat. For the reference to salt
+tears, cf. _A.W._ i. 1. 55, _T.N._ i. 1. 30, _R. of L._ 796, _L.C._ 18,
+etc.
+
+74. _Ancient._ Aged; as in ii. 4. 133 below. See also _Lear_, ii. 2. 67,
+_Cymb._ v. 3. 15, etc.
+
+88. _Did read by rote_, etc. "Consisted of phrases learned by heart, but
+knew nothing of the true characters of love" (Schmidt).
+
+93. _I stand on sudden haste._ I must be in haste. Cf. the impersonal
+use of _stand on_ or _upon_ = it concerns, it is important to; as in
+_C. of E._ iv. 1. 68: "Consider how it stands upon my credit;" _Rich._
+_II._ ii. 3. 138: "It stands your grace upon to do him right" (that is,
+it is your duty), etc. Cf. ii. 4. 34 below.
+
+
+SCENE IV.--2. _To-night._ Last night. See on i. 4. 50 above.
+
+13. _How he dares._ For the play on _dare_ = venture, and _dare_ =
+challenge, cf. _2 Hen. VI._ iii. 2. 203. There is also a play on
+_answer_.
+
+15. _A white wench's black eye._ Cf. _L. L. L._ iii. 1. 108:--
+
+ "A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
+ And two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes;"
+
+and Rosalind's reference to the "bugle eyeballs" of Phebe in _A. Y.L._
+iii. 5, 47, which the shepherdess recalls as a sneer: "He said mine eyes
+were black," etc.
+
+_Thorough._ Through. Cf. _M.N.D._ ii. 1. 3, 5, _W.T._ iii. 2. 172,
+_J.C._ iii. 1. 136, v. 1. 110, etc.
+
+16. _The very pin_, etc. The allusion is to archery. The _clout_ (cf.
+_L. L. L._ iv. 1. 136), or white mark at which the arrows were aimed, was
+fastened by a black pin in the centre. Cf. Marlowe, _Tamburlane_,
+1590:--
+
+ "For kings are clouts that every man shoots at,
+ Our crown the pin that thousands seek to cleave."
+
+17. _Butt-shaft._ A kind of arrow used for shooting at butts; formed
+without a barb, so as to be easily extracted (Nares).
+
+20. _Prince of cats._ _Tybert_ is the name of the cat in _Reynard the
+Fox_. Steevens quotes Dekker, _Satiromastix_, 1602: "tho' you were
+Tybert, the long-tail'd prince of cats;" and _Have with You_, etc.: "not
+Tibalt, prince of cats." _Tibert_, _Tybert_, and _Tybalt_ are forms of
+the ancient name _Thibault_. Cf. iii. 1. 77 below.
+
+21. _Captain of compliments._ A complete master of etiquette. Cf.
+_L. L. L._ i. 1. 169:--
+
+ "A man of compliments, whom right and wrong
+ Have chose as umpire of their mutiny."
+
+As Schmidt remarks, the modern distinction of _compliment_ and
+_complement_ is unknown to the orthography of the old eds. See on ii. 2.
+89 above.
+
+22. _Prick-song._ Music sung from notes (Schmidt); so called from the
+points or dots with which it is expressed. S. uses the word only here.
+When opposed to _plain-song_, it meant counter-point as distinguished
+from mere melody. Here, as Elson shows, there is a reference to marking
+the time "by tapping the foot in time with the music, or, more
+frequently and more artistically, by waving the hand as the conductor of
+an orchestra waves his baton."
+
+23. _Me._ For the "ethical dative," cf. _J.C._ i. 2. 270: "He plucked me
+ope his doublet," etc.
+
+25. _Button._ Steevens quotes _The Return from Parnassus_, 1606:
+"Strikes his poinado at a button's breadth." Staunton cites George
+Silver's _Paradoxes of Defence_, 1599: "Signior Rocco, ... thou that
+takest upon thee to hit anie Englishman with a thrust upon anie button,"
+etc. Duels were frequent in England in the time of S. The matter had
+been reduced to a science, and its laws laid down in books. The _causes_
+of quarrel had been duly graded and classified, as Touchstone explains
+in _A.Y.L._ v. 4. 63 fol.
+
+26. _Of the very first house._ Of the first rank among duellists.
+
+27. _Passado._ "A motion forwards and thrust in fencing" (Schmidt). Cf.
+_L. L. L._ i. 2. 184: "the passado he respects not." The _punto reverso_
+was a back-handed stroke. We have _punto_ (= thrust) in _M.W._ ii. 3.
+26: "to see thee pass thy punto." The _hay_ was a home-thrust; from the
+Italian _hai_ = thou hast it (not "he has it," as Schmidt and others
+explain it). Johnson gives it correctly: "The _hay_ is the word _hai_,
+you _have_ it, used when a thrust reaches the antagonist, from which our
+fencers, on the same occasion, without knowing, I suppose, any reason
+for it, cry out ha!"
+
+30. _Fantasticoes._ Steevens quotes Dekker, _Old Fortunatus_: "I have
+danced with queens, dallied with ladies, worn strange attires, seen
+fantasticoes," etc.
+
+32. _Grandsire._ Addressed to Benvolio in raillery of his staid
+demeanour.
+
+33. _Fashion-mongers._ Cf. _Much Ado_, v. 1. 94: "fashion-monging boys."
+
+34. _Pardonnez-mois._ Fellows who are continually saying
+_pardonnez-moi_; a hit at Frenchified affectation. The Cambridge ed. has
+"perdona-mi's" (Italian, suggested by the "pardona-mees" of the 4th and
+5th quartos). Herford reads "pardon-me's."
+
+35. _Form._ There is a play on the word, as in _L. L. L._ i. 1. 209:
+"sitting with her upon the form ... in manner and form following."
+Blakeway remarks: "I have heard that during the reign of large breeches
+it was necessary to cut away hollow places in the benches in the House
+of Commons, to make room for those monstrous protuberances, without
+which contrivance they who stood on the new form could not sit at ease
+on the old bench."
+
+36. _Bons._ The early eds. have "bones," which is unintelligible. The
+correction is due to Theobald, and is generally adopted.
+
+38. _Without his roe._ "That is, he comes but half himself; he is only a
+sigh--_O me!_ that is, _me O!_ the half of his name" (Seymour). It may
+mean without his mistress, whom he has had to leave; roe meaning a
+female deer as well as the spawn of a fish. Cf. _L. L. L._ v. 2. 309,
+where the Princess says: "Whip to our tents, as roes run over land;" and
+_T. and C._ v. 1. 68: "a herring without a roe."
+
+42. _Be-rhyme._ Cf. _A.Y.L._ iii. 2. 186: "I was never so be-rhymed,"
+etc.
+
+43. _Hildings._ Base menials; used of both sexes. Cf. _T. of S._ ii. 1.
+26: "For shame, thou hilding;" _A.W._ iii. 6. 4: "If your lordship find
+him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect," etc. See also iii.
+5. 167 below. It is used as an adjective in _2 Hen. IV._ i. 1. 57 and
+_Hen. V._ iv. 2. 29.
+
+44. _Grey eye._ Here Malone and others make _grey_ = blue; while
+Steevens and Ulrici take the ground that it has its ordinary meaning.
+The latter quote _Temp._ i. 2. 269 ("This blue-eyed hag") in proof that
+blue eyes were accounted ugly; but the reference there, as in _A.Y.L._
+iii. 2. 393 ("a blue eye and sunken"), seems to be to a bluish circle
+about the eyes. It is curious that these are the only specific allusions
+to blue eyes in S. In _W.T._ i. 2. 136, some make "welkin eye" = blue
+eye; but it is more probably = heavenly eye, as Schmidt gives it. In _V.
+and A._ 482 ("Her two blue windows faintly she upheaveth") the eyelids,
+not the eyes, are meant, on account of their "blue veins" (_R. of L._
+440). Cf. _Cymb._ ii. 2. 21:--
+
+ "would under-peep her lids,
+ To see the enclosed lights, now canopied
+ Under these windows, white and azure lac'd
+ With blue of heaven's own tinct."
+
+Malone cites both this last passage and _V. and A._ 482 as referring to
+blue eyes; but the "azure _lac'd_" ought to settle the question in
+regard to the former, and "windows" evidently has the same meaning in
+both. If the "blue windows" _were_ blue eyes, Malone would make out his
+case, for in _V. and A._ 140 the goddess says "Mine eyes are grey and
+bright." But why should the poet call them _blue_ in the one place and
+_grey_ in the other, when the former word would suit the verse equally
+well in both? In my opinion, when he says _blue_ he means blue, and when
+he says _grey_ he means grey. See on ii. 3. 1 above. The _New Eng.
+Dict._ does not recognize blue as a meaning of _grey_. It seems,
+however, from certain passages in writers of the time that the word was
+sometimes = bluish grey or bluish; but never "bright blue" (as Delius
+defines it) or clear blue, as Dyce and others assume.
+
+46. _Slop._ For _slops_ (= large loose breeches), see _Much Ado_, iii.
+2. 36, etc. _Gave us the counterfeit_ = played a trick on us.
+_Counterfeit_ is used for the sake of the coming play on _slip_, which
+sometimes meant a counterfeit coin. Cf. Greene, _Thieves Falling Out_,
+etc.: "counterfeit pieces of money, being brasse, and covered over with
+silver, which the common people call slips." There is also a play upon
+the word in the only other instance in which S. uses it, _V. and A._
+515:--
+
+ "Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips
+ Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips."
+
+58. _Kindly._ The word literally means "naturally, in a manner suited to
+the character or occasion" (Schmidt); hence aptly, pertinently.
+
+63. _Then is my pump_, etc. The idea seems to be, my shoe or _pump_,
+being _pinked_ or punched with holes, is well _flowered_. Cf. _unpinked_
+in _T. of S._ iv. 1. 136: "And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the
+heel."
+
+68. _Single-soled._ "With a quibble on _sole_ and _soul_ = having but
+one sole, and silly, contemptible" (Schmidt). Steevens gives several
+examples of _single-soled_ = mean, contemptible. _Singleness_ here =
+simplicity, silliness.
+
+74. _Wild-goose chase._ A kind of horse-race, resembling the flight of
+wild geese. Two horses were started together; and if one got the lead
+the other was obliged to follow over whatever ground the foremost rider
+chose to take (Holt White).
+
+77. _Was I with you_, etc. Was I even with you, have I paid you off? as,
+perhaps, in _T. of S._ iv. 1. 170: "What, do you grumble? I'll be with
+you straight!" For the allusion to _five wits_ see on i. 4. 47 above.
+
+80. _I will bite thee by the ear._ A playful expression of endearment,
+common in the old dramatists.
+
+81. _Good goose, bite not._ A proverbial phrase, found in Ray's
+_Proverbs_.
+
+82. _Sweeting._ A kind of sweet apple. The word is still used in this
+sense, at least in New England. Steevens quotes Sumner's _Last Will and
+Testament_, 1600: "as well crabs as sweetings for his summer fruits."
+There was also a variety known as the _bittersweet_. Cf. _Fair Em_: "And
+left me such a bitter sweet to gnaw upon."
+
+84. _And is it not well served in_, etc. White remarks that "the passage
+illustrates the antiquity of that dish so much esteemed by all boys and
+many men--goose and apple-sauce." Cf. the allusions to mutton and capers
+in _T.N._ i. 3. 129, and to beef and mustard in _M.N.D._ iii. 1. 197 and
+_T. of S._ iv. 3. 23.
+
+86. _Cheveril._ Soft kid leather for gloves, proverbially elastic. Cf.
+_Hen. VIII._ ii. 3. 32:--
+
+ "which gifts,
+ Saving your mincing, the capacity
+ Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive,
+ If you might please to stretch it."
+
+See also _T.N._ iii. 1. 13: "a cheveril glove," etc.
+
+90. _A broad goose._ No satisfactory explanation of this quibble has
+been given. Schmidt defines _broad_ here as "plain, evident." Dowden
+suggests that there is a play on _brood-goose_, which occurs in
+Fletcher, _Humorous Lieutenant_, ii. 1: "They have no more burden than a
+brood-goose" (breeding goose).
+
+95. _Natural._ Fool, idiot. Cf. _Temp._ iii. 2. 37 and _A.Y.L._ i. 2.
+52, 57.
+
+97. _Gear._ Matter, business. Cf. _T. and C._ i. 1. 6: "Will this gear
+ne'er be mended?" _2 Hen. VI._ i. 4. 17: "To this gear the sooner the
+better," etc.
+
+99. _Two, two_, etc. This is given to Mercutio in most of the early
+eds., and White doubts whether it belongs to the sober Benvolio; but he
+is not incapable of fun. Cf. 125 below.
+
+102. _My fan, Peter._ Cf. _L. L. L._ iv. 1. 147: "To see him walk before a
+lady and to bear her fan!" The fans of the time of S. were large and
+heavy.
+
+105. _God ye good morrow._ That is, God give ye, etc. For _good den_,
+see on i. 2. 57 above.
+
+109. _Prick of noon._ Point of noon. Cf. 3 _Hen. VI._ i. 4. 34: "at the
+noontide prick." See also _R. of L._ 781.
+
+123. _Confidence._ Probably meant for _conference_. Cf. _Much Ado_,
+iii. 5. 3, where Dogberry says, "Marry, sir, I would have some
+confidence with you that decerns you nearly."
+
+125. _Indite._ Probably used in ridicule of the Nurse's _confidence_.
+Mrs. Quickly uses the word in the same way in _2 Hen. IV._ ii. 1. 30:
+"he is indited to dinner."
+
+126. _So ho!_ The cry of the sportsmen when they find a hare. Hence
+Romeo's question that follows.
+
+129. _Hoar._ Often = mouldy, as things grow white from moulding
+(Steevens).
+
+134. _Lady, lady, lady._ From the old ballad of _Susanna_, also quoted
+in _T.N._ ii. 3. 85: "There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!"
+
+136. _Merchant._ Used contemptuously, like _chap_, which is a
+contraction of _chapman_. Cf. _1 Hen. VI._ ii. 3. 57: "a riddling
+merchant;" and Churchyard's _Chance_, 1580: "What saucie merchaunt
+speaketh now, saied Venus in her rage?"
+
+137. _Ropery._ Roguery. Steevens quotes _The Three Ladies of London_,
+1584: "Thou art very pleasant and full of thy roperye." Cf.
+_rope-tricks_ in _T. of S._ i. 2. 112, which Schmidt explains as "tricks
+deserving the halter." Nares and Douce see the same allusion in
+_ropery_.
+
+143. _Jacks._ For the contemptuous use of the word, cf. _M. of V._ iii.
+4. 77: "these bragging Jacks;" _Much Ado_, v. 1. 91: "Boys, apes,
+braggarts, Jacks, milksops!" etc.
+
+144. _Flirt-gills._ That is _flirting Gills_ or women of loose
+behaviour. _Gill_ or _Jill_ was a familiar term for a woman, as _Jack_
+was for a man. Cf. the proverb, "Every Jack must have his Jill;" alluded
+to in _L. L. L._ v. 2. 885 and _M.N.D._ iii. 2. 461. The word is a
+contraction of _Gillian_ (see _C. of E._ iii. 1. 31), which is a
+corruption of _Juliana_. _Gill-flirt_ was the more common form.
+
+145. _Skains-mates._ A puzzle to the commentators. As _skein_ is an
+Irish word for knife (used by Warner, Greene, Chapman, and other writers
+of the time) Malone and Steevens make _skains-mates_ mean "cut-throat
+companions" or fencing-school companions. Schmidt defines it as
+"messmates," and Nares as probably = "roaring or swaggering companions."
+Various other explanations have been suggested; but there is probably
+some corruption in the first part of the compound.
+
+153. _Afore._ Not a mere vulgarism. It is used by Capulet in iii. 4. 34
+and iv. 2. 31 below. Cf. _Temp._ iv. 1. 7:--
+
+ "here afore Heaven,
+ I ratify this my rich gift," etc.
+
+158. _In a fool's paradise._ Malone cities _A handfull of Pleasant
+Delightes, 1584_:--
+
+ "When they see they may her win,
+ They leave then where they did begin;
+ They prate, and make the matter nice,
+ And leave her in fooles paradise."
+
+and Barnaby Rich's _Farewell_: "Knowing the fashion of you men to be
+such, as by praisyng our beautie, you think to bring into a fooles
+paradize."
+
+162. _Weak._ Explained by Schmidt as "stupid." Clarke thinks that "she
+intends to use a most forcible expression, and blunders upon a most
+feeble one."
+
+177. _And stay_, etc. The pointing is White's. Most editors follow the
+early eds. and read "And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall, etc."
+
+180. _A tackled stair._ That is, a rope-ladder. Cf. "ladder-tackle" in
+_Per._ iv. 1. 61.
+
+181. _High top-gallant._ The top-gallant mast; figuratively for summit
+or climax. Steevens quotes Markham, _English Arcadia_, 1607: "the high
+top-gallant of his valour." S. uses the term only here.
+
+183. _Quit._ Requite, reward. Cf. _Ham._ v. 2. 68, 280, etc.
+
+184. _Mistress._ A trisyllable here.
+
+188. _Two may keep counsel._ That is, keep a secret. Cf. _T.A._ iv. 2.
+144: "Two may keep counsel when the third's away."
+
+191. _Lord_, etc. Cf. Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "A prety babe (quod she) it was when it was yong:
+ Lord how it could full pretely haue prated with it [its] tong."
+
+194. _Lieve._ Often used for _lief_ in the old eds. It is sometimes
+found in good writers of recent date. Mätzner quotes Sheridan: "I had as
+lieve be shot."
+
+195. _Properer._ Handsomer. Cf. _A.Y.L._ i. 2. 129, iii. 5. 51, etc. See
+also _Hebrews_, xi. 23.
+
+197. _Pale as any clout._ A common simile of which Dowden cites examples
+from Bunyan and others. _Versal_ is a vulgarism for _universal_.
+
+198. _A letter._ One letter. Cf. _Ham._ v. 2. 276: "These foils have all
+a length," etc. For _rosemary_ as the symbol of remembrance, see _Ham._
+iv. 5. 175.
+
+200. _The dog's name._ _R_ was called "the dog's letter." Cf. Jonson,
+_Eng. Gram._: "R is the dog's letter and hurreth in the sound." Farmer
+cites Barclay, _Ship of Fools_, 1578:--
+
+ "This man malicious which troubled is with wrath,
+ Nought els soundeth but the hoorse letter R.
+ Though all be well, yet he none aunswere hath
+ Save the dogges letter glowming with nar, nar."
+
+Dyce remarks: "Even in the days of the Romans, _R_ was called _the dog's
+letter_, from its resemblance in sound to the snarling of a dog."
+
+208. _Before, and apace._ Go before, and quickly. For _apace_, cf. iii.
+2. 1 below.
+
+
+SCENE V.--7. _Love._ That is, Venus. Cf. _Temp._ iv. 1. 94:--
+
+ "I met her deity
+ Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son
+ Dove-drawn with her;"
+
+and _V. and A._ 1190:--
+
+ "Thus weary of the world, away she hies,
+ And yokes her silver doves."
+
+9. _Highmost._ Cf. _Sonn._ 7. 9: "But when from highmost pitch, with
+weary ear," etc. We still use _hindmost_, _topmost_, etc.
+
+11. _Hours._ A dissyllable; as in iii. 1. 198.
+
+14. _Bandy._ A metaphor from tennis. Cf. _L. L. L._ v. 2. 29: "Well
+bandied both; a set of wit well play'd," etc. See on iii. 1. 91 below.
+
+18. _Honey nurse._ Cf. _L. L. L._ v. 2. 530: "my fair, sweet, honey
+monarch;" _T. of S._ iv. 3. 52: "my honey love," etc.
+
+22. _Them._ S. makes _news_ both singular and plural. For the latter,
+cf. _Much Ado_, i. 2. 4.
+
+25. _Give me leave._ Let me alone, let me rest. See on i. 3. 7 above.
+
+26. _Ache._ Spelt "ake" in the folio both here and in 49 below. This
+indicates the pronunciation of the verb. The noun was pronounced
+_aitch_, and the plural was a dissyllable; as in _Temp._ i. 2. 370, _T.
+of A._ i. 1. 257, etc.
+
+36. _Stay the circumstance._ Wait for the particulars. Cf. _A.Y.L._ iii.
+2. 221: "let me stay the growth of his beard," etc. On _circumstance_,
+cf. v. 3. 181 below: "without circumstance" (= without further
+particulars). See also _V. and A._ 844, _Ham._ v. 2. 2, etc.
+
+38. _Simple._ Silly; as often. Cf. iii. 1. 35 below, and _simpleness_ in
+iii. 3. 77.
+
+43. _Past compare._ Cf. iii. 5. 236 below: "above compare," etc.
+
+50. _As._ As if; a common ellipsis.
+
+51. _O' t'other._ On the other. Cf. i. 1. 44 above: "of our side."
+
+52. _Beshrew._ A mild form of imprecation, often used playfully. Cf.
+iii. 5. 221, 227 below.
+
+56-58. _Your love_, etc. Printed as prose by the Cambridge editors,
+Daniel, and some others.
+
+66. _Coil._ Ado, "fuss." See _Much Ado_, iii. 3. 100, _M.N.D._ iii. 2.
+339, etc.
+
+72. _Straight at any news._ Capell explains it, "at such talk (of love
+and Romeo), _any_ talk of that kind." Perhaps, as Dowden suggests, the
+meaning is, "It is their way to redden at any surprise."
+
+
+SCENE VI.--9. _These violent delights_, etc. Malone compares _R. of L._
+894: "These violent vanities can never last." He might have added _Ham._
+ii. 1. 102:--
+
+ "This is the very ecstasy of love,
+ Whose violent property fordoes itself."
+
+10. _Like fire and powder._ For the simile, cf. iii. 3. 132 and v. 1. 64
+below.
+
+12. _His._ Its; as often. _Its_ was just coming into use when S. wrote.
+Cf. v. 3. 203 below.
+
+13. _Confounds._ Destroys; as often. Cf. _Macb._ ii. 2. 12, iv. 1. 54,
+iv. 3. 99, etc. So _confusion_ often = destruction, ruin; as in iv. 5.
+61 below.
+
+15. _Too swift_, etc. "The more haste, the worse speed."
+
+17. _Will ne'er wear out_, etc. White thinks that the reading of the 1st
+quarto, "So light a foot ne'er hurts the trodden flower," is "a daintier
+and more graceful, and therefore, it would seem, a more appropriate
+figure." The quarto, it is true, gives the "daintier" figure, which has
+been used by the poets from Pope's description of Camilla flying "o'er
+the unbending corn" to Tennyson's Olivia in _The Talking Oak_:--
+
+ "The flower she touch'd on dipt and rose,
+ And turn'd to look at her."
+
+It would be appropriate in the Friar's mouth if he were in the fields,
+as in ii. 3, and Juliet had met him there. Very likely S. at first wrote
+it as in the quarto, but his poetic instinct led him to change it in
+revising the play. The speaker is now in his cell, with its stone floor
+worn by the tread of many heavy feet--such as one sees in old churches
+and monasteries in Europe--but Juliet's light step will not thus wear
+"the everlasting flint." The comparison is natural and apt.
+
+18. _Gossamer._ Light filaments floating in the air, especially in
+autumn. Their origin was formerly not understood, but they are now
+known to be the webs of certain species of spiders. Cf. _Lear_, iv. 6.
+49: "Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air." S. uses the
+word only twice.
+
+20. _Vanity._ "Here used for 'trivial pursuit,' 'vain delight.' The word
+was much used in this sense by divines in Shakespeare's time, and with
+much propriety is so put into the good old Friar's mouth" (Clarke).
+
+21. _Confessor._ For the accent on the first syllable, cf. _M. for M._
+iv. 3. 133: "One of our covent and his confessor;" and _Hen. VIII._ i.
+2. 149: "His confessor, who fed him every minute," etc. See also iii. 3.
+49 below.
+
+25. _And that._ And if. This use of _that_ (in place of a preceding
+conjunction) is common in S. Cf. _L. L. L._ v. 2. 813, _T. and C._ ii. 2.
+179, etc.
+
+26. _Blazon it._ Set it forth. Cf. _Oth._ ii. 1. 63: "One that excels
+the quirks of blazoning pens," etc.
+
+29. _Encounter._ Meeting. It is often used, as here, of the meeting of
+lovers. Cf. _Much Ado_, iii. 3. 161, iv. 1. 94, M.W. iii. 5. 74, etc.
+
+30. _Conceit._ Conception, imagination. Cf. _Ham._ iii. 4. 114: "Conceit
+in weakest bodies strongest works," etc. So _conceited_ = imaginative in
+_R. of L._ 1371: "the conceited painter," etc.
+
+32. _They are but beggars_, etc. Cf. _A. and C._ i. 1. 15: "There's
+beggary in the love that can be reckon'd." _Worth_ = wealth.
+
+36. _Leaves._ The plural is used because the reference is to more than
+one person; a common construction in S. Cf. _Rich. II._ iv. 1. 314:
+"your sights," etc.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III
+
+
+SCENE I.--2. _The day is hot._ "It is observed that in Italy almost all
+assassinations are committed during the heat of summer" (Johnson).
+
+3. _Scape._ Not "'scape," as often printed. The word is used in prose;
+as in _M. of V._ ii. 2. 174, etc.
+
+6. _Me._ See on ii. 4. 23 above. We have the same construction in _him_,
+two lines below, where some eds. have "it" (from 1st quarto).
+
+8. _Operation._ Effect. Cf. _2 Hen. IV._ iv. 3. 104: "A good
+sherris-sack hath a twofold operation in it," etc.
+
+11. _Am I_, etc. "The quietness of this retort, with the slight but
+significant emphasis which we imagine thrown upon the _I_, admirably
+gives point to the humorous effect of Mercutio's lecturing Benvolio--the
+sedate and peace-making Benvolio, and lectured by Mercutio, of all
+people!--for the sin of quarrelsomeness" (Clarke).
+
+12. _Jack._ See on ii. 4. 127 above.
+
+14. _Moody._ Angry. Cf. _2 Hen. IV._ iv. 4. 39: "But, being moody, give
+him line and scope," etc.
+
+31. _Tutor me from._ Teach me to avoid.
+
+39. _Good den._ See on i. 2. 57 above.
+
+43. _Apt enough to._ Ready enough for. Cf. iii. 3. 157 below.
+
+47. _Consort'st with._ Keepest company with. Cf. _V. and A._ 1041,
+_M.N.D._ iii. 2. 387, _T. and C._ v. 3. 9, etc.
+
+48. _Consort._ The word (with accent on first syllable) sometimes meant
+a company of musicians. Cf. _T.G. of V._ iii. 2. 84:--
+
+ "Visit by night your lady's chamber-window
+ With some sweet consort; to their instruments
+ Tune a deploring dump," etc.
+
+See also _2 Hen. VI._ iii. 2. 327. In these passages the modern eds.
+generally read "concert." Milton has _consort_ in the same sense in the
+_Ode at a Solemn Musick_, 27:--
+
+ "O, may we soon again renew that song,
+ And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long
+ To his celestial consort us unite,
+ To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light!"
+
+Cf. _Ode on Nativ._ 132: "Make up full consort to the angelic symphony;"
+_Il Pens._ 145: "With such consort as they keep," etc. "The _consorts_
+of S.'s time were not only concerted music, but generally composed of
+such instruments as belonged to one family. If, for example, only viols
+were employed, the consort was called _whole_, but if virginal, lute, or
+flute came into the combination, it was a _broken consort_, or _broken
+music_" (Elson). Cf. _A.Y.L._ i. 2. 150, etc.
+
+51. _Zounds._ Like _'swounds_ (see _Ham._ ii. 2. 604), an oath
+contracted from "God's wounds!" and generally omitted or changed in the
+folio in deference to the statute of James I. against the use of the
+name of God on the stage. Here the folio has "Come."
+
+54. _Reason coldly._ Talk coolly or dispassionately. Cf. _M. of V._ ii.
+8. 27: "I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday;" and _Much Ado_, iii. 2.
+132: "bear it coldly but till midnight," etc.
+
+"Benvolio presents a triple alternative: either to withdraw to a private
+place, or to discuss the matter quietly where they were, or else to part
+company; and it is supremely in character that on such an occasion he
+should perceive and suggest all these methods of avoiding public
+scandal" (White).
+
+55. _Depart._ Perhaps = part. Cf. 3 _Hen. VI._ ii. 6. 43: "A deadly
+groan, like life and death's departing," etc. So _depart with_ = part
+with; as in _K. John_, ii. 1. 563:--
+
+ "John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
+ Hath willingly departed with a part," etc.
+
+In the Marriage Ceremony "till death us do part" was originally "us
+depart." The word is used in the same sense in Wiclif's Bible,
+_Matthew_, xix. 6. On the other hand, _part_ often = depart; as in
+_T.N._ v. 1. 394, _Cor._ v. 6. 73, _T. of A._ iv. 2. 21, etc.
+
+57. _I._ The repetition of the pronoun at the end of the sentence is
+common in S. Cf. _T.G. of V._ v. 4. 132: "I care not for her, I;" _Rich._
+_III._ iii. 2. 78: "I do not like these several councils, I;" _T.A._ v.
+3. 113: "I am no vaunter, I;" _Id._ v. 3. 185: "I am no baby, I," etc.
+See also iii. 5. 12 below.
+
+62. _The hate I bear thee._ The reading of 1st quarto. The other early
+eds. have "love"; but Tybalt is not given to irony.
+
+64. _Love._ Delius says that this "is of course ironical," but the
+reiteration in the next speech shows that it is not. Romeo's love for
+Juliet embraces, in a way, all her kindred. His heart, as Talfourd
+expresses it in _Ion_,--
+
+ "Enlarge'd by its new sympathy with one,
+ Grew bountiful to all."
+
+65. _Appertaining rage_, etc. That is, the rage appertaining to
+(belonging to, or becoming) such a greeting. Cf. _Macb._ iii. 6. 48:--
+
+ "our suffering country
+ Under a hand accurst."
+
+68. _Boy._ Often used contemptuously; as in _Much Ado._ v. 1. 83, 187,
+_Cor._ v. 6. 101, 104, 117, etc.
+
+73. _Tender._ Regard, cherish. Cf. _Ham._ i. 3. 107: "Tender yourself
+more dearly," etc.
+
+76. _A la stoccata._ Capell's emendation of the "Alla stucatho" or
+"Allastucatho" of the early eds. _Stoccata_ is the Italian term for a
+thrust or stab with a rapier. It is the same as the "stoccado" of _M.W._
+ii. 1. 234, the "stock" of _Id._ ii. 3. 26, and the "stuck" of _T.N._
+iii. 4. 303 and _Ham._ iv. 7. 162. _Carries it away_ = carries the day.
+
+79. _King of cats._ See on ii. 4. 20 above. On _nine lives_, cf.
+Marston, _Dutch Courtezan_: "Why then thou hast nine lives like a cat,"
+etc. A little black-letter book, _Beware the Cat_, 1584, says that it
+was permitted to a witch "to take on her a cattes body nine times."
+Trusler, in his _Hogarth Moralized_, remarks: "The conceit of a cat's
+having nine lives hath cost at least nine lives in ten of the whole race
+of them. Scarce a boy in the streets but has in this point outdone even
+Hercules himself, who was renowned for killing a monster that had but
+three lives."
+
+81. _Dry-beat._ Beat soundly. Cf. _L. L. L._ v. 2. 263: "all dry-beaten
+with pure scoff." See also iv. 5. 120 below. S. uses the word only three
+times; but we have "dry basting" in _C. of E._ ii. 2. 64.
+
+83. _Pilcher._ Scabbard; but no other example of the word in this sense
+has been found. _Pilch_ or _pilche_ meant a leathern coat, and the word
+or a derivative of it may have been applied to the leathern sheath of a
+rapier.
+
+87. _Passado._ See on ii. 4. 27 above.
+
+89. _Outrage._ A trisyllable here. Cf. _entrance_ in i. 4. 8.
+
+91. _Bandying._ Contending. Cf. 1 _Hen. VI._ iv. 1. 190: "This factious
+bandying of their favourites." For the literal sense, see on ii. 5. 14
+above.
+
+92. The 1st quarto has here the stage-direction, _"Tibalt under Romeos
+arme thrusts Mercutio in and flyes_;" which some modern eds. retain
+substantially.
+
+93. _Sped._ Dispatched, "done for." Cf. _M. of V._ ii. 9. 72: "So
+begone; you are sped;" _T. of S._ v. 2. 185: "We three are married, but
+you two are sped," etc. See also Milton, _Lycidas_, 122: "What need
+they? They are sped" (that is, provided for).
+
+100. _Grave._ Farmer cites Lydgate's _Elegy on Chaucer_: "My master
+Chaucer now is grave;" and Steevens remarks that we have the same
+quibble in _The Revenger's Tragedy_, 1608, where Vindice dresses up a
+lady's skull and says: "she has a somewhat grave look with her." Cf.
+John of Gaunt's play on his name when on his death-bed (_Rich. II._ ii.
+1. 82).
+
+104. _Fights by the book of arithmetic_. Cf. ii. 4. 22 above: "keeps
+time, distance," etc.
+
+111. _Your houses!_ "The broken exclamation of a dying man, who has not
+breath to repeat his former anathema, 'A plague o' both your houses!'"
+(Marshall).
+
+113. _My very friend._ Cf. _T.G. of V._ iii. 2. 41: "his very friend;"
+_M. of V._ iii. 2. 226: "my very friends and countrymen," etc.
+
+116. _Cousin._ Some editors adopt the "kinsman" of 1st quarto; but
+_cousin_ was often = kinsman. See on i. 5. 32 above.
+
+120. _Aspir'd._ Not elsewhere used transitively by S. Cf. Chapman,
+_Iliad_, ix.: "and aspir'd the gods' eternal seats;" Marlowe,
+_Tamburlaine_: "our souls aspire celestial thrones," etc.
+
+121. _Untimely._ Often used adverbially (like many adjectives in -_ly_);
+as in _Macb._ v. 8. 16, _Ham._ iv. 1. 40, etc. See also v. 3. 258 below.
+
+122. _Depend._ Impend (Schmidt). Cf. _R. of L._ 1615: "In me moe woes
+than words are now depending;" and _Cymb._ iv. 3. 23: "our jealousy Doth
+yet depend."
+
+126. _Respective._ Considerate. Cf. _M. of V._ v. 1. 156: "You should
+have been respective," etc.
+
+127. _Conduct._ Conductor, guide. Cf. _Temp._ v. 1. 244:--
+
+ "And there is in this business more than nature
+ Was ever conduct of;"
+
+_Rich. III._ i. 1. 45: "This conduct to convey me to the Tower," etc.
+See also v. 3. 116 below.
+
+129. _For Mercutio's soul_, etc. The passage calls to mind one similar
+yet very different in _Hen. V._ iv. 6. 15 fol.:--
+
+ "And cries aloud, 'Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
+ My soul shall keep thine company to heaven;
+ Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,
+ As in this glorious and well-foughten field
+ We kept together in our chivalry!'"
+
+133. _Consort._ Accompany. Cf. _C. of E._ i. 2. 28: "And afterward
+consort you till bedtime;" _J.C._ v. 1. 83: "Who to Philippi here
+consorted us," etc. For the intransitive use of the word, see on 43
+above.
+
+137. _Doom thee death._ Cf. _Rich. III._ ii. 1. 102: "to doom my
+brother's death;" _T.A._ iv. 2. 114: "The emperor, in his rage, will
+doom her death." _Amazed_ = bewildered, stupefied; as often.
+
+139. _Fortune's fool._ Made a fool of by fortune, the sport of fortune.
+Cf. _Lear_, iv. 6. 195: "The natural fool of fortune." See also _Ham._
+i. 4. 54: "we fools of nature;" and cf. _M. for M._ iii. 1. 11, _Macb._
+ii. 1. 44, etc.
+
+145. _Discover._ Uncover, reveal. See on ii. 2. 106 above.
+
+146. _Manage._ "Bringing about" (Schmidt); or we may say that _all the
+manage_ is simply = the whole course. The word means management,
+administration, in _Temp._ i. 2. 70: "the manage of my state;" _M. of
+V._ iii. 4. 25: "The husbandry and manage of my house," etc. It is
+especially used of horses; as in _A.Y.L._ i. 1. 13, etc.
+
+156. _Spoke him fair._ Spoke gently to him. Cf. _M.N.D._ ii. 1. 199: "Do
+I entice you? do I speak you fair?" _M. of V._ iv. 1. 275: "Say how I
+lov'd you, speak me fair in death" (that is, speak well of me after I am
+dead), etc.
+
+157. _Nice._ Petty, trivial. Cf. _Rich. III._ iii. 7. 175: "nice and
+trivial;" _J.C._ iv. 3. 8: "every nice offence," etc. See also v. 2. 18
+below.
+
+160. _Take truce._ Make peace. Cf. _V. and A._ 82: "Till he take truce
+with her contending tears;" _K. John_, iii. 1. 17: "With my vex'd
+spirits I cannot take a truce," etc. _Spleen_ = heat, impetuosity. Cf.
+_K. John_, iv. 3. 97: "thy hasty spleen;" _Rich. III._ v. 3. 350:
+"Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!" etc.
+
+167. _Retorts._ Throws back; as in _T. and C._ iii. 3. 101:--
+
+ "Heat them, and they retort that heat again
+ To the first giver," etc.
+
+171. _Envious._ Malicious; as often.
+
+173. _By and by._ Presently. See on ii. 2. 151 above, and cf. iii. 3. 76
+and v. 3. 284 below.
+
+180. _Affection makes him false._ "The charge, though produced at
+hazard, is very just. The author, who seems to intend the character of
+Benvolio as good, meant, perhaps, to show how the best minds, in a state
+of faction and discord, are detorted to criminal partiality" (Johnson).
+
+188. _Concludes._ For the transitive use (= end), cf. _2 Hen. VI._ iii.
+1. 153: "Will not conclude their plotted tragedy."
+
+190. _Exile._ Accented by S. on either syllable. So also with the noun
+in iii. 3. 20 and v. 3. 211 below.
+
+193. _Amerce._ Used by S. only here.
+
+196. _Purchase out._ Cf. buy out in _C. of E._ i. 2. 5, _K. John_, iii.
+1. 164, _Ham._ iii. 3. 60, etc.
+
+198. _Hour._ Metrically a dissyllable; as in ii. 5. 11 above. Cf.
+_Temp._ v. 1. 4. etc.
+
+200. _Mercy but murthers_, etc. Malone quotes Hale, _Memorials_: "When I
+find myself swayed to mercy, let me remember likewise that there is a
+mercy due to the country."
+
+
+SCENE II.--1. _Gallop apace_, etc. Malone remarks that S. probably
+remembered Marlowe's _Edward II._, which was performed before 1593:--
+
+ "Gallop apace, bright Phœbus, through the skie,
+ And dusky night, in rusty iron car;
+ Between you both, shorten the time, I pray,
+ That I may see that most desired day;"
+
+and Barnaby Rich's _Farewell_, 1583: "The day to his seeming passed away
+so slowely that he had thought the stately steedes had bin tired that
+drawe the chariot of the Sunne, and wished that Phaeton had beene there
+with a whippe." For the thought, cf. _Temp._ iv. 1. 30.
+
+3. _Phaethon._ For other allusions to the ambitious youth, see _T.G. of
+V._ iii. 1. 153, _Rich. II._ iii. 3. 178, and _3 Hen. VI._ i. 4. 33, ii.
+6. 12.
+
+6. _That runaways' eyes may wink._ This is the great _crux_ of the play,
+and more has been written about it than would fill a volume like this.
+The condensed summary of the comments upon it fills twenty-eight octavo
+pages of fine print in Furness, to which I must refer the curious
+reader. The early eds. have "runnawayes," "run-awayes," "run-awaies," or
+"run-aways." Those who retain this as a possessive singular refer it
+variously to Phœbus, Phaethon, Cupid, Night, the sun, the moon,
+Romeo, and Juliet; those who make it a possessive plural generally
+understand it to mean persons running about the streets at night. No one
+of the former list of interpretations is at all satisfactory.
+Personally, I am quite well satisfied to read _runaways'_, and to accept
+the explanation given by Hunter and adopted by Delius, Schmidt, Daniel,
+and others. It is the simplest possible solution, and is favoured by the
+_untalk'd of_ that follows. White objects to it that "_runaway_ seems to
+have been used only to mean one who ran away, and that _runagate_, which
+had the same meaning then that it has now, would have suited the verse
+quite as well as _runaway_;" but, as Furnivall and others have noted,
+Cotgrave apparently uses _runaway_ and _runagate_ as nearly equivalent
+terms. In a letter in the _Academy_ for Nov. 30, 1878, Furnivall, after
+referring to his former citations in favour of _runaways_ = "runagates,
+runabouts," and to the fact that Ingleby and Schmidt have since given
+the same interpretation, adds, "But I still desire to cite an instance
+in which Shakspere himself renders Holinshed's 'runagates' by his own
+'runaways.' In the second edition of Holinshed's _Chronicle_, 1587,
+which Shakspere used for his _Richard III._, he found the passage (p.
+756, col. 2): 'You see further, how a company of traitors, thieves,
+outlaws, and _runagates_, be aiders and partakers of this feate and
+enterprise,' etc. And he turned it thus into verse (1st folio, p.
+203):--
+
+ "'Remember whom you are to cope withall,
+ A sort of Vagabonds, Rascals, and _Run-awayes_,
+ A scum of Brittaines, and base Lackey Pezants,
+ Whom their o're-cloyed Country vomits forth
+ To desperate Aduentures, and assur'd Destruction.
+ You sleeping safe, they bring you to vnrest.'" etc.
+
+Herford regards this interpretation as "a prosaic idea;" but it seems to
+me perfectly in keeping with the character and the situation. The
+marriage was a secret one, and Juliet would not have Romeo, if seen,
+supposed to be a paramour visiting her by night. She knows also the
+danger he incurs if detected by her kinsmen. Cf. ii. 2. 64 fol. above.
+
+10. _Civil._ Grave, sober. Cf. _M.W._ ii. 2. 101: "a civil modest wife,"
+etc.
+
+12. _Learn._ Teach; as often. Cf. _A.Y.L._ i. 2. 5, _Cymb._ i. 5. 12,
+etc.
+
+14. _Hood my unmann'd blood_, etc. The terms are taken from falconry.
+The hawk was _hooded_ till ready to let fly at the game. Cf. _Hen. V._
+iii. 7. 121: "'tis a hooded valour; and when it appears it will bate."
+An _unmanned_ hawk was one not sufficiently trained to know the voice of
+her keeper (see on ii. 2. 159 above). To _bate_ was to flutter or flap
+the wings, as the hawk did when unhooded and eager to fly. Cf. _T. of
+S._ iv. 1. 199:--
+
+ "as we watch these kites
+ That bate and beat and will not be obedient."
+
+Dyce quotes Holmes, _Acad. of Armory_: "_Bate_, Bateing or Bateth, is
+when the Hawk fluttereth with her Wings either from Pearch or Fist, as
+it were striveing to get away; also it is taken from her striving with
+her Prey, and not forsaking it till it be overcome."
+
+15. _Strange._ Reserved, retiring.
+
+17. _Come, Night_, etc. Mrs. Jameson remarks: "The fond adjuration,
+'Come, Night, come, Romeo, _come thou day in night_!' expresses that
+fulness of enthusiastic admiration for her lover which possesses her
+whole soul; but expresses it as only Juliet could or would have
+expressed it--in a bold and beautiful metaphor. Let it be remembered
+that, in this speech, Juliet is not supposed to be addressing an
+audience, nor even a confidante; and I confess I have been shocked at
+the utter want of taste and refinement in those who, with coarse
+derision, or in a spirit of prudery, yet more gross and perverse, have
+dared to comment on this beautiful 'Hymn to the Night,' breathed out by
+Juliet in the silence and solitude of her chamber. She is thinking
+aloud; it is the young heart 'triumphing to itself in words.' In the
+midst of all the vehemence with which she calls upon the night to bring
+Romeo to her arms, there is something so almost infantine in her perfect
+simplicity, so playful and fantastic in the imagery and language, that
+the charm of sentiment and innocence is thrown over the whole; and her
+impatience, to use her own expression, is truly that of 'a child before
+a festival, that hath new robes and may not wear them.' It is at the
+very moment too that her whole heart and fancy are abandoned to blissful
+anticipation that the Nurse enters with the news of Romeo's banishment;
+and the immediate transition from rapture to despair has a most powerful
+effect."
+
+18. _For thou_, etc. "Indeed, the whole of this speech is imagination
+strained to the highest; and observe the blessed effect on the purity of
+the mind. What would Dryden have made of it?" (Coleridge).
+
+20. _Black-brow'd Night._ Cf. _King John_, v. 6. 17: "Why, here walk I
+in the black brow of night."
+
+25. _The garish sun._ Johnson remarks: "Milton had this speech in his
+thoughts when he wrote in _Il Pens._, 'Till civil-suited morn appear,'
+and 'Hide me from day's garish eye.'" S. uses _garish_ only here and in
+_Rich. III._ iv. 4. 89: "a garish flag."
+
+26, 27. _I have bought_, etc. There is a strange confusion of metaphors
+here. Juliet is first the buyer and then the thing bought. She seems to
+have in mind that what she says of herself is equally true of Romeo. In
+the next sentence she reverts to her own position.
+
+30. _That hath new robes_, etc. Cf. _Much Ado_, iii. 2. 5: "Nay, that
+would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage as to show a
+child his new coat and forbid him to wear it." See also _Macb._ i. 7.
+34.
+
+40. _Envious._ Malignant; as in i. 1. 148 and iii. 1. 171 above.
+
+45. _But ay._ In the time of S. _ay_ was commonly written and printed
+_I_, which explains the play upon the word here. Most editors print "but
+'I'" here, but it does not seem necessary to the understanding of the
+quibble. Lines 45-51 evidently belong to the first draft of the play.
+
+47. _Death-darting eye_, etc. The eye of the fabled cockatrice or
+basilisk was said to kill with a glance. Cf. _T.N._ iii. 4. 215: "they
+will kill one another by the look, like two cockatrices;" _Rich. III._
+iv. 1. 55:--
+
+ "A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world,
+ Whose unavoided eye is murtherous," etc.
+
+49. _Those eyes._ That is, Romeo's.
+
+51. _Determine of._ Decide. Cf. _2 Hen IV._ iv. 1. 164:--
+
+ "To hear and absolutely to determine
+ Of what conditions we shall stand upon."
+
+See also _T.G. of V._ ii. 4. 181, _Rich. III._ iii. 4. 2, etc.
+
+53. _God save the mark!_ An exclamation of uncertain origin, commonly =
+saving your reverence, but sometimes, as here = God have mercy! Cf. _1
+Hen. IV._ i. 3. 56. So _God bless the mark_! in _M. of V._ ii. 2. 25,
+_Oth._ i. 1. 33, etc.
+
+56. _Gore-blood._ Clotted blood. Forby remarks that the combination is
+an East-Anglian provincialism. Halliwell-Phillipps cites Vicars, trans,
+of _Virgil_, 1632: "Whose hollow wound vented much black gore-bloud."
+_Swounded_ is the reading of the 1st quarto; the other early eds. have
+"sounded," "swouned," and "swooned." In _R. of. L._ 1486 we have
+"swounds" rhyming with "wounds."
+
+57. _Bankrupt._ The early eds. have "banckrout" or "bankrout," as often
+in other passages and other writers of the time.
+
+64. _Contrary._ The adjective is accented by S. on the first or second
+syllable. Cf. _Ham._ iii. 2. 221, etc. For the verb, see on i. 5. 87
+above.
+
+73. _O serpent heart_, etc. Cf. _Macb._ i. 5. 66:--
+
+ "look like the innocent flower,
+ But be the serpent under it."
+
+Mrs. Jameson remarks on this passage: "This highly figurative and
+antithetical exuberance of language is defended by Schlegel on strong
+and just grounds; and to me also it appears natural, however critics may
+argue against its taste or propriety. The warmth and vivacity of
+Juliet's fancy, which plays like a light over every part of her
+character--which animates every line she utters--which kindles every
+thought into a picture, and clothes her emotions in visible images,
+would naturally, under strong and unusual excitement, and in the
+conflict of opposing sentiments, run into some extravagance of diction."
+Cf. i. 1. 168 fol. above.
+
+83. _Was ever book_, etc. Cf. i. 3. 66 above.
+
+84. _O, that deceit_, etc. Cf. _Temp._ i. 2. 468: "If the ill spirit
+have so fair a house," etc.
+
+86, 87. Mr. Fleay improves the metre by a slight transposition, which
+Marshall adopts:--
+
+ "No faith, no honesty in men; all naught,
+ All perjur'd, all dissemblers, all forsworn;"
+
+which may be what S. wrote.
+
+_Naught_ = worthless, bad. Cf. _Much Ado_, $1. $2. 157, _Hen. V._ i. 2.
+73, etc. The word in this sense is usually spelt _naught_ in the early
+eds., but _nought_ when = nothing. _Dissemblers_ is here a
+quadrisyllable. See p. 159 above.
+
+90. _Blister'd_, etc. "Note the Nurse's mistake of the mind's audible
+struggle with itself for its decisions in _toto_" (Coleridge).
+
+92. _Upon his brow_, etc. Steevens quotes Paynter: "Is it possible that
+under such beautie and rare comelinesse, disloyaltie and treason may
+have their siedge and lodging?" The image of shame _sitting_ on the brow
+is not in Brooke's poem.
+
+98. _Poor my lord._ Cf. "sweet my mother," iii. 5. 198 below. The
+figurative meaning of _smooth_ is sufficiently explained by the
+following _mangle_. Cf. i. 5. 98 above, and see Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "Ah cruell murthering tong, murthrer of others fame:
+ How durst thou once attempt to tooch the honor of his name?
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Whether shall he (alas) poore banishd man, now flye?
+ What place of succor shall he seeke beneth the starry skye?
+ Synce she pursueth him, and him defames by wrong:
+ That in distres should be his fort, and onely rampier strong."
+
+108. _Worser._ Cf. ii. 3. 29 above. S. uses it often, both as adjective
+and adverb.
+
+112. _Banished._ Note how the trisyllabic pronunciation is emphatically
+repeated in this speech; as in Romeo's in the next scene (19-50).
+
+116. _Sour woe delights_, etc. That is, "misfortunes never come single."
+Cf. _Ham._ iv. 5. 78:--
+
+ "When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
+ But in battalions."
+
+117. _Needly will._ Needs must. _Needly_ was not coined by S., as some
+have supposed, being found in _Piers Plowman_ and other early English.
+He uses it only here.
+
+120. _Modern._ Trite, commonplace; the only meaning of the word in S.
+See _A.Y.L._ ii. 7. 156, _Macb._ iv. 3. 170, etc.
+
+121. _Rearward._ Cf. Sonn. 90. 6:--
+
+ "Ah! do not, when my heart hath scap'd this sorrow,
+ Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe"--
+
+(that is, to attack me anew); and _Much Ado_, iv. 1. 128:--
+
+ "Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
+ Strike at thy life."
+
+The metaphor is a military one, referring to a rear-guard or reserve
+which follows up the attack of the vanguard or of the main army.
+
+126. _Sound._ Utter, express; or "'to sound as with a plummet' is
+possible" (Dowden). _That word's death_ = the death implied in that
+word.
+
+130. _Wash they_, etc. That is, let them wash, etc. Some eds. put an
+interrogation mark after _tears_, as the 2d quarto does.
+
+137. _Wot._ Know; used only in the present tense and the participle
+_wotting_.
+
+
+SCENE III.--1. _Fearful._ Full of fear, afraid; Cf. _M.N.D._ v. 1. 101,
+165, etc.
+
+2. _Parts._ Gifts, endowments. Cf. iii. 5. 181 below: "honourable
+parts."
+
+6. _Familiar._ A quadrisyllable here.
+
+7. _Sour company._ Cf. "sour woe" in iii. 2. 116 above, "sour
+misfortune" in v. 3. 82 below, etc. The figurative sense is a favourite
+one with S.
+
+10. _Vanish'd._ A singular expression, which Massinger has imitated in
+_The Renegado_, v. 5: "Upon those lips from which those sweet words
+vanish'd." In _R. of L._ 1041 the word is used of the breath.
+
+20. _Exile._ For the variable accent (cf. 13 above and 43 below), see on
+iii. 1. 190.
+
+26. _Rush'd aside the law._ Promptly eluded or contravened the law. The
+expression is peculiar, and may be corrupt. "Push'd" and "brush'd" have
+been suggested as emendations.
+
+28. _Dear mercy._ True mercy. Cf. _Much Ado_, i. 1. 129: "A dear
+happiness to women," etc.
+
+29. _Heaven is here_, etc. "All deep passions are a sort of atheists,
+that believe no future" (Coleridge).
+
+33. _Validity._ Value, worth. Cf. _A.W._ v. 3. 192:--
+
+ "O, behold this ring,
+ Whose high respect and rich validity
+ Did lack a parallel."
+
+See also _T.N._ i. 1. 12 and _Lear_, i. 1. 83.
+
+34. _Courtship._ Courtesy, courtliness (as in _L. L. L._ v. 2. 363: "Trim
+gallants, full of courtship and of state," etc.); with the added idea of
+privilege of courting or wooing. For a similar blending of the two
+meanings, cf. _A.Y.L._ iii. 2. 364.
+
+38. _Who._ Cf. i. 1. 109 and i. 4. 97 above.
+
+42. _Free men._ Bitterly sarcastic.
+
+45. _Mean._ Often used by S. in the singular, though oftener in the
+plural. Cf. _W.T._ iv. 4. 89:--
+
+ "Yet nature is made better by no mean,
+ But nature makes that mean," etc.
+
+See also v. 3. 240 below.
+
+48. _Howling._ For the association with _hell_, cf. _2 Hen. IV._ ii. 4.
+374 and _Ham._ v. 1. 265.
+
+49. _Confessor._ For the accent, see on ii. 6. 21 above.
+
+52. _Fond_ = foolish; as often in S. Cf. iv. 5. 78 below.
+
+55. _Adversity's sweet milk._ Cf. _Macb._ iv. 3. 98: "the sweet milk of
+concord," etc.
+
+59. _Displant._ Transplant. S. uses the word only here and in _Oth._ ii.
+1. 283: "the displanting of Cassio."
+
+60. _Prevails._ Avails. Cf. _unprevailing_ in _Ham._ i. 2. 107.
+
+62. _When that._ This use of _that_ as a "conjunctional affix" is
+common. Cf. ii. 6. 25 above.
+
+63. _Dispute._ That is, reason. The verb is used transitively in a
+similar sense in _W.T._ iv. 4. 411 and _Macb._ iv. 3. 220.
+
+70. _Taking the measure_, etc. Cf. _A.Y.L._ ii. 6. 2: "Here lie I down,
+and measure out my grave."
+
+77. _Simpleness._ Folly. Elsewhere = simplicity, innocence; as in _Much
+Ado_, iii. 1. 70, _M.N.D._ v. 1. 83, etc. Cf. _simple_ in ii. 5. 38 and
+iii. 1. 35.
+
+85. _O woful sympathy_, etc. The early eds. give this speech to the
+Nurse. Farmer transferred it to the Friar, and is followed by most of
+the modern eds.
+
+90. _O._ Grief, affliction. In _Lear_, i. 4. 212, it means a cipher. It
+is also used for anything circular; as marks of small-pox (_L. L. L._ v.
+2. 45), stars (_M.N.D._ iii. 2. 188), a theatre (_Hen. V._ prol. 13),
+and the earth (_A. and C._ v. 2. 81).
+
+94. _Old._ Practised, experienced. Cf. _L. L. L._ ii. 1. 254, v. 2. 552,
+_T. and C._ i. 2. 128, ii. 2. 75, etc.
+
+98. _My conceal'd lady._ Not known to the world as my wife. _Conceal'd_
+is accented on the first syllable because before the noun.
+
+103. _Level._ Aim; as in _Sonn._ 117. 11: "the level of your frown;"
+_Hen. VIII._ i. 2. 2: "the level Of a full-charg'd confederacy," etc.
+Cf. the use of the verb in _Much Ado_, ii. 1. 239, _Rich. III._ iv. 4.
+202, etc.
+
+106. _Anatomy._ Contemptuous for body; as in _T.N._ iii. 2. 67.
+
+108. _Hold thy desperate hand!_ etc. Up to this point, as Marshall
+remarks, the Friar "treats Romeo's utter want of self-control with a
+good-humoured tolerance.... It is only when the young man's passion
+threatens to go to the point of violating the law of God and man that he
+speaks with the authority of a priest, and in the tone of stern rebuke.
+This speech is a most admirable composition, full of striking good
+sense, eloquent reasoning, and noble piety."
+
+109. _Art thou_, etc. Cf. Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "Art thou quoth he a man? thy shape saith, so thou art:
+ Thy crying and thy weping eyes, denote a womans hart.
+ For manly reason is quite from of [off] thy mynd outchased,
+ And in her stead affections lewd, and fancies highly placed.
+ So that I stoode in doute this howre (at the least)
+ If thou a man, or woman wert, or els a brutish beast."
+
+113. _Ill-beseeming._ Cf. i. 5. 76 above.
+
+115. _Better temper'd._ Of better temper or quality. Cf. _2 Hen. IV._ i.
+1. 115: "the best temper'd courage in his troops."
+
+118. _Doing damned hate._ Cf. v. 2. 20 below: "do much danger," etc.
+
+119. _Why rail'st thou_, etc. Malone remarks that Romeo has not here
+railed on his birth, etc., though in Brooke's poem he does:--
+
+ "And then, our Romeus, with tender handes ywrong:
+ With voyce, with plaint made horce, wͭ sobs, and with a foltring tong,
+ Renewd with nouel mone the dolours of his hart,
+ His outward dreery cheere bewrayde, his store of inward smart,
+ Fyrst nature did he blame, the author of his lyfe,
+ In which his ioyes had been so scant, and sorrowes aye so ryfe:
+ The time and place of byrth, he fiersly did reproue,
+ He cryed out (with open mouth) against the starres aboue," etc.
+
+In his reply the Friar asks:--
+
+ "Why cryest thou out on loue? why doest thou blame thy fate?
+ Why dost thou so crye after death? thy life why dost thou hate?"
+
+122. _Wit._ See on i. 4. 47 above.
+
+127. _Digressing._ Deviating, departing. It is = transgressing in _Rich.
+II._ v. 3. 66: "thy digressing son."
+
+132. _Like powder_, etc. See on ii. 6. 10 above. Steevens remarks: "The
+ancient English soldiers, using match-locks instead of flints, were
+obliged to carry a lighted _match_ hanging at their belts, very near to
+the wooden _flask_ in which they kept their powder."
+
+134. _And thou_, etc. And thou torn to pieces with thine own means of
+defence.
+
+144. _Pout'st upon._ Cf. _Cor._ v. 1. 52: "We pout upon the morning."
+
+151. _Blaze._ Make public. Cf. _blazon_ in ii. 6. 26 above, and
+_emblaze_ in _2 Hen. VI._ iv. 10. 76.
+
+154. _Lamentation._ Metrically five syllables.
+
+157. _Apt unto._ Inclined to, ready for. Cf. iii. 1. 32 above.
+
+166. _Here stands_, etc. "The whole of your fortune depends on this"
+(Johnson). Cf. ii. 3. 93 and ii. 4. 34 above.
+
+171. _Good hap._ Piece of good luck. Cf. ii. 2. 190 above.
+
+174. _So brief to part._ To part so soon.
+
+
+SCENE IV.--11. _Mew'd up._ Shut up. Cf. _T of S._ i. 1. 87, 188, etc.
+_Mew_ originally meant to moult, or shed the feathers; and as hawks were
+then shut up, it got the secondary sense it has here.
+
+12. _Desperate._ Overbold, venturesome.
+
+23. _Keep no great ado._ Elsewhere in S. the phrase is, as now, _make
+ado._ Cf. _T.G. of V._ iv. 4. 31, _1 Hen. IV._ ii. 4. 223, _Hen. VIII._
+v. 3. 159, etc.
+
+25. _Held him carelessly._ Cf. _3 Hen. VI._ ii. 2. 109: "I hold thee
+reverently;" _Id._ ii. 1. 102: "held thee dearly," etc.
+
+28. _And there an end._ Cf. _T.G. of V._ i. 3. 65, ii. 1. 168, _Rich.
+II._ v. 1. 69, etc.
+
+32. _Against._ Cf. iv. 1. 113 below: "against thou shalt awake."
+
+34. _Afore me._ "By my life, by my soul" (Schmidt). Cf. _Per._ ii. 1.
+84: "Now, afore me, a handsome fellow!" So _before me_, as in _T.N._ ii.
+3. 194, _Oth._ iv. 1. 149, etc.
+
+35. _By and by._ Presently. See on ii. 2. 151 above.
+
+
+SCENE V.--_Juliet's Chamber._ The scene is variously given by the
+editors as "The Garden," "Anti-room of Juliet's Chamber," "Loggia to
+Juliet's Chamber," "An open Gallery to Juliet's Chamber overlooking the
+Orchard," "Juliet's Bedchamber; a Window open upon the Balcony,"
+"Capulet's Orchard," etc. As Malone remarks, Romeo and Juliet probably
+appeared in the balcony at the rear of the old English stage. "The scene
+in the poet's eye was doubtless the large and massy projecting balcony
+before one or more windows, common in Italian palaces and not unfrequent
+in Gothic civil architecture. The _loggia_, an open gallery, or high
+terrace [see cut on p. 85], communicating with the upper apartments of a
+palace, is a common feature in Palladian architecture, and would also be
+well adapted to such a scene" (Verplanck).
+
+4. _Nightly._ It is said that the nightingale, if undisturbed, sits and
+sings upon the same tree for many weeks together (Steevens). This is
+because the male bird sings near where the female is sitting. "The
+preference of the nightingale for the _pomegranate_ is unquestionable.
+'The nightingale sings from the pomegranate groves in the daytime,' says
+Russel in his account of Aleppo. A friend ... informs us that throughout
+his journeys in the East he never heard such a choir of nightingales as
+in a row of pomegranate-trees that skirt the road from Smyrna to
+Boudjia" (Knight).
+
+8. _Lace._ Cf. _Macb._ ii. 3. 118: "His silver skin lac'd with his
+golden blood;" _Cymb._ ii. 2. 22:--
+
+ "white and azure lac'd
+ With blue of heaven's own tinct," etc.
+
+See on ii. 4. 44 above. We have the word used literally in _Much Ado_,
+iii. 4. 20: "laced with silver." On _the severing clouds_, cf. _J.C._
+ii. 1. 103:--
+
+ "yon grey lines
+ That fret the clouds are messengers of day;"[6]
+
+and _Much Ado_, v. 3. 25: "Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey."
+
+9. _Night's candles_, etc. Cf. _Macb._ ii. 1. 5.: "Their candles are all
+out." See also _M. of V._ v. 1. 220 and _Sonn._ 21. 12.
+
+13. _Some meteor_, etc. Cf. _1 Hen. IV._ ii. 4. 351: "My lord, do you
+see these meteors? do you behold these exhalations?" and _Id._ v. 1. 19:
+"an exhal'd meteor."
+
+14. _Torch-bearer._ See on i. 4. 11 above.
+
+[Footnote 6: At the meeting of the new Shakspere Society, Oct. 11, 1878,
+the chairman read a paper by Mr. Ruskin on the word _fret_ in this
+passage. The following is from the report in the London _Academy_:--
+
+"_Fret_ means primarily the rippling of the cloud--as sea by wind;
+secondarily, the breaking it asunder for light to come through. It
+implies a certain degree of vexation, some dissolution, much order, and
+extreme beauty. The reader should have seen 'Daybreak,' and think what
+is broken and by what. The cloud of night is broken up, by Day, which
+breaks out, breaks in, as from heaven to earth, with a breach in the
+cloud wall of it. The thing that the day breaks up is partly a garment
+_rent_, the blanket of the dark torn to be peeped through...."]
+
+19. _Yon grey._ See on ii. 4. 44 above.
+
+20. _The pale reflex of Cynthia's brow._ That is, the pale light of the
+moon shining through or reflected from the breaking clouds _Brow_ is put
+for face, as in _M.N.D._ v. 1. 11: "Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt,"
+etc. Some critics have thought that a setting moon was meant; but only a
+rising moon could light up "the severing clouds" in the way described.
+The _reflection_ (if we take _reflex_ in that literal sense) is from
+their _edges_, as the light from behind falls upon them. Have these
+critics never seen--
+
+ "a sable cloud
+ Turn forth her silver lining on the night"
+
+when the moon was behind it?
+
+21. _Nor that is not._ Double negatives are common in S.
+
+22. _The vaulty heaven._ Cf. _K. John_, v. 2. 52: "the vaulty top of
+heaven;" and _R. of L._ 119: "her vaulty prison" (that is, Night's).
+
+29. _Division._ "The breaking of a melody, or its descant, into small
+notes. The modern musician would call it variation" (Elson). Cf. _1 Hen.
+IV._ iii. 1. 210:--
+
+ "Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
+ With ravishing division, to her lute."
+
+The word is a quadrisyllable here.
+
+31. _The lark_, etc. The toad having beautiful eyes, and the lark very
+ugly ones, it was a popular tradition that they had changed eyes.
+(Warburton).
+
+33. _Affray._ Startle from sleep; as Chaucer in _Blaunche the Duchess_
+(296) is _affrayed_ out of his sleep by "smale foules" (Dowden).
+
+34. _Hunt's-up._ The tune played to wake and collect the hunters
+(Steevens). Cf. Drayton, _Polyolbion_: "But hunts-up to the morn the
+feather'd sylvans sing;" and again in _Third Eclogue_: "Time plays the
+hunts-up to thy sleepy head." We have the full form in _T.A._ ii. 2. 1:
+"The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey." The term was also applied
+to any morning song, and especially one to a new-married woman. Cotgrave
+(ed. 1632) defines _resveil_ as "a Hunts-up, or morning song, for a
+new-maried wife, the day after the mariage."
+
+43. _My lord_, etc. From 1st quarto; the other quartos and 1st folio
+have "love, Lord, ay husband, friend," for which Dowden reads:
+"love-lord, ay, husband-friend." _Friend_ was sometimes = lover; as in
+_Much Ado_, v. 2. 72, _Oth._ iv. 1. 3, _A. and C._ iii. 12. 22, _Cymb._
+i. 4. 74, etc. Cf. Brooke's poem, where Juliet referring to Romeo,
+says:--
+
+ "For whom I am becomme vnto my selfe a foe,
+ Disdayneth me, his steadfast frend, and scornes my frendship so;"
+
+and of their parting the poet says:--
+
+ "With solemne othe they both theyr sorowfull leaue do take;
+ They sweare no stormy troubles shall theyr steady friendship shake."
+
+44. _Day in the hour._ The hyperbole is explained by what follows.
+
+53. _I have an ill-divining soul._ "This miserable prescience of
+futurity I have always regarded as a circumstance particularly
+beautiful. The same kind of warning from the mind Romeo seems to have
+been conscious of, on his going to the entertainment at the house of
+Capulet" (Steevens). See i. 4. 48 and 103 fol. above.
+
+54. _Below._ From 1st quarto; the other early eds. have "so lowe," which
+is preferred by some of the modern editors.
+
+58. _Dry sorrow drinks our blood._ An allusion to the old notion that
+sorrow and sighing exhaust the blood. Cf. _M.N.D._ iii. 2. 97, _Ham._
+iv. 7. 123, _Much Ado_, iii. 1. 78, etc.
+
+65. _Down._ Lying down, abed (Dowden).
+
+66. _Procures her._ Leads her to come. Cf. ii. 2. 145 above. See also
+_M.W._ iv. 6. 48: "procure the vicar To stay for me," etc.
+
+67. _Why, how now, Juliet!_ Mrs. Jameson remarks: "In the dialogue
+between Juliet and her parents, and in the scenes with the Nurse, we
+seem to have before us the whole of her previous education and habits:
+we see her, on the one hand, kept in severe subjection by her austere
+parents; and, on the other, fondled and spoiled by a foolish old
+nurse--a situation perfectly accordant with the manners of the time.
+Then Lady Capulet comes sweeping by with her train of velvet, her black
+hood, her fan, and rosary--the very beau-ideal of a proud Italian matron
+of the fifteenth century, whose offer to poison Romeo, in revenge for
+the death of Tybalt, stamps her with one very characteristic trait of
+the age and the country. Yet she loves her daughter, and there is a
+touch of remorseful tenderness in her lamentations over her, which adds
+to our impression of the timid softness of Juliet and the harsh
+subjection in which she has been kept."
+
+69. _Wash him from his grave_, etc. The hyperbole may remind us of the
+one in _Rich. II._ iii. 3. 166 fol.
+
+72. _Wit._ See on iii. 3. 122 above.
+
+73. _Feeling._ Heartfelt. Cf. "feeling sorrows" in _W.T._ iv. 2. 8 and
+_Lear_, iv. 6. 226.
+
+82. _Like he._ The inflections of pronouns are often confounded by S.
+
+84. _Ay, madam_, etc. Johnson remarks that "Juliet's equivocations are
+rather too artful for a mind disturbed by the loss of a new lover." To
+this Clarke well replies: "It appears to us that, on the contrary, the
+evasions of speech here used by the young girl-wife are precisely those
+that a mind, suddenly and sharply awakened from previous inactivity, by
+desperate love and grief, into self-conscious strength, would
+instinctively use. Especially are they exactly the sort of shifts and
+quibbles that a nature rendered timid by stinted intercourse with her
+kind, and by communion limited to the innocent confidences made by one
+of her age in the confessional, is prone to resort to, when first left
+to itself in difficulties of situation and abrupt encounter with life's
+perplexities."
+
+87. _In Mantua_, etc. No critic, so far as I am aware, has noted the
+slip of which S. is guilty here. Romeo is said to be _living_ in
+Mantua, but an hour has hardly elapsed since he started for that city;
+and how can the lady know of the plan for his going there which was
+secretly suggested by the friar the afternoon before?
+
+89. _Shall give._ The ellipsis of the relative is not uncommon.
+
+92. _I never shall be satisfied_, etc. Daniel remarks: "The several
+interpretations of which this ambiguous speech is capable are, I
+suppose: 1. I never shall be satisfied with Romeo; 2. I never shall be
+satisfied with Romeo till I behold him; 3. I never shall be satisfied
+with Romeo till I behold him dead; 4. Till I behold him, dead is my poor
+heart; 5. Dead is my poor heart, so for a kinsman vext."
+
+96. _Temper._ Compound, mix. Cf. _Ham._ v. 2. 339: "It is a poison
+temper'd by himself;" _Cymb._ v. 250: "To temper poisons for her," etc.
+
+97. _That._ So that; as often. _Receipt_ is not elsewhere applied by S.
+to the _receiving_ of food or drink, though it is used of _what is
+received_ in _R. of L._ 703 and _Cor._ i. 1. 116.
+
+100. _Cousin._ Some editors add "Tybalt" (from 2d folio) to fill out the
+measure.
+
+104. _Needy._ Joyless. The word is = needful in _Per._ i. 4. 95: "needy
+bread."
+
+105. _They._ S. makes _tidings_, like _news_ (cf. ii. 5. 22 with ii. 5.
+35), either singular or plural. Cf. _J.C._ iv. 3. 155: "That tidings;"
+_Id._ v. 3. 54: "These tidings," etc.
+
+108. _Sorted out._ Cf. _1. Hen. VI._ ii. 3. 27: "I'll sort some other
+time to visit you," etc.
+
+109. _Nor I look'd not._ See on iii. 5. 21 above.
+
+110. _In happy time._ Schmidt explains this as here = "_à propos_, pray
+tell me." Elsewhere it is = just in time; as in _A.W._ v. 1. 6, _Ham._
+v. 2. 214, _Oth._ iii. 1. 32, etc.
+
+113. _County._ See on i. 3. 83 above.
+
+120. _I swear._ Collier thinks these words "hardly consistent with
+Juliet's character;" but, as Ulrici remarks, "they seem necessary in
+order to show her violent excitement, and thereby explain her conduct."
+They appear to crowd the measure, but possibly "I will not marry yet"
+("I'll not marry yet") may count only as two feet.
+
+122. _These are news._ See on 105 above.
+
+125. _The air._ The reading of the 4th and 5th quartos; the other early
+eds. have "the earth," which is adopted by many editors. Hudson remarks:
+"This is scientifically true; poetically, it would seem better to read
+_air_ instead of _earth_." It happens, however, that science and poetry
+agree here; for it is the watery vapour in the _air_ that is condensed
+into dew. Malone, who also says that the reading _earth_ is
+"philosophically true," cites _R. of L._ 1226: "But as the earth doth
+weep, the sun being set;" but this only means that the earth is wet with
+dew. To speak of the earth as _drizzling_ dew is nonsense; we might as
+well say that it "drizzles rain" (_Much Ado_, iii. 3. 111). Elsewhere S.
+refers to the "falling" dew; as in _K. John_, ii. 1. 285, _Hen. VIII._
+i. 3. 57, _Cymb._ v. 5. 351, etc.
+
+128. _Conduit._ Probably alluding to the human figures that spouted
+water in fountains. Cf. _R. of L._ 1234:--
+
+ "A pretty while these pretty creatures stand,
+ Like ivory conduits coral cisterns filling."
+
+See also _W.T._ v. 2. 60.
+
+129-136. _Evermore ... body._ This long-drawn "conceit" is evidently
+from the first draught of the play.
+
+134. _Who._ See on i. 1. 109 above.
+
+138. _She will none._ Cf. _M.N.D._ iii. 2. 169: "Lysander, keep thy
+Hermia; I will none," etc.
+
+140. _Take me with you._ Let me understand you. Cf. _1 Hen. IV._ ii. 4.
+506: "I would your grace would take me with you; whom means your grace?"
+
+143. _Wrought._ "Not = induced, prevailed upon, but brought about,
+effected" (Schmidt). Cf. _Henry VIII._ iii. 2. 311: "You wrought to be a
+delegate;" _Cor._ ii. 3. 254: "wrought To be set high in place," etc.
+
+144. _Bridegroom._ The 2d quarto has "Bride." This was used of both
+sexes in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, but S. never makes it
+masculine. _The New Eng. Dict._ quotes Sylvester, _Du Bartas_ (1598):
+"Daughter dear ... Isis bless thee and thy Bride," etc.
+
+148. _Chop-logic._ Sophist; used by S. only here.
+
+150. _Minion._ Originally = favourite, darling (as in _Temp._ iv. 1. 98,
+_Macb._ i. 2. 19, etc.), then a spoiled favourite, and hence a pert or
+saucy person.
+
+151. _Thank me no thankings_, etc. Cf. _Rich. II._ ii. 3. 87: "Grace me
+no grace, nor uncle me no uncle," etc.
+
+152. _Fettle._ Prepare, make ready. It is the reading of the quartos and
+1st folio; the later folios have "settle," which may be what S. wrote.
+He does not use _fettle_ elsewhere, and the long _s_ and _f_ were easily
+confounded in printing.
+
+155. _Out_, etc. "Such was the indelicacy of the age of S. that authors
+were not contented only to employ these terms of abuse in their own
+original performances, but even felt no reluctance to introduce them in
+their versions of the most chaste and elegant of the Greek or Roman
+poets. Stanyhurst, the translator of Virgil, in 1582, makes Dido call
+Æneas _hedge-brat_, _cullion_, and _tar-breech_ in the course of one
+speech. Nay, in the interlude of _The Repentance of Mary Magdalene_,
+1567, Mary Magdalene says to one of her attendants, '_Horeson_, I
+beshrowe your heart, are you here?'" (Steevens).
+
+164. _Lent._ The 1st quarto has "sent," which some editors adopt. Clarke
+thinks it may be a misprint for "left," as Capulet (i. 2. 14) speaks as
+if he had had other children; but S. is careless in these minor matters.
+See on i. 5. 30 and v. 3. 207.
+
+167. _Hilding._ See on ii. 4. 43 above.
+
+171. _God ye god-den._ See on i. 2. 57 above.
+
+172. _Peace._ Theobald repeated the word for the sake of the measure.
+_Peace_ may perhaps be metrically a dissyllable, as in _A.Y.L._ ii. 4.
+70.
+
+175-177. _God's bread!_ etc. The text of the early eds. is evidently
+corrupt here. The reading in the text is Malone's, and perhaps gives
+very nearly what S. wrote on the revision of the play.
+
+181. _Stuff'd_, etc. Cf. _Much Ado_, i. 1. 56: "stuffed with all
+honourable virtues," etc. For _parts_, cf. iii. 3. 2 above.
+
+184. _Mammet._ Puppet, doll. Cf. _1 Hen. IV._ ii. 3. 95: "To play with
+mammets." The word is also written _mawmet_, and is a contraction of
+_Mahomet_. _In her fortune's tender_ = when good fortune presents
+itself. Cf. iii. 4. 12 above.
+
+189. _Use._ See on ii. chor. 10 above.
+
+190. _Lay hand on heart, advise._ Consider it seriously. Cf. Brooke's
+poem:--
+
+ "Aduise thee well, and say that thou art warned now,
+ And thinke not that I speake in sporte, or mynd to breake my vowe."
+
+198. _Sweet my mother._ Cf. iii. 2. 98: "Ah, poor my lord," etc.
+
+209. _Should practise stratagems_, etc. Should, as it were, entrap me
+into so painful and perplexing a situation. Schmidt makes _stratagem_
+sometimes = "anything amazing and appalling," and cites this passage as
+an instance.
+
+212. _Faith, here 'tis_, etc. S. here follows Brooke:--
+
+ "She setteth foorth at large the fathers furious rage,
+ And eke she prayseth much to her the second mariage;
+ And County Paris now she praiseth ten times more,
+ By wrong, then she her selfe by right had Romeus praysde before," etc.
+
+Mrs. Jameson remarks: "The old woman, true to her vocation, and fearful
+lest her share in these events should be discovered, counsels her to
+forget Romeo and marry Paris; and the moment which unveils to Juliet the
+weakness and baseness of her confidante is the moment which reveals her
+to herself. She does not break into upbraidings; it is no moment for
+anger; it is incredulous amazement, succeeded by the extremity of scorn
+and abhorrence, which takes possession of her mind. She assumes at once
+and asserts all her own superiority, and rises to majesty in the
+strength of her despair."
+
+220. _Green._ We have green eyes again in _M.N.D._ v. 1. 342: "His eyes
+were green as leeks." Cf. _The Two Noble Kinsmen_, v. 1: "With that rare
+green eye." Clarke remarks: "The brilliant touch of green visible in
+very light hazel eyes, and which gives wonderful clearness and animation
+to their look, has been admiringly denoted by various poets from time
+immemorial." In a sonnet by Drummond of Hawthornden, the gods are
+represented as debating of what colour a beauty's eyes shall be. Mars
+and Apollo vote for black:--
+
+ "Chaste Phœbe spake for purest azure dyes,
+ But Jove and Venus green about the light,
+ To frame thought best, as bringing most delight,
+ That to pin'd hearts hope might for aye arise."
+
+Cf. Longfellow, _The Spanish Student_: "Ay, soft emerald eyes;" and
+again:--
+
+ "in her tender eyes
+ Just that soft shade of green we sometimes see
+ In evening skies."
+
+In a note on the former passage, the poet says: "The Spaniards, with
+good reason, consider this colour of the eyes as beautiful, and
+celebrate it in song.... Dante speaks of Beatrice's eyes as emeralds
+(_Purgat._ xxxi. 116). Lami says in his _Annotazioni_, 'Erano i suoi
+occhi d' un turchino verdiccio, simile a quel del mare.'"
+
+221. _Beshrew._ See on ii. 5. 52 above.
+
+225. _Here._ Not referring to Verona, but = "in this world" (Johnson).
+
+233. _Ancient damnation._ The abstract for the concrete, explained by
+what follows. Steevens cites _The Malcontent_, 1604: "out, you ancient
+damnation!"
+
+234. _Is it more sin_, etc. Mrs. Jameson remarks: "It appears to me an
+admirable touch of nature, considering the master-passion which, at this
+moment, rules in Juliet's soul, that she is as much shocked by the
+nurse's dispraise of her lover as by her wicked, time-serving advice.
+This scene is the crisis in the character; and henceforth we see Juliet
+assume a new aspect. The fond, impatient, timid girl puts on the wife
+and the woman: she has learned heroism from suffering, and subtlety from
+oppression. It is idle to criticise her dissembling submission to her
+father and mother; a higher duty has taken place of that which she owed
+to them; a more sacred tie has severed all others. Her parents are
+pictured as they are, that no feeling for them may interfere in the
+slightest degree with our sympathy for the lovers. In the mind of Juliet
+there is no struggle between her filial and her conjugal duties, and
+there ought to be none."
+
+236. _Compare._ See on ii. 5. 43 above.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+
+SCENE I.--3. _And I am nothing slow to slack his haste._ Paris here
+seems to say the opposite of what he evidently means, and various
+attempts have been made to explain away the inconsistency. It appears to
+be one of the peculiar cases of "double negative" discussed by Schmidt
+in his Appendix, p. 1420, though he does not give it there. "The idea of
+negation was so strong in the poet's mind that he expressed it in more
+than one place, unmindful of his canon that 'your four negatives make
+your two affirmatives.'" Cf. _Lear_, ii. 4. 142:--
+
+ "You less know how to value her desert
+ Than she to scant ["slack" in quartos] her duty;"
+
+that is, you are more inclined to depreciate her than she to scant her
+duty.
+
+5. _Uneven._ Indirect. Cf. the use of _even_ in _Ham._ ii. 2. 298: "be
+even and direct with me," etc. Sometimes the word is = perplexing,
+embarrassing; as in _1 Hen. IV._ i. 1. 50: "uneven and unwelcome news,"
+etc.
+
+11. _Marriage._ A trisyllable here; as in _M. of V._ ii. 9. 13, etc. So
+also in the quotation from Brooke in note on iii. 5. 212 above.
+
+13. _Alone._ When alone; opposed to _society_ below.
+
+16. _Slow'd._ The only instance of the verb in S.
+
+18-36. This part of the scene evidently came from the first draft of the
+play.
+
+20. _That may be must be._ That _may be_ of yours must be.
+
+29. _Abus'd._ Marred, disfigured.
+
+31. _Spite._ Cf. i. 5. 64 above.
+
+38. _Evening mass._ Ritson and others say that Juliet means _vespers_,
+as there is no such thing as _evening mass_; and Staunton expresses
+surprise that S. has fallen into this error, since he elsewhere shows a
+familiarity with the usages of the Roman Catholic Church. It is the
+critics who are in error, not S. Walafrid Strabo (_De Rebus Eccles._
+xxiii.) says that, while the time for mass is regularly before noon, it
+is sometimes celebrated in the evening ("aliquando _ad vesperam_").
+Amalarius, Bishop of Trèves (_De Eccles. Off._ iv. 40), specifies Lent
+as the season for this hour. The _Generales Rubricæ_ allow this at other
+times in the year. In Winkles's _French Cathedrals_, we are told that,
+on the occasion of the marriage of Henrietta of France, daughter of
+Henry IV., with the Duke of Chevreuse, as proxy for Charles I. of
+England, celebrated in Notre Dame at Paris, May 11, 1625, "mass was
+celebrated in the evening." See _Notes and Queries_ for April 29 and
+June 3, 1876; also M'Clintock and Strong's _Biblical Cyclopædia_, under
+_Mass._
+
+40. _We must entreat_, etc. We must beg you to leave us to ourselves.
+Cf. _Hen. VIII._ i. 4. 71:--
+
+ "Crave leave to view these ladies and entreat
+ An hour of revels with them."
+
+41. _God shield._ God forbid. Cf. _A.W._ i. 3. 74: "God shield you mean
+it not." So "Heaven shield," in _M. for M._ iii. 1. 141, etc. _Devotion_
+is here a quadrisyllable.
+
+45. _Past cure_, etc. Cf. _L. L. L._ v. 2. 28: "past cure is still past
+care."
+
+48. _Prorogue._ See on ii. 2. 78 above.
+
+54. _This knife._ It was the custom of the time in Italy as in Spain for
+ladies to wear daggers at their girdles.
+
+57. _The label._ The seal appended by a slip to a deed, according to the
+custom of the day. In _Rich. II._ v. 2. 56, the Duke of York discovers,
+by the depending seal, a covenant which his son has made with the
+conspirators. In _Cymb._ v. 5. 430, _label_ is used for the deed itself.
+
+62. _Extremes._ Extremities, sufferings. Cf. _R. of L._ 969:--
+
+ "Devise extremes beyond extremity,
+ To make him curse this cursed crimeful night."
+
+The meaning of the passage is, "This knife shall decide the struggle
+between me and my distresses" (Johnson).
+
+64. _Commission._ Warrant, authority. Cf. _A.W._ ii. 3. 279: "you are
+more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the commission of
+your birth and virtue gives you heraldry."
+
+66. _Be not so long to speak._ So slow to speak. Clarke remarks here:
+"The constraint, with sparing speech, visible in Juliet when with her
+parents, as contrasted with her free outpouring flow of words when she
+is with her lover, her father confessor, or her nurse--when, in short,
+she is her natural self and at perfect ease--is true to characteristic
+delineation. The young girl, the very young girl, the girl brought up as
+Juliet has been reared, the youthful Southern maiden, lives and breathes
+in every line by which S. has set her before us."
+
+78. _Yonder._ Ulrici "cannot perceive why Juliet must designate a
+particular, actual tower, since all that follows is purely imaginary;"
+but to me the reference to a tower in sight seems both forcible and
+natural, and the transition to imaginary ordeals is equally natural.
+
+83. _Reeky._ Reeking with foul vapours, or simply = foul, as if soiled
+with smoke or _reek_. Cf. _reechy_ (another form of the same word) in
+_Much Ado_, iii. 3. 143, _Ham._ iii. 4. 184, etc.
+
+93. _Take thou this vial_, etc. Cf. Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "Receiue this vyoll small and keepe it as thine eye;
+ And on the mariage day, before the sunne doe cleare the skye,
+ Fill it with water full vp to the very brim,
+ Then drinke it of, and thou shalt feele throughout eche vayne and lim
+ A pleasant slumber slide, and quite dispred at length
+ On all thy partes, from euery part reue all thy kindly strength;
+ Withouten mouing thus thy ydle parts shall rest,
+ No pulse shall goe, ne hart once beate within thy hollow brest,
+ But thou shalt lye as she that dyeth in a traunce:
+ Thy kinsmen and thy trusty frendes shall wayle the sodain chaunce;
+ The corps then will they bring to graue in this church yarde,
+ Where thy forefathers long agoe a costly tombe preparde,
+ Both for them selfe and eke for those that should come after,[7]
+ Both deepe it is, and long and large, where thou shalt rest, my daughter,
+ Till I to Mantua sende for Romeus, thy knight;
+ Out of the tombe both he and I will take thee forth that night."
+
+97. _Surcease._ Cf. _R. of L._ 1766: "If they surcease to be that should
+survive;" and _Cor._ iii. 2. 121: "Lest I surcease to honour mine own
+truth." For the noun, see _Macb._ i. 7. 74.
+
+100. _Paly._ Cf. _Hen. V._ iv. chor. 8: "paly flames;" and 2 _Hen. VI._
+iii. 2. 141: "his paly lips."
+
+105. _Two and forty hours._ It is difficult to make this period agree
+with the time of the events that follow. Maginn would read "two and
+fifty hours;" and "two and thirty" has been suggested, which is more in
+accordance with the dates given in the play. In iv. 1. 90 the Friar says
+to Juliet:--
+
+ "_Wednesday_ is to-morrow:
+ To-morrow night look that thou lie alone," etc.
+
+[Footnote 7: For the rhyme of _after_ and _daughter_, cf. _T. of S._ i.
+1. 245, 246, _W.T._ iv. 1. 27, 28, and _Lear_, i. 4. 341, 344.]
+
+This agrees with the preceding dates. The conversation in iii. 4 is late
+on Monday evening (cf. lines 5 and 18), and Lady Capulet's talk with
+Juliet about marrying Paris (iii. 5. 67 fol.) is early the next
+(Tuesday) morning. The visit to the Friar is evidently on the same day;
+and the next scene (iv. 2) is in the evening of that day. Juliet comes
+home and tells her father that she has been to the Friar's, and is ready
+to marry Paris. The old man at once decides to have the wedding
+"to-morrow morning" (that is, Wednesday) instead of Thursday. Lady
+Capulet objects, but finally yields to her husband's persistency; and so
+Juliet goes to her chamber, and drinks the potion on _Tuesday_ evening,
+or twenty-four hours earlier than the Friar had directed. He of course
+is notified of the change in the time for the wedding, as he is to
+perform the ceremony, and will understand that Juliet has anticipated
+the time of taking the potion, and that she will wake on _Thursday_
+morning instead of Friday. If so, instead of extending the "two and
+forty hours," as Maginn does, we need rather to shorten the interval. We
+may suppose the time of v. 3 to be as early as three o'clock in the
+morning. It is summer, and before daylight. Paris and Romeo come with
+torches, and the Friar with a lantern. Romeo tells his servant to
+deliver the letter to his father "early in the morning." The night
+watchmen are still on duty. Since we can hardly send Juliet to bed
+before nine in the evening on Tuesday, _thirty_ hours is the most that
+can be allowed for the interval, unless we add another day and accept
+the fifty-two of Maginn. But this does not seem required by anything in
+act v.--not even by the "two days buried" of v. 3. 176, for Thursday
+would be the second day that she had lain in the tomb. The marriage was
+to be early on Wednesday morning, and the funeral took its place.
+Balthasar "presently took post" (v. 1. 21) to tell the news to Romeo at
+Mantua, less than twenty-five miles distant. He arrives before evening
+(cf. v. 1. 4: "all this day," which indicates the time), and Romeo at
+once says, "I will hence _to-night_." He has ample time to make his
+preparations and to reach Verona before two o'clock the next morning. He
+has been at the tomb only half an hour or so (v. 3. 130) before the
+Friar comes. It must have been near midnight (see v. 2. 23) when Friar
+John returned to Laurence's cell; so that, even if he had not been
+despatched to Mantua until that morning, he would have had time to go
+and return, but for his unexpected detention. I see no difficulty,
+therefore, in assuming that the drama closes on Thursday morning; the
+difficulty would be in prolonging the time to the next morning without
+making the action drag.
+
+110. _In thy best robes_, etc. The Italian custom here alluded to, of
+carrying the dead body to the grave richly dressed and with the face
+_uncovered_ (which is not mentioned by Paynter), S. found particularly
+described in _Romeus and Juliet_:--
+
+ "Now throughout Italy this common vse they haue,
+ That all the best of euery stocke are earthed in one graue;
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ An other vse there is, that whosoeuer dyes,
+ Borne to their church with open face vpon the beere he lyes,
+ In wonted weede attyrde, not wrapt in winding sheete."
+
+Cf. _Ham._ iv. 5. 164: "They bore him barefac'd on the bier." Knight
+remarks that thus the maids and matrons of Italy are still carried to
+the tomb; and he quotes Rogers, _Italy_:--
+
+ "And lying on her funeral couch,
+ Like one asleep, her eyelids closed, her hands
+ Folded together on her modest breast
+ As 'twere her nightly posture, through the crowd
+ She came at last--and richly, gaily clad,
+ As for a birthday feast."
+
+114. _Drift._ Scheme. Cf. ii. 3. 55 above.
+
+119. _Inconstant toy._ Fickle freak or caprice. Cf. _Ham._ i. 3. 5: "a
+fashion and a toy in blood;" _Id._ 1. 4. 75: "toys of desperation;"
+_Oth._ iii. 4. 156: "no jealous toy," etc. _Inconstant toy_ and
+_womanish fear_ are both from Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "Cast of from thee at once the weede of womannish dread,
+ With manly courage arme thy selfe from heele vnto the head;
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ God graunt he so confirme in thee thy present will,
+ That no inconstant toy thee let [hinder] thy promesse to fulfill."
+
+121. _Give me, give me!_ Cf. _Macb._ i. 3. 5: "'Give me,' quoth I."
+
+
+SCENE II.--2. _Twenty cunning cooks._ Ritson says: "Twenty cooks for
+half a dozen guests! Either Capulet has altered his mind strangely, or
+S. forgot what he had just made him tell us" (iii. 4. 27). But, as
+Knight remarks, "Capulet is evidently a man of ostentation; but his
+ostentation, as is most generally the case, is covered with a thin veil
+of indifference." Cf. i. 5. 124: "We have a trifling foolish banquet
+towards."
+
+According to an entry in the books of the Stationers' Company for 1560,
+the preacher was paid six shillings and twopence for his labour; the
+minstrel, twelve shillings; and the cook, fifteen shillings. But, as Ben
+Jonson tells us, a master cook is--
+
+ "a man of men
+ For a professor; he designs, he draws,
+ He paints, he carves, he builds, he fortifies,
+ Makes citadels of curious fowl and fish.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ He is an architect, an engineer,
+ A soldier, a physician, a philosopher,
+ A general mathematician."
+
+6. _'Tis an ill cook_, etc. Cf. Puttenham, _Arte of English Poesie_,
+1589:--
+
+ "As the old cocke crowes so doeth the chick:
+ A bad cooke that cannot his owne fingers lick."
+
+14. _Harlotry._ S. uses the noun only in this concrete sense: literally
+in _Oth._ iv. 2. 239; and in a loose contemptuous way, as here (= silly
+wench), in 1 _Hen. IV._ iii. 1. 198: "a peevish, self-willed harlotry,
+one that no persuasion can do good upon." For _peevish_ = foolish,
+childish, cf. _A.Y.L._ iii. 5. 110, _M.W._ i. 4. 14, etc.
+
+17. _Learn'd me._ Taught myself, learned; not elsewhere used reflexively
+by S. Cf. iii. 2. 12 above.
+
+18. _In disobedient opposition._ This line has but two regular accents,
+the others being metrical. See p. 159 above. _Opposition_ has five
+syllables.
+
+26. _Becomed._ Becoming. Cf. "lean-look'd" = lean-looking in _Rich. II._
+ii. 4. 11, "well-spoken" in _Rich. III._ i. 3. 348, etc. We still say
+"well-behaved."
+
+33. _Closet._ Chamber; as in _Ham._ ii. 1. 77, iii. 2. 344, iii. 3. 27,
+etc. Cf. _Matthew_, vi. 6.
+
+34. _Sort._ Select. Cf. iii. 5. 108 above.
+
+38. _Short in our provision._ Very feminine and housewifely! Cf. _Lear_,
+ii. 4. 208:--
+
+ "I am now from home, and out of that provision
+ Which shall be needful for your entertainment."
+
+41. _Deck up her._ Such transpositions are not rare in S. The 1st quarto
+has "prepare up him" in 45 just below.
+
+
+SCENE III.--5. _Cross._ Perverse. Cf. _Hen. VIII._ iii. 2. 214:--
+
+ "what cross devil
+ Made me put this main secret in the packet
+ I sent the king?"
+
+8. _Behoveful._ Befitting; used by S. nowhere else.
+
+15. _Thrills._ The ellipsis is somewhat peculiar from the fact that the
+relative is expressed in the next line. We should expect "thrilling" or
+"And almost."
+
+23. _Lie thou there._ See on iv. 1. 54 above. Moreover, as Steevens
+notes, _knives_, or daggers, were part of the accoutrements of a bride.
+Cf. Dekker, _Match me in London_: "See at my girdle hang my wedding
+knives!" and _King Edward III._, 1599: "Here by my side do hang my
+wedding knives," etc. Dyce remarks that the omission of the word _knife_
+"is peculiarly awkward, as Juliet has been addressing the vial just
+before;" but S. wrote for the stage, where the action would make the
+reference perfectly clear.
+
+27. _Because he married me_, etc. A "female" line with two extra
+syllables; like v. 3. 256 below. See p. 158 above.
+
+29. _Tried._ Proved; as in _J.C._ iv. 1. 28, _Ham._ i. 3. 62, etc.
+
+34. _Healthsome._ Wholesome; used by S. only here.
+
+36. _Like._ Likely; as often.
+
+39. _As in a vault_, etc. _As_ is here = to wit, namely. Cf. _Ham._ i.
+4. 25, etc.
+
+Steevens thinks that this passage may have been suggested to S. by the
+ancient charnel-house (now removed) adjoining the chancel of Stratford
+church; but that was merely a receptacle for bones from old graves and
+disused tombs, while the reference here is to a family tomb still in
+regular use, where the body of Tybalt has just been deposited, and as
+Juliet knows that she also will be when supposed to be dead. S. was of
+course familiar with such tombs or _vaults_.
+
+_Receptacle._ For the accent on the first syllable, cf. _T.A._ i. 1. 92:
+"O sacred receptacle of my joys!" So also in _Per._ iv. 6. 186; the only
+other instance of the word in S.
+
+42. _Green._ Fresh, recent; as in _Ham._ i. 2. 2, etc.
+
+43. _Festering._ Corrupting; as in _Hen. V._ iv. 3. 88 and _Sonn._ 94.
+14.
+
+47. _Mandrakes'._ The plant _Atropa mandragora_ (cf. _Oth._ iii. 3. 130
+and _A. and C._ i. 5. 4, where it is called "mandragora"), the root of
+which was thought to resemble the human figure, and when torn from the
+earth to utter shrieks which drove those mad who heard them. Cf. 2 _Hen.
+VI._ iii. 2. 310: "Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groans,"
+etc. Coles, in his _Art of Simpling_, says that witches "take likewise
+the roots of mandrake, ... and make thereof an ugly image, by which they
+represent the person on whom they intend to exercise their witchcraft."
+The plant was of repute also in medicine, as a soporific (see the
+passages noted above in which it is called _mandragora_) and for sundry
+other purposes. Sir Thomas More observes that "Mandragora is an herbe,
+as phisycions saye, that causeth folke to slepe, and therein to have
+many mad fantastical dreames." How the root could be got without danger
+is explained by Bullein, in his _Bulwark of Defence against Sicknesse_,
+1575: "Therefore they did tye some dogge or other lyving beast unto the
+roote thereof wythe a corde, and digged the earth in compasse round
+about, and in the meane tyme stopped their own eares for feare of the
+terreble shriek and cry of this Mandrack. In whych cry it doth not only
+dye it selfe, but the feare thereof kylleth the dogge or beast which
+pulleth it out of the earth."
+
+49. _Distraught._ Distracted. S. uses the word again in _Rich. III._
+iii. 5. 4: "distraught and mad with terror." Elsewhere he has
+_distracted_ (as in _Temp._ v. i. 12, _Macb._ ii. 3. 110, etc.) or
+_distract_ (as in _J.C._ iv. 3. 155, _Ham._ iv. 5. 2, etc.). Spenser has
+_distraught_ often; as in _F.Q._ iv. 3. 48: "Thus whilest their minds
+were doubtfully distraught;" _Id._ iv. 7. 31: "His greedy throte,
+therewith in two distraught" (where it is = drawn apart, its original
+sense), etc.
+
+58. _Romeo, I come_, etc. The 1st quarto has here the stage-direction,
+"_She fals vpon her bed within the Curtaines_." The ancient stage was
+divided by curtains, called _traverses_, which were a substitute for
+sliding scenes. Juliet's bed was behind these curtains, and when they
+were closed in front of the bed the stage was supposed to represent the
+hall in Capulet's house for the next scene. When he summons the Nurse to
+call forth Juliet, she opens the curtains and the scene again becomes
+Juliet's chamber, where she is discovered apparently dead. After the
+lamentations over her, the 1st quarto gives the direction, "_They all
+but the Nurse goe foorth, casting Rosemary on her and shutting the
+Curtens_;" and then follows the scene with Peter and the Musicians. The
+stage had no movable painted scenery.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+SCENE IV.--2. _Pastry._ That is, the room where pastry was made. Cf.
+_pantry_ (Fr. _paneterie_, from _pain_), the place where bread is kept,
+etc. Staunton quotes _A Floorish upon Fancie_, 1582:--
+
+ "Now having seene all this, then shall you see hard by
+ The pastrie, mealehouse, and the roome whereas the coales do ly."
+
+S. uses _pastry_ only here. For the double meaning of the word, cf.
+_spicery_ (Fr. _épicerie_), which was used both for the material (_Rich.
+III._ iv. 4. 424) and the place where it was kept.
+
+4. _Curfew-bell._ As the curfew was rung in the evening, the only way to
+explain this is to assume that it means "the bell ordinarily used for
+that purpose" (Schmidt). In the three other instances in which S. has
+the word (_Temp._ v. 1. 40, _M. for M._ iv. 2. 78, _Lear_, iii. 4. 121),
+it is used correctly.
+
+5. _Bak'd meats._ Pastry. S. uses the term only here and in _Ham._ i. 2.
+180. Nares says that it formerly meant "a meat pie, or perhaps any other
+pie." He cites Cotgrave, who defines _pastisserie_ as "all kind of pies
+or bak'd meats;" and Sherwood (English supplement to Cotgrave), who
+renders "bak'd meats" by _pastisserie_. Cf. _The White Devil:_--
+
+ "You speak as if a man
+ Should know what fowl is coffin'd in a bak'd meat
+ Afore it is cut up;"
+
+that is, what fowl is under the crust of the pie. _Good Angelica_
+perhaps means Lady Capulet, not the Nurse; and, as Dowden suggests,
+_Spare not the cost_ seems more appropriate to the former. It may,
+however, be the Nurse, who here seems to be treated as a kitchen
+servant--perhaps to avoid the introduction of another character.
+
+6. _Go, you cot-quean_, etc. Several editors give this speech to Lady
+Capulet; on the ground that the Nurse is not present, having been sent
+for spices. It has also been suggested that a servant would not venture
+to be so impudent to her master; but, as we have seen, the Nurse is an
+old and petted servant who is allowed a good deal of liberty. For the
+same reason she may not have gone for the spices at once, but may have
+lingered, gossip-like, to hear what Capulet had to say. A _cot-quean_ is
+a man who meddles with female affairs; used by S. only here.
+
+11. _Mouse-hunt._ A woman-hunter. For _mouse_ as a term of endearment,
+see _Ham._ iii. 4. 183, _L. L. L._ v. 2. 19, and _T.N._ i. 5. 69.
+
+13. _Jealous-hood._ Jealousy; the abstract for the concrete; used by S.
+only here.
+
+16. _Drier logs._ For the kitchen; not a slip like that in i. 5. 30.
+
+21. _Logger-head._ Blockhead. Cf. _L. L. L._ iv. 3. 204: "Ah, you whoreson
+loggerhead!" So _logger-headed_; as in _T. of S._ iv. 1. 128: "You
+logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms!"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+SCENE V.--3. _Sweet-heart._ Accented on the last syllable; as regularly
+in S. (cf. _Hen. VIII._ i. 4. 94, etc.) except in _W. T._ iv. 4. 664:
+"take your sweet-heart's hat." Schmidt would print it as two words (as
+is common in the old eds.) except in this latter passage.
+
+28. _Will not let me speak._ Malone remarks: "S. has here followed the
+poem closely, without recollecting that he had made Capulet, in this
+scene, clamorous in his grief. In _Romeus and Juliet_, Juliet's mother
+makes a long speech, but the old man utters not a word:--
+
+ "'But more then all the rest the fathers hart was so
+ Smit with the heauy newes, and so shut vp with sodain woe,
+ That he ne had the powre his daughter to bewepe,
+ Ne yet to speake, but long is forsd his teares and plaint to kepe.'"
+
+The poem may have suggested Capulet's speech; but S. is not at fault in
+making him afterwards find his tongue and become "clamorous in his
+grief." That was perfectly natural.
+
+36. _Life, living._ There is no necessity for emendation, as some have
+supposed. _Living is_ = means of living, possessions; as in _M. of V._
+v. 1. 286: "you have given me life and living," etc.
+
+37. _Thought._ Expected, hoped; as in _Much Ado_, ii. 3. 236, etc.
+
+41. _Labour._ Referring to the toilsome progress of time, as in _T. of
+A._ iii. 4. 8 (Delius).
+
+44. _Catch'd._ Also used for the participle in _L. L. L._ v. 2. 69 and
+_A. W._ i. 3. 176; and for the past tense in _Cor._ i. 3. 68. Elsewhere
+S. has _caught_.
+
+45. _O woe!_ White thinks that in "this speech of mock heroic woe" S.
+ridicules the translation of Seneca's _Tragedies_ (1581); but it is in
+keeping with the character. Probably this and the next two speeches
+belong to the early draft of the play, with much that precedes and
+follows.
+
+52. _Detestable._ For the accent on the first syllable (as always in
+S.), cf. _K. John_, iii. 4. 29, _T. of A._ iv. 1. 33, and v. 3. 45
+below.
+
+55. _Despis'd, distressed_, etc. In this line, as in 51, note the
+mixture of contracted and uncontracted participles.
+
+56. _Uncomfortable._ Cheerless, joyless; the one instance of the word in
+S.
+
+60. _Buried._ A trisyllable here; as in v. 3. 176 below.
+
+61. _Confusion's._ Here, the word is = ruin, death; but in the next line
+it is = confused lamentations. Cf. _R. of L._ 445: "fright her with
+confusion of their cries."
+
+66. _His._ Its. _Heaven_ is not personified here.
+
+67. _Promotion._ A quadrisyllable here.
+
+72. _Well._ Often thus used of the dead. Cf. _W.T._ v. 1. 30, 2 _Hen.
+IV._ v. 2. 3, _Macb._ iv. 3. 179, _A. and C._ ii. 5. 33, etc. See also
+v. 1. 17 below.
+
+75. _Rosemary._ That is, the rosemary that had been brought for the
+wedding; for it was used at both weddings and funerals. Cf. Herrick,
+_The Rosemarie Branch:_--
+
+ "Grow for two ends, it matters not at all,
+ Be 't for my bridall or my buriall;"
+
+and Dekker, _Wonderful Year_: "The rosemary that was washed in sweet
+water to set out the bridal, is now wet in tears to furnish her burial."
+Cf. ii. 4. 198 above.
+
+76. _As the custom is._ See on iv. 1. 110 above.
+
+78. _Fond._ Foolish (cf. iii. 3. 52 above), as opposed to _reason_.
+
+80. _All things_, etc. Cf. Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "Now is the parentes myrth quite chaunged into mone,
+ And now to sorrow is retornde the ioy of euery one;
+ And now the wedding weedes for mourning weedes they chaunge,
+ And Hymene into a Dyrge; alas! it seemeth straunge:
+ In steade of mariage gloues, now funerall gloues they haue,
+ And whom they should see maried, they follow to the graue.
+ The feast that should haue been of pleasure and of ioy
+ Hath euery dish and cup fild full of sorow and annoye."
+
+95. _Case._ There is a play upon the other sense of the word (a case for
+a musical instrument); as in _W.T._ iv. 4. 844: "but though my case be a
+pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it" (that is, out of my
+skin).
+
+96. _Enter Peter._ From the quartos we learn that William Kempe played
+the part of Peter, as he did that of Dogberry in _Much Ado_.
+
+In explanation of the introduction of this part of the scene, Knight
+remarks: "It was the custom of our ancient theatre to introduce, in the
+irregular pauses of a play that stood in place of a division into acts,
+some short diversions, such as a song, a dance, or the extempore
+buffoonery of a clown. At this point of _R. and J._ there is a natural
+pause in the action, and at this point such an interlude would probably
+have been presented, whether S. had written one or not.... Will Kempe
+was the Liston of his day, and was as great a popular favourite as
+Tarleton had been before him. It was wise, therefore, in S. to find some
+business for Will Kempe that should not be entirely out of harmony with
+the great business of his play. The scene of the musicians is very
+short, and, regarded as a necessary part of the routine of the ancient
+stage, is excellently managed. Nothing can be more naturally exhibited
+than the indifference of hirelings, without attachment, to a family
+scene of grief. Peter and the musicians bandy jokes; and though the
+musicians think Peter a 'pestilent knave,' perhaps for his inopportune
+sallies, they are ready enough to look after their own gratification,
+even amidst the sorrow which they see around them. A wedding or a burial
+is the same to them. 'Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and
+stay dinner.' So S. read the course of the world--and it is not much
+changed."
+
+"To our minds," says Clarke, "the intention was to show how grief and
+gayety, pathos and absurdity, sorrow and jesting, elbow each other in
+life's crowd; how the calamities of existence fall heavily upon the
+souls of some, while others, standing close beside the grievers, feel no
+jot of suffering or sympathy. Far from the want of harmony that has been
+found here, we feel it to be one of those passing discords that produce
+richest and fullest effect of harmonious contrivance."
+
+Furness states that in Edwin Booth's acting copy this scene of Peter and
+the musicians is transposed to i. 5. 17 above.
+
+99. _Heart's ease._ A popular tune of the time, mentioned in
+_Misogonus_, a play by Thomas Rychardes, written before 1570.
+
+101. _My heart is full of woe._ The burden of the first stanza of _A
+Pleasant new Ballad of Two Lovers_: "Hey hoe! my heart is full of woe"
+(Steevens).
+
+102. _Dump._ A mournful or plaintive song or melody. Calling it _merry_
+is a joke of Peter's. Cf. _T.G. of V._ iii. 2. 85: "A deploring dump."
+See also _R. of L._ 1127.
+
+109. _Gleek._ Scoff. Cf. 1 _Hen. VI._ iii. 2. 123: "Now where's the
+Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks?" _To give the gleek_ was "to
+pass a jest upon, to make a person ridiculous." It is impossible to say
+what is the joke in _give you the minstrel_. Some suppose that _gleek_
+suggests _gleeman_, one form of which in Anglo-Saxon was _gligman_, but
+no such form is found in English, if we may trust the _New Eng. Dict._
+The reply of the musician may perhaps mean "that he will retort by
+calling Peter the servant to the minstrel" (White).
+
+114. _I will carry no crotchets._ I will bear none of your whims; with a
+play on _crotchets_, as in _Much Ado_, ii. 3. 58. Cf. _carry coals_ in
+i. 1. 1 above. The play on _note_ is obvious.
+
+120. _Drybeat._ See on iii. 1. 81 above. For _have at you_, cf. i. 1. 64
+above.
+
+122. _When griping grief_, etc. From a poem by Richard Edwards, in the
+_Paradise of Daintie Devises_. See also Percy's _Reliques_.
+
+126. _Catling._ A small string of _catgut_. Cf. _T. and C._ iii. 3. 306:
+"unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on."
+
+132. _Pretty._ Some of the German critics are troubled by _pretty_,
+because Peter does not intend to praise; and irony, they say, would be
+out of place. It is simply a jocose patronizing expression = That's not
+bad in its way, but you haven't hit it. The _rebeck_ was a kind of
+three-stringed fiddle. Cf. Milton, _L'All._ 94: "And the jocund rebecks
+sound," etc.
+
+141. _Pestilent._ Often used in an opprobrious sense; as in _Lear_, i.
+4. 127: "A pestilent gall to me!" _Oth._ ii. 1. 252: "A pestilent
+complete knave," etc.
+
+142. _Jack._ See on iii. 1. 12 above; and for _stay_ = wait for, on ii.
+5. 36.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V
+
+
+SCENE. I.--1. _The flattering truth._ This is apparently = that which
+bears the flattering semblance of truth. It has perplexed some of the
+critics, but their emendations do not better it. For _flattering_ in the
+sense of illusive, cf. ii. 2. 141. Some have wondered that S. here makes
+the presentiment a hopeful one; but as a writer in the _Cornhill
+Magazine_ (October, 1866) remarks, the presentiment was true, but Romeo
+did not trust it. Had he done so, his fate would not have been so
+tragic.
+
+3. _My bosom's lord._ That is, my heart; not Love, or Cupid, as some
+would make it. Lines 3-5 seem to me only a highly poetical description
+of the strange new cheerfulness and hopefulness he feels--a reaction
+from his former depression which is like his dream of rising from the
+dead an emperor.
+
+10. _Ah me!_ See on _Ay me!_ ii. 1. 10 above. It may be a misprint for
+"Ay me!" here.
+
+12. _Balthasar._ Always accented by S. on the first syllable. The name
+occurs in _C. of E._, _Much Ado_, and _M. of V._
+
+17. _She is well._ See on iv. 5. 72 above.
+
+18. _Capel's._ The early eds. have "_Capels_"; the modern ones generally
+"Capels'." The singular seems better here, on account of the omission of
+the article; but the plural in v. 3. 127: "the Capels' monument." S.
+uses this abbreviation only twice. Brooke uses _Capel_ and _Capulet_
+indiscriminately. See quotation in note on i. 1. 28 above.
+
+21. _Presently._ Immediately; the usual meaning in S. Cf. iv. 1. 54 and
+95 above.
+
+27. _Patience._ A trisyllable, as in v. 3. 221 and 261 below.
+
+29. _Misadventure._ Mischance, misfortune; used by S. only here and in
+v. 3. 188 below. _Misadventured_ occurs only in prol. 7 above.
+
+36. _In._ Into; as often. Cf. v. 3. 34 below.
+
+37. _I do remember_, etc. Joseph Warton objects to the detailed
+description here as "improperly put into the mouth of a person agitated
+with such passion." "But," as Knight remarks, "the mind once made up, it
+took a perverse pleasure in going over every circumstance that had
+suggested the means of mischief. All other thoughts had passed out of
+Romeo's mind. He had nothing left but to die; and everything connected
+with the means of death was seized upon by his imagination with an
+energy that could only find relief in words. S. has exhibited the same
+knowledge of nature in his sad and solemn poem of _R. of L._, where the
+injured wife, having resolved to wipe out her stain by death,
+
+ "'calls to mind where hangs a piece
+ Of skilful painting, made for Priam's Troy.'
+
+She sees in that painting some fancied resemblance to her own position,
+and spends the heavy hours till her husband arrives in its
+contemplation." See _R. of L._ 1366 fol. and 1496 fol.
+
+39. _Overwhelming._ Overhanging. Cf. _V. and A._ 183: "His lowering
+brows o'erwhelming his fair sight." See also _Hen. V._ iii. 1. 11. For
+_weeds_ = garments, see _M.N.D._ ii. 2. 71, etc.
+
+40. _Simples._ Medicinal herbs. Cf. _R. of L._ 530, _Ham._ iv. 7. 145,
+etc.
+
+43. _An alligator stuff'd._ This was a regular part of the furniture of
+an apothecary's shop in the time of S. Nash, in his _Have With You_,
+etc., 1596, refers to "an apothecary's crocodile or dried alligator."
+Steevens says that he has met with the alligator, tortoise, etc.,
+hanging up in the shop of an ancient apothecary at Limehouse, as well as
+in places more remote from the metropolis. In Dutch art, as Fairholt
+remarks, these marine monsters often appear in representations of
+apothecaries' shops.
+
+45. _A beggarly account_, etc. Cf. Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "And seeking long (alac too soone) the thing he sought, he founde.
+ An Apothecary sate vnbusied at his doore,
+ Whom by his heauy countenaunce he gessed to be poore.
+ And in his shop he saw his boxes were but fewe,
+ And in his window (of his wares) there was so small a shew,
+ Wherfore our Romeus assuredly hath thought,
+ What by no frendship could be got, with money should be bought;
+ For nedy lacke is lyke the poore man to compell
+ To sell that which the cities lawe forbiddeth him to sell.
+ Then by the hand he drew the nedy man apart,
+ And with the sight of glittring gold inflamed hath his hart:
+ Take fiftie crownes of gold (quoth he) I geue them thee.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ Fayre syr (quoth he) be sure this is the speeding gere,
+ And more there is then you shall nede for halfe of that is there
+ Will serue, I vnder take, in lesse than halfe an howre
+ To kill the strongest man aliue; such is the poysons power."
+
+51. _Present._ Immediate; as in iv. 1. 61 above. Cf. _presently_ in 21
+above. Secret poisoning became so common in Europe in the 16th century
+that laws against the sale of poisons were made in Spain, Portugal,
+Italy, and other countries. Knight says: "There is no such law in our
+own statute-book; and the circumstance is a remarkable exemplification
+of the difference between English and Continental manners." But that
+this practice of poisoning prevailed to a considerable extent in England
+in the olden time is evident from the fact that in the 21st year of the
+reign of Henry VIII. an act was passed declaring the employment of
+secret poisons to be high-treason, and sentencing those who were found
+guilty of it to be boiled to death.
+
+60. _Soon-speeding gear._ Quick-despatching stuff. Cf. the extract from
+Brooke just above. For _gear_, see ii. 4. 97 above.
+
+64. _As violently_, etc. See on ii. 6. 9 above.
+
+67. _Any he._ Cf. _A.Y.L._ iii. 2. 414: "that unfortunate he;" 3 _Hen.
+VI._ i. 1. 46: "The proudest he;" _Id._ ii. 2. 97: "Or any he the
+proudest of thy sort," etc. _Utters them_ = literally, sends them _out_,
+or lets them go from his possession; hence, sells them. Cf. _L. L. L._ ii.
+1. 16 and _W.T._ iv. 4. 330.
+
+70. _Starveth._ That is, look out hungrily; a bold but not
+un-Shakespearian expression, for which Otway's "stareth" (adopted by
+some editors) is a poor substitution. See on i. 1. 216 above; and for
+the inflection, on prol. 8.
+
+
+SCENE II.--4. _A barefoot brother._ Friars Laurence and John are
+evidently Franciscans. "In his kindness, his learning, and his
+inclination to mix with and, perhaps, control the affairs of the world,
+he [Laurence] is no unapt representative of this distinguished order in
+their best days" (Knight). Warton says that the Franciscans "managed the
+machines of every important operation and event, both in the religious
+and political world."
+
+Cf. Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "Apace our frier Iohn to Mantua him hyes;
+ And, for because in Italy it is a wonted gyse
+ That friers in the towne should seeldome walke alone,
+ But of theyr couent ay should be accompanide with one
+ Of his profession, straight a house he fyndeth out,
+ In mynde to take some frier with him, to walke the towne about."
+
+Each friar has a companion assigned him by the superior when he asks
+leave to go out; and thus they are a check upon each other (Steevens).
+
+6. _Associate me._ Accompany me. For the transitive use, cf. _T.A._ v.
+3. 169: "Friends should associate friends in grief and woe."
+
+9. _A house._ According to both the poem and the novel, this was the
+convent to which the "barefoot brother" belonged.
+
+16. _Infection._ A quadrisyllable. Cf, iv. 1. 41 above.
+
+18. _Nice._ Trifling, unimportant. See on iii. 1. 157 above. For
+_charge_, cf. _W.T._ iv. 4. 261: "I have about me many parcels of
+charge."
+
+19. _Dear._ Cf. v. 3. 32 below: "dear employment."
+
+20. _Do much danger._ See on iii. 3. 118 above.
+
+25. _This three hours._ The singular _this_ is often thus used; but cf.
+iv. 3. 40 above: "these many hundred years;" and v. 3. 176 below: "these
+two days."
+
+26. _Beshrew._ See on ii. 5. 52 above.
+
+
+SCENE III.--_A Churchyard_, etc. Hunter says: "It is clear that S., or
+some writer whom he followed, had in mind the churchyard of Saint Mary
+the Old in Verona, and the monument of the Scaligers which stood in it."
+See the cut on p. 136, and cf. Brooke, who refers to the Italian custom
+of building large family tombs:--
+
+ "For euery houshold, if it be of any fame;
+ Doth bylde a tombe, or digge a vault, that beares the housholdes name:
+ Wherein (if any of that kindred hap to dye)
+ They are bestowde; els in the same no other corps may lye.
+ The Capilets her corps in such a one dyd lay
+ Where Tybalt slaine of Romeus was layde the other day."
+
+At the close of the poem we are told that--
+
+ "The bodies dead, remoued from vaulte where they did dye,
+ In stately tombe, on pillers great of marble, rayse they hye.
+ On euery syde aboue were set, and eke beneath,
+ Great store of cunning Epitaphes, in honor of theyr death.
+ And euen at this day the tombe is to be seene;
+ So that among the monumentes that in Verona been,
+ There is no monument more worthy of the sight,
+ Then is the tombe of Iuliet and Romeus her knight."
+
+See also the quotation in note on iv. 1. 93 above. Brooke's reference to
+the "stately tombe, on pillers great," etc., was doubtless suggested by
+the Tomb of the Scaligers.
+
+3. _Lay thee all along._ That is, at full length. Cf. _A.Y.L._ ii. 1.
+30: "As he lay along Under an oak;" _J.C._ iii. 1. 115: "That now on
+Pompey's basis lies along," etc.
+
+6. _Unfirm._ Cf. _J.C._ i. 3. 4, _T.N._ ii. 4. 34, etc. S. also uses
+_infirm_, as in _Macb._ ii. 2. 52, etc.
+
+8. _Something._ The accent is on the last syllable, as Walker notes; and
+Marshall prints "some thing," as in the folio.
+
+11. _Adventure._ Cf. ii. 2. 84 above.
+
+14. _Sweet water._ Perfumed water. Cf. _T.A._ ii. 4. 6: "call for sweet
+water;" and see quotation in note on iv. 5. 75 above.
+
+20. _Cross._ Thwart, interfere with. Cf. iv. 5. 91 above.
+
+21. _Muffle._ Cover, hide. Cf. i. 1. 168 above; and see _J.C._ iii. 2.
+191, etc. Steevens intimates that it was "a low word" in his day; but,
+if so, it has since regained its poetical character. Tennyson uses it
+repeatedly; as in _The Talking Oak_: "O, muffle round thy knees with
+fern;" _The Princess_: "A full sea glazed with muffled moonlight;" _In
+Memoriam_: "muffled round with woe," etc. Milton has _unmuffle_ in
+_Comus_, 321: "Unmuffle, ye faint stars."
+
+32. _Dear._ See on v. 2. 19 above.
+
+33. _Jealous._ Suspicious; as in _Lear_, v. 1. 56, _J.C._ i. 2. 71, etc.
+
+34. _In._ Into. See on v. 1. 36 above.
+
+37. _Savage-wild._ Cf. ii. 2. 141 above.
+
+39. _Empty._ Hungry. Cf. _V. and A._ 55: "Even as an empty eagle, sharp
+by fast" (see also 2 _Hen. VI._ iii. 1. 248 and 3 _Hen. VI._ i. 1. 268);
+and _T. of S._ iv. 1. 193: "My falcon now is sharp and passing empty."
+
+44. _Doubt._ Distrust; as in _J.C._ ii. 1. 132, iv. 2. 13, etc.
+
+45. _Detestable._ See on iv. 5. 52 above.
+
+47. _Enforce._ Force; as often. Cf. _Temp._ v. 1. 100: "Enforce them to
+this place," etc.
+
+50. _With._ Often used to express the relation of cause.
+
+59. _Good gentle youth_, etc. "The gentleness of Romeo was shown before
+[iii. 1. 64 fol.] as softened by love, and now it is doubled by love and
+sorrow, and awe of the place where he is" (Coleridge).
+
+68. _Conjurations._ Solemn entreaties; as in _Rich. II._ iii. 2. 23,
+_Ham._ v. 2. 38, etc. Some have taken it to mean incantations. _Defy_ =
+refuse; as in _K. John_, iii. 4. 23: "I defy all counsel," etc.
+
+74. _Peruse._ Scan, examine. Cf. _Ham._ iv. 7. 137: "peruse the foils,"
+etc.
+
+76. _Betossed._ Agitated; used by S. nowhere else.
+
+82. _Sour._ See on iii. 3. 7 above.
+
+84. _Lantern._ Used in the architectural sense of "a turret full of
+windows" (Steevens). Cf. Parker, _Glossary of Architecture_: "In Gothic
+architecture the term is sometimes applied to _louvres_ on the roofs of
+halls, etc., but it usually signifies a tower which has the whole
+height, or a considerable portion of the interior, open to the ground,
+and is lighted by an upper tier of windows; lantern-towers of this kind
+are common over the centre of cross churches, as at York Minster, Ely
+Cathedral, etc. The same name is also given to the light open erections
+often placed on the top of towers, as at Boston, Lincolnshire," etc. The
+one at Boston was used as a lighthouse _lantern_ in the olden time.
+
+86. _Presence._ Presence-chamber, state apartment; as in _Rich. II._ i.
+3. 289 and _Hen. VIII._ iii. 1. 17.
+
+87. _Death._ The abstract for the concrete. The _dead man_ is Romeo, who
+is so possessed with his suicidal purpose that he speaks of himself as
+dead. Steevens perversely calls it one of "those miserable conceits with
+which our author too frequently counteracts his own pathos."
+
+88-120. _How oft when men_, etc. "Here, here, is the master example how
+beauty can at once increase and modify passion" (Coleridge).
+
+90. _A lightning before death._ "A last blazing-up of the flame of
+life;" a proverbial expression. Steevens quotes _The Downfall of Robert
+Earl of Huntington_, 1601:--
+
+ "I thought it was a lightning before death,
+ Too sudden to be certain."
+
+Clarke notes "the mingling here of words and images full of light and
+colour with the murky grey of the sepulchral vault and the darkness of
+the midnight churchyard, the blending of these images of beauty and
+tenderness with the deep gloom of the speaker's inmost heart."
+
+92. _Suck'd the honey_, etc. Cf. _Ham._ iii. 1. 164: "That suck'd the
+honey of his music vows." Steevens quotes Sidney, _Arcadia_: "Death
+being able to divide the soule, but not the beauty from her body."
+
+96. _Death's pale flag._ Steevens compares Daniel, _Complaint of
+Rosamond_:--
+
+ "And nought-respecting death (the last of paines)
+ Plac'd his pale colours (th' ensign of his might)
+ Upon his new-got spoil."
+
+97. _Tybalt_, etc. Cf. Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "Ah cosin dere, Tybalt, where so thy restles sprite now be,
+ With stretched handes to thee for mercy now I crye,
+ For that before thy kindly howre I forced thee to dye.
+ But if with quenched lyfe not quenched be thine yre,
+ But with revengeing lust as yet thy hart be set on fyre,
+ What more amendes, or cruell wreke desyrest thou
+ To see on me, then this which here is shewd forth to thee now?
+ Who reft by force of armies from thee thy living breath,
+ The same with his owne hand (thou seest) doth poyson himselfe to death."
+
+106. _Still._ Constantly, always; as very often. Cf. 270 below.
+
+110. _Set up my everlasting rest._ That is, remain forever. To _set up
+one's rest_ was a phrase taken from gaming, the _rest_ being the highest
+stake the parties were disposed to venture; hence it came to mean to
+have fully made up one's mind, to be resolved. Here the form of
+expression seems to be suggested by the gaming phrase rather than to be
+a figurative example of it.
+
+112-118. _Eyes ... bark._ Whiter points out a coincidence between this
+last speech of Romeo's and a former one (i. 4. 103 fol.) in which he
+anticipates his misfortunes. "The ideas drawn from the _stars_, the
+_law_, and the _sea_ succeed each other in both speeches, in the same
+order, though with a different application."
+
+115. _Dateless._ Limitless, eternal. Cf. _Sonn._ 30. 6: "death's
+dateless night;" _Rich. III._ i. 3. 151: "The dateless limit of thy dear
+exile," etc.
+
+_Engrossing._ Malone says that the word "seems here to be used in its
+clerical sense." There seems to be at least a hint of that sense,
+suggested by _seal_ and _bargain_; but the leading meaning is that of
+all-seizing, or "taking the whole," as Schmidt explains it.
+
+116. _Conduct._ See on iii. 1. 127 above. For _unsavoury_, cf. _V. and
+A._ 1138: "sweet beginning, but unsavoury end." Schmidt, who rarely
+makes such a slip, treats both of these examples as literal rather than
+metaphorical. The only example of the former sense in S. (not really
+his) is _Per._ ii. 3. 31: "All viands that I eat do seem unsavoury."
+
+118. _Thy._ Pope substituted "my," but _thy_ may be defended on the
+nautical principle that the pilot is the master of the ship after he
+takes her in charge. That seems to be Romeo's thought here; he gives up
+the helm to the "desperate pilot," and says, "The ship is yours, run her
+upon the rocks if you will."
+
+121. _Be my speed._ Cf. _Hen. V._ v. 2. 194: "Saint Denis be my speed!"
+_A.Y.L._ i. 2. 222: "Hercules be thy speed!" etc.
+
+122. _Stumbled at graves._ The idea that to stumble is a bad omen is
+very ancient. Cicero mentions it in his _De Divinatione_. Melton, in his
+_Astrologaster_, 1620, says that "if a man stumbles in a morning as soon
+as he comes out of dores, it is a signe of ill lucke." Bishop Hall, in
+his _Characters_, says of the "Superstitious Man" that "if he stumbled
+at the threshold, he feares a mischief." Stumbling at graves is alluded
+to in _Whimzies, or a New Cast of Characters_, 1631: "His
+earth-reverting body (according to his mind) is to be buried in some
+cell, roach, or vault, and in no open space, lest passengers (belike)
+might stumble on his grave." Steevens cites 3 _Hen. VI._ iv. 7. 11 and
+_Rich. III._ iii. 4. 86.
+
+127. _Capels'._ See on v. 1. 18 above.
+
+138. _I dreamt_, etc. Steevens considers this a touch or nature: "What
+happens to a person under the manifest influence of fear will seem to
+him, when he is recovered from it, like a dream." It seems to me more
+likely that the man confuses what he saw while half asleep with what he
+might have dreamt.
+
+145. _Unkind._ Usually accented on the first syllable before a noun, but
+otherwise on the second. This often occurs with dis-syllabic adjectives
+and participles. _Unkind_ and its derivatives are often used by S. in a
+much stronger sense than at present. In some cases, the etymological
+sense of _unnatural_ (cf. _kind_ and _kindly_ = natural) seems to cling
+to them. Cf. _J.C._ iii. 2. 187, _Lear_, i. 1. 263, iii. 4. 73, etc.
+
+148. _Comfortable._ Used in an active sense = ready to comfort or help;
+as in _A.W._ i. 1. 86, _Lear_, i. 4. 328, etc.
+
+158. _The watch._ It has been asserted by some of the critics that there
+was no watch in the old Italian cities; but, however that may have been,
+S. follows Brooke's poem:--
+
+ "The watchemen of the towne the whilst are passed by,
+ And through the gates the candel light within the tombe they spye."
+
+162. _Timeless._ Untimely. Cf. _T.G. of V._ iii. 1. 21: "your timeless
+grave;" _Rich. II._ iv. 1. 5: "his timeless end," etc.
+
+163. _Drunk all, and left._ The reading of 2nd quarto. The 1st has
+"drink ... leave," and the folio "drink ... left."
+
+170. _There rest._ From 1st quarto; the other early eds. have "rust,"
+which some editors prefer. To me _rest_ seems both more poetical and
+more natural. That at this time Juliet should think of "Romeo's dagger,
+which would otherwise rust in its sheath, as rusting in her heart," is
+quite inconceivable. It is a "conceit" of the worst Elizabethan type.
+
+The tragedy here ends in Booth's Acting Copy (Furness).
+
+173. _Attach._ Arrest; as in _C. of E._ iv. 1. 6, 73, iv. 4. 6, _Rich.
+II._ ii. 3. 156, _Hen. VIII._ i. 1. 217, i. 2. 210, etc.
+
+176. _These two days._ See on iv. 1. 105 above.
+
+181. _Without circumstance._ Without further particulars. Cf. ii. 5. 36
+above.
+
+203. _His house._ Its sheath. See on ii, 6. 12 above.
+
+204. _On the back._ The dagger was commonly turned behind and worn at
+the back, as Steevens shows by sundry quotations.
+
+207. _Old age._ A slip which, strangely enough, no editor or
+commentator has noticed. Furness notes no reference to it, and I find
+none in more recent editions. See on i. 3. 51 above.
+
+211. _Grief of my son's exile._ Cf. _Much Ado_, iv. 2. 65: "and upon the
+grief of this suddenly died." For the accent of _exile_, cf. iii. 1. 190
+and iii. 3. 20 above.
+
+After this line the 1st quarto has the following: "And yong _Benuolio_
+is deceased too;" but, as Ulrici remarks, "the pacific, considerate
+Benvolio, the constant counseller of moderation, ought not to be
+involved in the fate which had overtaken the extremes of hate and
+passion."
+
+214. _Manners._ S. makes the word either singular or plural, like
+_news_, _tidings_ (see on iii. 5. 105 above), etc. Cf. _A.W._ ii. 2. 9,
+_W.T._ iv. 4. 244, etc. with _T.N._ iv. 1. 53, _Rich. III._ iii. 7. 191,
+etc.
+
+216. _Outrage._ Cf. 1 _Hen. VI._ iv. 1. 126:--
+
+ "Are you not asham'd
+ With this immodest clamorous outrage
+ To trouble and disturb the king and us?"
+
+There, as here, it means a mad outcry. Dyce quotes Settle, _Female
+Prelate_: "Silence his outrage in a jayl, away with him!"
+
+221. _Patience._ A trisyllable. See on v. 1. 27 above. In the next line
+_suspicion_ is a quadrisyllable.
+
+229. _I will be brief_, etc. Johnson and Malone criticise S. for
+following Brooke in the introduction of this long narrative. Ulrici well
+defends it as preparing the way for the reconciliation of the Capulets
+and Montagues over the dead bodies of their children, the victims of
+their hate. For _date_, see on i. 4. 105 above.
+
+237. _Siege._ Cf. the same image in i. 1. 209.
+
+238. _Perforce._ By force, against her will; as in _C. of E._ iv. 3. 95,
+_Rich. II._ ii. 3. 121, etc.
+
+241. _Marriage._ A trisyllable. See on iv. 1. 11 above, and cf. 265
+below.
+
+247. _As this dire night._ This redundant use of _as_ in statements of
+time is not uncommon. Cf. _J.C._ v. 1. 72: "as this very day was Cassius
+born," etc.
+
+253. _Hour._ A dissyllable; as in iii. 1. 198 above.
+
+257. _Some minute._ We should now say "some minutes," which is Hanmer's
+reading. Cf. "some hour" in 268 below.
+
+258. _Untimely._ For the adverbial use, see on iii. 1. 121 above.
+
+270. _Still._ Always. See on 106 above.
+
+273. _In post._ In haste, or "post-haste." Cf. v. 1. 21 above. We find
+"in all post" in _Rich. III._ iii. 5. 73, and "all in post" in _R. of
+L._ 1.
+
+276. _Going in._ See on v. 1. 36 above.
+
+280. _What made your master?_ What was your master doing? Cf. _A.Y.L._
+i. 1. 3, ii. 3. 4, etc.
+
+284. _By and by._ Presently. See on ii. 2. 151 above.
+
+289. _Pothecary._ Generally printed "'pothecary" in the modern eds., but
+not in the early ones. It was a common form of the word. Cf. Chaucer,
+_Pardoneres Tale_:--
+
+ "And forth he goth, no longer wold he tary,
+ Into the toun unto a potecary."
+
+_Therewithal._ Therewith, with it. Cf. _T.G. of V._ iv. 4. 90:--
+
+ "Well, give her that ring and therewithal
+ This letter," etc.
+
+291. _Be._ Cf. _Ham._ iii. 2. 111, v. 1. 107, etc.
+
+295. _A brace of kinsmen._ Mercutio and Paris. For the former, see iii.
+1. 112; and for the latter, iii. 5. 179 and v. 3. 75. Steevens remarks
+that _brace_ as applied to men is generally contemptuous; as in _Temp._
+v. 1. 126: "But you, my brace of lords," etc. As a parallel to the
+present passage, cf. _T. and C._ iv. 5. 175: "You brace of warlike
+brothers, welcome hither!"
+
+305. _Glooming._ Used by S. only here. Steevens cites _Tom Tyler and his
+Wife_, 1578: "If either he gaspeth or gloometh." Cf. Spenser, _F.Q._ i.
+14: "A little glooming light, much like a shade." Young uses the verb
+in his _Night Thoughts_, ii.: "A night that glooms us in the noontide
+ray."
+
+308. _Some shall be pardoned_, etc. In the novel, Juliet's attendant is
+banished for concealing the marriage; Romeo's servant set at liberty
+because he had acted under his master's orders; the apothecary tortured
+and hanged; and Friar Laurence permitted to retire to a hermitage, where
+he dies five years later.
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX
+
+CONCERNING ARTHUR BROOKE
+
+
+Little is known of the life of Arthur Broke, or Brooke, except that he
+wrote _Romeus and Juliet_ (1562) and the next year published a book
+entitled _Agreement of Sundry Places of Scripture, seeming in shew to
+jarre, serving in stead of Commentaryes not only for these, but others
+lyke_; a translation from the French. He died that same year (1563), and
+an _Epitaph_ by George Turbervile (printed in a volume of his poems,
+1567) "on the death of maister Arthur Brooke" informs us that he was
+"drowned in passing to Newhaven."
+
+So far as I am aware, no editor or commentator has referred to the
+singular prose introduction to the 1562 edition of _Romeus and Juliet_.
+It is clear from internal evidence that it was written by Brooke, and it
+is signed "Ar. Br."--the form in which his name also appears on the
+title-page; but its tone and spirit are strangely unlike those of the
+poem. We have seen (p. 25 above) that he refers to the perpetuation of
+"the memory of so perfect, sound, and so approved love" by the "stately
+tomb" of Romeo and Juliet, with "great store of cunning epitaphs in
+honour of their death;" but in the introduction he expresses a very
+different opinion of the lovers and finds a very different lesson in
+their fate. He says: "To this end (good Reader) is this tragical matter
+written, to describe unto thee a couple of unfortunate lovers, thralling
+themselves to unhonest desire, neglecting the authority and advice of
+parents and friends, conferring their principal counsels with drunken
+gossips and superstitious friars (the naturally fit instruments of
+unchastity), attempting all adventures of peril for the attaining of
+their wicked lusts, using auricular confession (the key of whoredom and
+treason) for furtherance of their purpose, abusing the honourable name
+of lawful marriage to cloak the shame of stolen contracts; finally, by
+all means of unhonest life, hasting to most unhappy death." The
+suggestion is added that parents may do well to show the poem to their
+children with "the intent to raise in them an hateful loathing of so
+filthy beastliness."
+
+It is curious that there is not the slightest hint of all this anywhere
+in the poem; not a suggestion that the love of Romeo and Juliet is not
+natural and pure and honest; not a word of reproach for the course of
+Friar Laurence. Even the picture of the Nurse, with her vulgarity and
+unscrupulousness, is drawn with a kind of humour.
+
+I have quoted above (note on ii. 2. 142) what Brooke makes Juliet say to
+her lover in the balcony scene. In their first interview, she says:--
+
+ "You are no more your owne (deare frend) then I am yours
+ (My honor saved) prest tobay [to obey] your will while life endures.
+ Lo here the lucky lot that sild [seldom] true lovers finde:
+ Eche takes away the others hart, and leaves the owne behinde.
+ A happy life is love if God graunt from above
+ That hart with hart by even waight doo make exchaunge of love."
+
+And Romeo has just said:--
+
+ "For I of God woulde crave, as pryse of paynes forpast,
+ To serve, obey, and honor you so long as lyfe shall last."
+
+Of the Friar the poet says:--
+
+"This barefoote fryer gyrt with cord his grayish weede, For he of
+Frauncis order was, a fryer as I reede. Not as the most was he, a grosse
+unlearned foole: But doctor of divinitie proceeded he in schoole.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ The bounty of the fryer and wisdom hath so woune
+ The townes folks harts that welnigh all to fryer Lawrence ronne.
+ To shrive them selfe the olde, the yong, the great and small:
+ Of all he is beloved well and honord much of all.
+ And for he did the rest in wisdome farre exceede
+ The prince by him (his counsell cravde) was holpe at time of neede.
+ Betwixt the Capilets and him great frendship grew:
+ A secret and assured frend unto the Montegue."
+
+At the end of the tragic story the poet asks:--
+
+ "But now what shall betyde of this gray-bearded syre?
+ Of fryer Lawrence thus araynde, that good barefooted fryre?
+ Because that many times he woorthely did serve
+ The commen welth, and in his lyfe was never found to swerve,
+ He was discharged quyte, and no marke of defame
+ Did seeme to blot or touch at all the honor of his name.
+ But of him selfe he went into an Hermitage,
+ Two myles from Veron towne, where he in prayers past forth his age;
+ Till that from earth to heaven his heavenly sprite dyd flye:
+ Fyve yeres he lived an Hermite, and an Hermite dyd he dye."
+
+The puzzling prose preface to the poem is followed, in the original
+edition, by another in verse, similarly headed "To the Reader," from
+which we learn that Brooke had written other poems, which with this he
+compares to unlicked whelps--"nought els but lumpes of fleshe withouten
+heare" (hair)--but _this_ poem, he says, is "the eldest of them" and his
+"youthfull woorke." He has decided to publish it, but "The rest (unlickt
+as yet) a whyle shall lurke" (that is, in manuscript)--
+
+ "Till tyme give strength to meete and match in fight
+ With slaunders whelpes."
+
+I suspect that after this poem was written he had become a Puritan,--or
+more rigid in his Puritanism,--but nevertheless lusted after literary
+fame and could not resist the temptation to publish the "youthfull
+woorke." But after writing the verse prologue it occurred to him--or
+some of his godly friends may have admonished him--that the character of
+the story and the manner in which he had treated it, needed further
+apology or justification; and the prose preface was written to serve as
+a kind of "moral" to the production. After the suggestion to parents
+quoted above he adds: "Hereunto if you applye it, ye shall _deliver my
+dooing from offence_, and profit your selves. Though I saw the same
+argument lately set foorth on stage with more commendation then I can
+looke for (being there much better set forth then I have or can dooe)
+yet the same matter penned as it is, may serve to lyke good effect, if
+the readers do brynge with them lyke good myndes, to consider it, which
+hath the more incouraged me to publishe it, such as it is."
+
+The reader may be surprised that Brooke refers to having seen the story
+"on stage;" but the Puritans did not altogether disapprove of plays that
+had a moral purpose. It will be remembered that Stephen Gosson, in his
+_Schoole of Abuse_ (1579), excepts a few plays from the sweeping
+condemnation of his "plesaunt invective against Poets, Pipers, Plaiers,
+Jesters, and such like caterpillers of a Commonwelth"--among them being
+"_The Jew_,... representing the greedinesse of worldly chusers, and the
+bloody minds of usurers," which may have anticipated Shakespeare in
+combining the stories of the caskets and the pound of flesh in _The
+Merchant of Venice_.
+
+That Brooke was a Puritan we may infer from the religious character of
+the only other book (mentioned above) which he is known to have
+published. His death the same year probably prevented his carrying out
+the intention of licking the rest of his poetical progeny into shape for
+print.
+
+
+COMMENTS ON SOME OF THE CHARACTERS
+
+JULIET.--Juliet is not fortunate in her parents. Her father is sixty or
+more years old (as we may infer from what he says in i. 5. 29 fol.),
+while her mother is about twenty-eight (see i. 3. 50), and must have
+been married when she was half that age. Her assertion that Juliet was
+born when she herself was "much upon these years" of her daughter (who
+will be fourteen in about a fortnight, as the Nurse informs us in the
+same scene) is somewhat indefinite, but must be within a year or two of
+the exact figure. Her marriage was evidently a worldly one, arranged by
+her parents with little or no regard for her own feelings, much as she
+and her husband propose to marry Juliet to Paris.
+
+We may infer that Capulet had not been married before, though, as he
+himself intimates and the lady declares (iv. 4. 11 fol.), he had been a
+"mouse-hunt" (given to flirtation and intrigue) in his bachelor days;
+and she thinks that he needs "watching" even now, lest he give her
+occasion for jealousy.
+
+Neither father nor mother seems to have any marked affection for Juliet,
+or any interest in her welfare except to get her off their hands by
+what, from their point of view, is a desirable marriage. Capulet says
+(iii. 5. 175):--
+
+ "God's bread! it makes me mad! Day, night, late, early,
+ At home, abroad, alone, in company,
+ Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been
+ To have her match'd; and having now provided
+ A gentleman of noble parentage,
+ Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
+ Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts,
+ Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man,--
+ And then to have a wretched puling fool,
+ A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
+ To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love,
+ I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.'"
+
+It is more than he can endure; and his wife, when Juliet begs her to
+interpose and "delay the marriage for a month, a week," refuses to
+"speak a word" in opposition to his determination to let her "die in the
+streets" if she does not marry Paris that very week. "Do as thou wilt,
+for I have done with thee," the Lady adds, and leaves the hapless girl
+to her despair. A moment before she had said, "I would the fool were
+married to her grave!"
+
+Earlier in the play (i. 2. 16) Capulet has said to Paris:--
+
+ "But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
+ My will to her consent is but a part;
+ An she agree, within her scope of choice,
+ Lies my consent and fair according voice;"--
+
+but from the context we see that this is merely a plausible excuse for
+not giving the count a definite answer just then. The girl, he says, is
+"yet a stranger in the world" (has not yet "come out," in modern
+parlance), and it is best to wait a year or two:--
+
+ "Let two more summers wither in their pride
+ Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride."
+
+He sees no reason for haste; but later, influenced by the noble wooer's
+importunities and the persuasions of his wife, who has favoured an early
+marriage from the first (i. 3), he takes a different tone (iii. 4.
+12):--
+
+ "_Capulet._ Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
+ Of my child's love. I think she will be rul'd
+ In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.--
+ Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
+ Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love,
+ And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next--
+ But, soft! what day is this?
+
+ _Paris._ Monday, my lord.
+
+ _Capulet._ Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon.
+ O' Thursday let it be; o' Thursday, tell her,
+ She shall be married to this noble earl."
+
+"She _shall_ be married," and the day is fixed. Already he calls Paris
+"my son." No question now of delay, and getting her "consent" as a
+condition of securing his own!
+
+At the supposed sudden death of their daughter the parents naturally
+feel some genuine grief; but their conventional wailing (iv. 5) belongs
+to the earlier version of the play, and it is significant that
+Shakespeare let it stand when revising his work some years afterwards.
+As Tieck remarks, it "had not the true tragic ring"--and why should it?
+
+Most of the critics have assumed that Shakespeare makes Juliet only
+fourteen, because of her Italian birth; but in the original Italian
+versions of the story she is eighteen, and Brooke makes her sixteen. All
+of Shakespeare's other youthful heroines whose ages are definitely
+stated or indicated are very young. Miranda, in _The Tempest_, is barely
+fifteen, as she has been "twelve year" on the enchanted island and was
+"not out [full] three years old" when her father was driven from Milan.
+Marina, in _Pericles_, is only fifteen at the end of the play; and
+Perdita only sixteen, as we learn from the prologue to act iv. of _The
+Winter's Tale_.
+
+In Juliet's case, I believe that the youthfulness was an essential
+element in Shakespeare's conception of the character. With the parents
+and the Nurse he has given her, she could only have been, at the opening
+of the play, the mere girl he makes her. She must be too young to have
+discovered the real character of her father and mother, and to have been
+chilled and hardened by learning how unlike they were to the ideals of
+her childhood. She must not have come to comprehend fully the low coarse
+nature of the Nurse, her foster-mother. The poet would not have dared to
+leave the maiden under the influence of that gross creature till she was
+eighteen, or even sixteen. As it is, she has not been harmed by the
+prurient vulgarity of the garrulous dame. She never shows any interest
+in it, or seems even to notice it. When her mother first refers to the
+suit of Paris (i. 3) we see that no thought of love or marriage has ever
+occurred to her, and the glowing description of a noble and wealthy
+young wooer does not excite her imagination in the least. Her only
+response to all that the Lady and the Nurse have urged in praise of
+Paris is coldly acquiescent:--
+
+ "I'll look to like, if looking liking move;
+ But no more deep will I endart mine eye
+ Than your consent gives strength to make it fly."
+
+The playful manner in which Juliet receives the advances of Romeo (i. 5.
+95-109) is thoroughly girlish, though we must note that his first
+speech, as given in the play ("If I profane," etc.), is not the
+beginning of their conversation, which has been going on while Capulet
+and Tybalt were talking. This is the first and the last glimpse that we
+get of her bright young sportiveness. With the kiss that ends the pretty
+quibbling the girl learns what love means, and the larger life of
+womanhood begins.
+
+The "balcony scene" (ii. 2)--the most exquisite love scene ever
+written--is in perfect keeping with the poet's conception of Juliet as
+little more than a child--still childlike in the expression of the new
+love that is making her a woman. Hence the absolute frankness in her
+avowal of that love--an ideal love in which passion and purity are
+perfectly interfused. There is not a suggestion of sensuality on Romeo's
+part any more than on hers. When he asks, "O, wilt thou leave me so
+unsatisfied?" it is only the half-involuntary utterance of the man's
+impatience--so natural to the man--that the full fruition of his love
+must be delayed. Juliet knows that it involves no base suggestion, and a
+touch of tender sympathy and pity is mingled with the maiden wisdom of
+the innocent response, "What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?"
+
+Lady Martin (Helena Faucit), who has played the part of Juliet with rare
+power and grace, and has written about it no less admirably, remarks on
+this scene: "Women are deeply in debt to Shakespeare for all the lovely
+and noble things he has put into his women's hearts and mouths, but
+surely for nothing more than for the words in which Juliet's reply [to
+Romeo, when he has overheard her soliloquy in the balcony] is couched.
+Only one who knew of what a true woman is capable, in frankness, in
+courage, and self-surrender when her heart is possessed by a noble love,
+could have touched with such delicacy, such infinite charm of mingled
+reserve and artless frankness, the avowal of so fervent, yet so modest a
+love, the secret of which had been so strangely stolen from her. As the
+whole scene is the noblest pæan to Love ever written, so is what Juliet
+says supreme in subtlety of feeling and expression, where all is
+beautiful. Watch all the fluctuations of emotion which pervade it, ...
+the generous frankness of the giving, the timid drawing back, fearful of
+having given too much unsought; the perplexity of the whole, all summed
+up in that sweet entreaty for pardon with which it closes."
+
+Juliet's soliloquy in iii. 3 is no less remarkable for its chaste and
+reverent dealing with a situation even more perilous for the dramatist.
+We must not forget that it _is_ a soliloquy, "breathed out in the
+silence and solitude of her chamber," as Mrs. Jameson reminds us; or, we
+may say, not so much as breathed out, but only thought and felt,
+unuttered even when no one could have heard it. As spoken to a
+theatrical audience, it is only to a sympathetic listener who
+appreciates the situation that it can have its true effect, and one
+feels almost guilty and ashamed at having intruded upon the sacred
+privacy of the maiden meditation. Even to comment upon it seems like
+profanity.
+
+Here, as in the balcony scene, Juliet is simply the "impatient child" to
+whom she compares herself, looking forward with mingled innocence and
+eagerness to the fruition of the "tender wishes blossoming at night"
+that inspire the soliloquy.
+
+In one of Romeo's speeches in the interview with Friar Laurence after
+the death of Tybalt (iii. 3), there is a delicate tribute to the girlish
+purity and timidity of Juliet, though it occurs in a connection so
+repellent to our taste that we may fail to note it. This is the
+passage:--
+
+ "heaven is here,
+ Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog
+ And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
+ Live here in heaven and may look on her,
+ But Romeo may not. More validity,
+ More honourable state, more courtship lives
+ In carrion-flies than Romeo. They may seize
+ On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
+ And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
+ Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
+ Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin:
+ But Romeo may not, he is banished.
+ This may flies do, when I from this must fly;
+ They are free men, but I am banished."
+
+This is unquestionably from the earliest draft of the play, and is a
+specimen of the most intolerable class of Elizabethan conceits. As
+another has said, "Perhaps the worst line that Shakespeare or any other
+poet ever wrote, is the dreadful one where Romeo, in the very height of
+his passionate despair, says, 'This may _flies_ do, but I from this must
+_fly_.'" It comes in "with an obtrusive incongruity which absolutely
+makes one shudder." The allusion to the "carrion flies" is bad enough,
+but the added pun on _fly_, which makes the allusion appear deliberate
+and elaborate rather than an unfortunate lapse due to the excitement of
+the moment, forbids any attempt to excuse or palliate it. But we must
+not overlook the exquisite reference to Juliet's lips, that--
+
+ "even in pure and vestal modesty
+ Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin."
+
+There we have the true Juliet--the Juliet whose maiden modesty and
+innocence certain critics (in their comments upon the soliloquy in iii.
+3) have been too gross to comprehend. It is to Romeo's honour that he
+can understand and feel it even when recalling the passionate exchange
+of conjugal kisses.
+
+The scene (iv. 3) in which Juliet drinks the potion has been
+misinterpreted by some of the best critics. Coleridge says that she
+"swallows the draught in a fit of fright," for it would have been "too
+bold a thing" for a girl of fourteen to have done it otherwise. Mrs.
+Jameson says that, "gradually and most naturally, in such a mind once
+_thrown off its poise_, the horror rises to _frenzy_,--her imagination
+realizes its own hideous creations,"--that is, after picturing all the
+possible horrors of the tomb, she _sees_, or believes she sees, the
+ghost of Tybalt, and drinks the potion in the frenzied apprehension the
+vision excites. On the contrary, as George Fletcher remarks, "the very
+clearness and completeness with which her mind embraces her present
+position make her pass in lucid review, and in the most natural and
+logical sequence, the several dismal contingencies that await her"--thus
+leading up, "step by step, to this climax of the accumulated horrors,
+not which she _may_, but which she _must_ encounter, if she wake before
+the calculated moment. This pressure on her brain, crowned by the vivid
+apprehension of _anticipated_ frenzy, does, indeed, amid her dim and
+silent loneliness, produce a momentary hallucination [of Tybalt's
+ghost], but she instantly recovers herself, recognizes the illusion, ...
+embraces the one chance of earthly reunion with her lord--'Romeo, I
+come! this do I drink to thee!'"
+
+This is substantially Lady Martin's interpretation of the scene, and
+that which she carried out in action on the stage. She says: "For the
+moment the great fear gets the better of her great love, and all seems
+madness. Then in her frenzy of excitement she seems to see Tybalt's
+figure 'seeking out Romeo.' At the mention of Romeo's name I used to
+feel all my resolution return. Romeo! She goes to meet him, and what
+terror shall hold her back? She will pass through the horror of hell
+itself to reach what lies beyond; and she swallows the potion with his
+name upon her lips." The lady adds: "What it is to act it I need not
+tell. What power it demands! and yet what restraint!"
+
+ROMEO.--Some critics have expressed surprise that Shakespeare should
+have preluded the main story of the drama with the "superfluous
+complication" of Romeo's love for Rosaline. On the other hand, Coleridge
+considers it "a strong instance of the fineness of his insight into the
+nature of the passions." He adds: "The necessity of loving creates an
+object for itself in man and woman; and yet there is a difference in
+this respect between the sexes, though only to be known by a perception
+of it. It would have displeased us if Juliet had been represented as
+already in love, or as fancying herself so; but no one, I believe, ever
+experiences any shock at Romeo's forgetting his Rosaline, who had been a
+mere name for the yearning of his youthful imagination, and rushing into
+his passion for Juliet." Mrs. Jameson says: "Our impression of Juliet's
+loveliness and sensibility is enhanced when we find it overcoming in the
+bosom of Romeo a previous love for another. His visionary passion for
+the cold, inaccessible Rosaline forms but the prologue, the threshold,
+to the true, the real sentiment which succeeds to it. This incident,
+which is found in the original story, has been retained by Shakspeare
+with equal feeling and judgment; and, far from being a fault in taste
+and sentiment, far from prejudicing us against Romeo by casting on him,
+at the outset of the piece, the stigma of inconstancy, it becomes, if
+properly considered, a beauty in the drama, and adds a fresh stroke of
+truth to the portrait of the lover. Why, after all, should we be
+offended at what does not offend Juliet herself? for in the original
+story we find that her attention is first attracted towards Romeo by
+seeing him 'fancy-sick and pale of cheer,' for love of a cold beauty."
+
+The German critic Kreyssig aptly remarks: "We make the acquaintance of
+Romeo at the critical period of that not dangerous sickness to which
+youth is liable. It is that 'love lying in the eyes' of early and just
+blossoming manhood, that humorsome, whimsical 'love in idleness,' that
+first bewildered, stammering interview of the heart with the scarcely
+awakened nature. Strangely enough, objections have been made to this
+'superfluous complication,' as if, down to this day, every Romeo had not
+to sigh for some Junonian Rosaline, nay, for half a dozen Rosalines,
+more or less, before his eyes open upon his Juliet."
+
+Young men of ardent and sentimental nature, as Kreyssig intimates,
+imagine themselves in love--sometimes again and again--before a genuine
+passion takes possession of them. As Rosalind expresses it, Cupid may
+have "clapped them on the shoulder," but, they are really "heart-whole."
+Such love is like that of the song in _The Merchant of Venice_:--
+
+ "It is engender'd in the eyes,
+ By gazing fed, and fancy dies
+ In the cradle where it lies."
+
+It lives only until it is displaced by a healthier, more vigorous love,
+capable of outgrowing the precarious period of infancy.[8] This is not
+the only instance of the kind in Shakespeare. Orsino's experience in
+_Twelfth Night_ is similar to Romeo's. At the beginning of the play he
+is suffering from unrequited love for Olivia, but later finds his Juliet
+in Viola.
+
+Romeo is a very young man--if indeed we may call him a man when we first
+meet him. We may suppose him to be twenty, but hardly older. He has seen
+very little of society, as we infer from Benvolio's advising him to go
+to the masquerade at Capulet's, in order to compare "the admired
+beauties of Verona" with Rosaline. He had thought her "fair, none else
+being by." He is hardly less "a stranger in the world" than Juliet
+himself. Love develops him as it does her, but more slowly.
+
+Contrast the strength of Juliet's new-born heroism in her budding
+womanhood, when she drinks the potion that is to consign her to the
+horrors of the charnel-house, with the weakness of Romeo who is ready to
+kill himself when he learns that he is to be banished from Verona,--an
+insignificant fate compared with that which threatens her--banishment
+from home, a beggar in the streets,--the only alternative a criminal
+marriage that would forever separate her from her lawful husband, or
+death to escape that guilt and wretchedness. No wonder that the Friar
+cannot control his contempt and indignation when Romeo draws his
+sword:--
+
+ "Hold thy desperate hand!
+ Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art;
+ Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote
+ The unreasonable fury of a beast,
+ Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
+ Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
+ Thou hast amaz'd me; by my holy order,
+ I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
+ Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
+ And slay thy lady too that lives in thee,
+ By doing damned hate upon thyself?
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
+ For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
+ There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee,
+ But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou happy too.
+ The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend
+ And turns it to exile; there art thou happy.
+ A pack of blessings lights upon thy back,
+ Happiness courts thee in her best array;
+ But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench,
+ Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love.
+ Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable."
+
+He has the form of a man, but talks and acts like a weak girl, while the
+girl of fourteen whom he loves--a child three days before, we might
+say--now shows a self-control and fortitude worthy of a man.
+
+Romeo does not attain to true manhood until he receives the tidings of
+Juliet's supposed death. "Now, for the first time," as Dowden says, "he
+is completely delivered from the life of dream, completely adult, and
+able to act with an initiative in his own will, and with manly
+determination. Accordingly, he now speaks with masculine directness and
+energy: 'Is it even so? Then I defy you, stars!' Yes; he is now master
+of events; the stars cannot alter his course. 'Nothing,' as Maginn has
+observed, 'can be more quiet than his final determination, "Well,
+Juliet, I will lie with thee to night." ... It is plain Juliet. His mind
+is made up; the whole course of the short remainder of his life so
+unalterably fixed that it is perfectly useless to think more about it.'
+These words, because they are the simplest, are amongst the most
+memorable that Romeo utters. Now passion, imagination, and will are
+fused together, and Romeo who was weak has at length become strong."
+
+[Footnote 8: Praed alludes to this affection of the "salad days" of
+youth in _The Belle of the Ball-room_:--
+
+ "Through sunny May, through sultry June,
+ I loved her with a love eternal."
+
+That is about the average span of its "eternity." In Romeo's case it did
+not last even two months, as we may infer from the fact (i. 1. 136) that
+his parents have not found out the cause of it, and from what his
+friends say about it.]
+
+MERCUTIO.--Dryden quotes a traditional saying concerning Mercutio, that
+if Shakespeare had not killed him, he would have killed Shakespeare. But
+Shakespeare was never driven to disposing of a personage in that way,
+because he was unequal to the effort of maintaining the full vigour or
+brilliancy of the characterization. He did not have to kill off
+Falstaff, for instance, until he had carried him through three complete
+plays, and then only because his "occupation," dramatically speaking,
+"was gone." There was the same reason for killing Mercutio. The
+dramatist had no further use for him after the quarrel with Tybalt which
+leads to his death. In both the novel and the poem, Romeo kills Tybalt
+in a street brawl between the partisans of the rival houses. The
+dramatic effect of the scene in the play where Romeo avoids being drawn
+into a conflict with Tybalt until driven to incontrollable grief and
+wrath by the death of his friend is far more impressive. The
+self-control and self-restraint of Romeo, in spite of the insults of
+Tybalt and the disgust of Mercutio at what seems to him "calm,
+dishonourable, vile submission," show how reluctant the lover of Juliet
+is to fight with her kinsman. He does his best to restrain his friend
+from the duel: "Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up--" but to no purpose;
+nor is his appeal to Benvolio to "beat down their weapons" more
+successful. He then attempts to do this himself, but the only result is
+to bring about the death of Mercutio, who exclaims: "Why the devil came
+you between us? I was hurt under your arm." Poor Romeo can only plead,
+"I thought all for the best."
+
+But at this point in the play, when the tragic complication really
+begins, the dramatist must dismiss Mercutio from the stage, as he does
+with Falstaff after Prince Hal has become King. Mercutio must not come
+in contact with Juliet, nor will Romeo himself care to meet him. He is
+the most foul-mouthed of Shakespeare's characters, the clowns and
+profligates not excepted. The only instance in Shakespeare's works in
+which the original editions omit a word from the text is in a speech of
+Mercutio's; and Pope, who could on occasion be as coarse as any author
+of that licentious age, felt obliged to drop two of Mercutio's lines
+from his edition of the dramatist. Fortunately, the majority of the
+knight's gross allusions are so obscure that they would not be
+understood nowadays, even by readers quite familiar with the language of
+the time.
+
+And yet Mercutio is a fellow of excellent fancy--poetical fancy--as the
+familiar description of Queen Mab amply proves. Critics have picked it
+to pieces and found fault with some of the details; but there was never
+a finer mingling of exquisite poetry with keen and sparkling wit. Its
+imperfections and inconsistencies, if such they be, are in keeping with
+the character and the situation. It was meant to be a brilliant
+improvisation, not a carefully elaborated composition. Shakespeare may,
+indeed, have written the speech as rapidly and carelessly as he makes
+Mercutio speak it.
+
+
+THE TIME-ANALYSIS OF THE PLAY
+
+This is summed up by Mr. P.A. Daniel in his valuable paper "On the Times
+or Durations of the Actions of Shakspere's Plays" (_Trans. of New Shaks.
+Soc._ 1877-79, p. 194) as follows:--
+
+"Time of this Tragedy, six consecutive days, commencing on the morning
+of the first, and ending early in the morning of the sixth.
+
+ Day 1. (Sunday) Act I. and Act II. sc. i. and ii.
+ " 2. (Monday) Act II. sc. iii.-vi., Act III. sc. i.-iv.
+
+ Day 3. (Tuesday) Act III. sc. v., Act IV. sc. i.-iv.
+ " 4. (Wednesday) Act IV. sc. v.
+ " 5. (Thursday) Act V.
+ " 6. (Friday) End of Act V. sc. iii."
+
+After the above was printed, Dr. Furnivall called Mr. Daniel's attention
+to my note on page 249 fol. in which I show that the drama may close on
+Thursday morning instead of Friday. Mr. Daniel was at first disinclined
+to accept this view, but on second thought was compelled to admit that I
+was right.
+
+
+LIST OF CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY
+
+The numbers in parentheses indicate the lines the characters have in
+each scene.
+
+_Escalus_: i. 1(23); iii. 1(16); v. 3(36). Whole no. 75.
+
+_Paris_: i. 2(4); iii. 4(4); iv. 1(23), 5(6); v. 3(32). Whole no. 69.
+
+_Montague_: i. 1(28); iii. 1(3); v. 3(10). Whole no. 41.
+
+_Capulet_: i. 1(3), 2(33), 5(56); iii. 4(31), 5(63); iv. 2(26), 4(19),
+5(28); v. 3(10). Whole no. 269.
+
+_2d Capulet_: i. 5(3). Whole no. 3.
+
+_Romeo_: i. 1(65), 2(29), 4(34), 5(27); ii. 1(2), 2(86), 3(25), 4(54),
+6(12); iii. 1(36), 3(71), 5(24); v. 1(71), 3(82). Whole no. 618.
+
+_Mercutio_: i. 4(73); ii. 1(34), 4(95); iii. 1(71). Whole no. 273.
+
+_Benvolio_: i. 1(51), 2(20), 4(13). 5(1); ii. 1(9). 4(14); iii. 1(53).
+Whole no. 161.
+
+_Tybalt_: i. 1(5), 5(17); iii. 1(14). Whole no. 36.
+
+_Friar Laurence_: ii. 3(72), 6(18); iii. 3(87); iv. 1(56), 5(25); v.
+2(17), 3(75). Whole no. 350.
+
+_Friar John_: v. 2(13). Whole no. 13.
+
+_Balthasar_: v. 1(11), 3(21). Whole no. 32.
+
+_Sampson_: i. 1(41). Whole no. 41.
+
+_Gregory_: i. 1(24). Whole no. 24.
+
+_Peter_: iii. 4(7); iv. 5(30). Whole no. 37
+
+_Abram_: i. 1(5). Whole no. 5.
+
+_Apothecary_: v. 1(7). Whole no. 7.
+
+_1st Musician_: iv. 5(16). Whole no. 16.
+
+_2d Musician_: iv. 5(6). Whole no. 6.
+
+_3d Musician_: iv. 5(1). Whole no. 1.
+
+_1st Servant_: i. 2(21), 3(5), 5(11); iv. 4(1). Whole no. 38.
+
+_2d Servant_: i. 5(7); iv. 2(5), 4(2). Whole no. 14.
+
+_1st Watchman_: v. 3(19). Whole no. 19.
+
+_2d Watchman_: v. 3(1). Whole no. 1.
+
+_3d Watchman_: v. 3(3). Whole no. 3.
+
+_1st Citizen_: i. 1(2); iii. 1(4). Whole no. 6.
+
+_Page_: v. 3(9). Whole no. 9.
+
+_Lady Montague_: i. 1(3). Whole no. 3.
+
+_Lady Capulet_: i. 1(1), 3(36), 5(1); iii. 1(11), 4(2), 5(37); iv. 2(3),
+3(3), 4(3), 5(13); v. 3(5). Whole no. 115.
+
+_Juliet_: i. 3(8), 5(19); ii. 2(114), 5(43), 6(7); iii. 2(116), 5(105);
+iv. 1(48), 2(12), 3(56); v. 3(13). Whole no. 541.
+
+_Nurse_: i. 3(61), 5(15); ii. 2(114), 6(43), 7(7); iii. 2(116), 5(105);
+iv. 1(48), 2(12), 3(56); v. 3(13). Whole no. 290.
+
+"_Prologue_": (14). Whole no. 14.
+
+"_Chorus_": end of act i. (14). Whole no. 14.
+
+In the above enumeration, parts of lines are counted as whole lines,
+making the total in the play greater than it is. The actual number in
+each scene is as follows: Prologue (14); i. 1(244), 2(106), 3(106),
+4(114), 5(147); Chorus (14); ii. 1(42), 2(190), 3(94), 4(233), 5(80),
+6(37); iii. 1(202), 2(143), 3(175), 4(36), 5(241); iv. 1(126), 2(47),
+3(58), 4(28), 5(150); v. 1(86), 2(30), 3(310). Whole number in the play,
+3053. The line-numbering is that of the Globe ed.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX OF WORDS AND PHRASES EXPLAINED
+
+
+ a (= one), 215
+
+ a hall, a hall! 190
+
+ a la stoccata, 221
+
+ Abraham Cupid, 197
+
+ abused (= marred), 247
+
+ ache, 216
+
+ adventure (verb), 200, 266
+
+ advise (= consider), 244
+
+ afeard, 202
+
+ affections, 169
+
+ affray (verb), 238
+
+ afore, 214
+
+ afore me, 236
+
+ against (of time), 236
+
+ agate, 186
+
+ airy tongue, 203
+
+ all (intensive), 170
+
+ alligator, 263
+
+ amazed, 224
+
+ ambling, 183
+
+ ambuscadoes, 187
+
+ amerce, 225
+
+ anatomy, 234
+
+ ancient, 168, 206
+
+ and there an end, 236
+
+ antic, 191
+
+ apace, 215
+
+ ape, 198
+
+ apt to, 219, 235
+
+ as (= as if), 216
+
+ as (= namely), 254
+
+ as (omitted), 170
+
+ as (redundant), 272
+
+ associate me, 265
+
+ aspire (transitive), 223
+
+ atomies, 186
+
+ attach (= arrest), 271
+
+ attending (= attentive), 203
+
+ ay, 229
+
+ ay me! 197, 262
+
+
+ baked meats, 256
+
+ Balthasar (accent), 262
+
+ bandying, 216, 222
+
+ bankrupt (spelling), 229
+
+ banquet (= dessert), 195
+
+ bate (in falconry), 227
+
+ bear a brain, to, 179
+
+ beetle-brows, 183
+
+ behoveful, 253
+
+ bent (= inclination), 202
+
+ be-rhyme, 209
+
+ bescreened, 199
+
+ beshrew, 216, 244, 265
+
+ betossed, 267
+
+ better tempered, 234
+
+ bills (weapons), 167
+
+ bite by the ear, to, 211
+
+ bite the thumb, to, 167
+
+ blaze, 235
+
+ blazon, 218
+
+ bons, 209
+
+ bosom's lord, my, 262
+
+ both our remedies, 206
+
+ bound (play upon) 174, 183
+
+ bow of lath, 182
+
+ boy (contemptuous), 221
+
+ brace, 273
+
+ bride (masculine), 243
+
+ broad (goose), 212
+
+ broken music, 220
+
+ burn daylight, to, 185
+
+ button, 208
+
+ butt-shaft, 207
+
+ by and by (= presently), 224, 236, 273
+
+
+ candles (night's), 237
+
+ canker (= worm), 205
+
+ cankered, 168
+
+ Capel's, 262, 270
+
+ captain of compliments, 207
+
+ carries it away, 221
+
+ carry coals, to, 166
+
+ carry no crotchets, 261
+
+ case (play upon), 183, 259
+
+ cat, nine lives of, 221
+
+ catched, 258
+
+ catling, 261
+
+ charge, 265
+
+ cheerly, 190
+
+ cheveril, 212
+
+ chinks, 194
+
+ choler (play upon), 166
+
+ chop-logic, 243
+
+ Chorus, 165
+
+ circle (magician's), 198
+
+ circumstance, 216, 271
+
+ civil (= grave), 227
+
+ closed (= enclosed), 188
+
+ closet (= chamber), 253
+
+ clout, 207
+
+ clubs, 167
+
+ cock-a-hoop, 192
+
+ coil (= ado), 216
+
+ colliers, 166
+
+ come near, 190
+
+ comfortable (active), 271
+
+ commission, 248
+
+ compare (noun), 216, 246
+
+ compliment, 200
+
+ concealed, 234
+
+ conceit, 218
+
+ conclude (transitive), 225
+
+ conduct (= conductor), 223, 270
+
+ conduit, 242
+
+ confessor (accent), 218, 233
+
+ confidence (= conference), 212
+
+ confound (= destroy), 217
+
+ confusions, 258
+
+ conjurations, 267
+
+ conjure (accent), 197
+
+ consort (noun), 219
+
+ consort (transitive), 223
+
+ consort with, 219
+
+ content thee, 192
+
+ contract (accent), 201
+
+ contrary (accent), 229
+
+ contrary (verb), 193
+
+ convert (intransitive), 193
+
+ cot-quean, 257
+
+ county(= count), 181, 241
+
+ court-cupboard, 189
+
+ courtship, 233
+
+ cousin (= kinsman), 223
+
+ cousin (= uncle), 190
+
+ cover (play upon), 180
+
+ cross (= perverse), 253
+
+ cross (= thwart), 267
+
+ crow-keeper, 182
+
+ crush a cup, 176
+
+ crystal scales, 176
+
+ cure (intransitive), 174
+
+ curfew-bell, 256
+
+ Cynthia, 238
+
+
+ damnation (concrete), 245
+
+ dare (play upon), 207
+
+ dark heaven, 173
+
+ date (= duration), 188
+
+ dateless, 269
+
+ dear, 232, 265, 267
+
+ dear hap, 204
+
+ dear mercy, 232
+
+ death (concrete), 268
+
+ death-darting eye, 229
+
+ defy (= refuse), 267
+
+ deny (= refuse), 190
+
+ depart (= part), 220
+
+ depend (impend), 223
+
+ desperate, 236
+
+ determine of, 229
+
+ detestable (accent), 258
+
+ devotion (quadrisyllable), 248
+
+ Dian's wit, 171
+
+ digressing, 235
+
+ discover (= reveal), 201, 224
+
+ dislike (= displease), 200
+
+ displant, 233
+
+ dispute (= reason), 233
+
+ dissemblers (metre), 230
+
+ distemperature, 206
+
+ distraught, 255
+
+ division (in music), 238
+
+ do danger, 265
+
+ do disparagement, 192
+
+ do hate, 234
+
+ doctrine (= instruction), 172
+
+ doom thee death, 223
+
+ doth (plural), 165
+
+ doubt (= distrust), 267
+
+ drawn, 167
+
+ drift (= scheme), 252
+
+ dry-beat, 222, 261
+
+ dump, 260
+
+ Dun in the mire, 184
+
+ dun's the mouse, 184
+
+
+ earth, 173, 196
+
+ elf-locks, 187
+
+ empty (= hungry), 267
+
+ encamp them, 205
+
+ encounter, 218
+
+ endart, 181
+
+ enforce (= force), 267
+
+ engrossing, 269
+
+ enpierced, 183
+
+ entrance (trisyllable), 182
+
+ envious (= malicious), 224, 228
+
+ Ethiope, 191
+
+ evening mass, 247
+
+ exile (accent), 225, 232
+
+ expire (transitive), 188
+
+ extremes, 248
+
+ extremities, 196
+
+
+ faintly, 182
+
+ fairies' midwife, 186
+
+ familiar (metre), 232
+
+ fantasticoes, 208
+
+ fashion-mongers, 209
+
+ fay (= faith), 195
+
+ fearful (= afraid), 232
+
+ feeling (= heartfelt), 240
+
+ festering, 254
+
+ fettle, 243
+
+ fine (= penance), 193
+
+ fire drives out fire, 174
+
+ five wits, 185, 211
+
+ flattering (= illusive), 261
+
+ flecked, 204
+
+ fleer, 191
+
+ flirt-gills, 213
+
+ flowered (pump), 211
+
+ fond (= foolish), 233, 259
+
+ fool, 179
+
+ foolish, 195
+
+ fool's paradise, 214
+
+ for (repeated), 196
+
+ form (play upon), 209
+
+ forth, 169
+
+ fortune's fool, 224
+
+ frank (= bountiful), 201
+
+ Freetown, 169
+
+ fret, 237
+
+ friend (= lover), 239
+
+ from forth, 204
+
+
+ gapes, 196
+
+ garish, 228
+
+ gear (= matter), 212, 264
+
+ ghostly, 204
+
+ give leave awhile, 178
+
+ give me, 252
+
+ give me leave, 216
+
+ gleek, 260
+
+ glooming, 273
+
+ God save the mark! 229
+
+ God shall mend my soul! 192
+
+ God shield, 248
+
+ God ye good morrow! 212
+
+ good-den (or god-den), 170, 175, 219, 243
+
+ good goose, bite not, 211
+
+ good hap, 235
+
+ good morrow, 170, 205
+
+ good thou, 189
+
+ gore-blood, 229
+
+ gossamer, 217
+
+ grandsire, 209
+
+ grave (play upon), 223
+
+ grave beseeming, 168
+
+ green (eyes), 245
+
+ green (= fresh), 254
+
+ grey-eyed, 204, 209
+
+
+ haggard (noun), 203
+
+ hap, 204
+
+ harlotry, 253
+
+ have at thee, 167, 261
+
+ haviour, 200
+
+ hay (in fencing), 208
+
+ he (= him), 240
+
+ he (= man), 264
+
+ healthsome, 254
+
+ heartless (= cowardly), 167
+
+ Heart's-ease, 260
+
+ heavy (play upon), 170
+
+ held him carelessly, 236
+
+ highmost, 216
+
+ high-top-gallant, 214
+
+ hilding, 209, 243
+
+ his (= its), 259, 270
+
+ hoar (= mouldy), 213
+
+ hold the candle, to, 184
+
+ holp, 174
+
+ homely in thy drift, 206
+
+ honey (adjective), 216
+
+ hood, 227
+
+ hour (dissyllable), 216, 225
+
+ house (= sheath), 270
+
+ humorous, 198
+
+ humours, 197
+
+ hunts-up, 238
+
+
+ I (repeated), 220
+
+ idle worms, 186
+
+ ill-beseeming, 234
+
+ importuned (accent), 170
+
+ in (= into), 262, 267
+
+ in extremity, 181
+
+ in happy time, 241
+
+ in his view, 170
+
+ in post, 273
+
+ in spite, 168, 192
+
+ inconstant, 252
+
+ indite (= invite), 213
+
+ infection (quadrisyllable), 265
+
+ inherit (= possess), 173
+
+ it fits, 192
+
+
+ Jack, 213, 219, 261
+
+ jealous (= suspicious), 267
+
+ jealous-hood, 257
+
+ joint-stools, 188
+
+
+ keep ado, 236
+
+ kindly, 211, 271
+
+ king of cats, 221
+
+ knife (worn by ladies), 248, 254
+
+
+ label, 248
+
+ labour (of time), 258
+
+ lace, 210, 237
+
+ Lady, lady, lady, 213
+
+ lady-bird, 177
+
+ lamentation (metre), 235
+
+ Lammas-tide, 178
+
+ languish (noun), 174
+
+ lantern, 267
+
+ lay (= wager), 178
+
+ lay along, 266
+
+ learn (= teach), 227, 253
+
+ leaves, 218
+
+ let (noun), 200
+
+ level (= aim), 234
+
+ lieve, 215
+
+ light (play upon), 183
+
+ lightning before death, 268
+
+ like (= likely), 254
+
+ like of, 181
+
+ living (noun), 258
+
+ loggerhead, 257
+
+ long sword, 168
+
+ love (= Venus), 215
+
+ loving-jealous, 204
+
+
+ Mab, 185
+
+ made (= did), 273
+
+ maidenhead, 177
+
+ make and mar, 172
+
+ makes dainty, 190
+
+ mammet, 244
+
+ man of wax, 179
+
+ manage (noun), 224
+
+ mandrake, 254
+
+ manners (number), 272
+
+ many's, 181
+
+ marchpane, 189
+
+ margent, 180
+
+ mark (= appoint), 179
+
+ mark-man, 171
+
+ marriage (trisyllable), 196, 247, 272
+
+ married (figurative), 180
+
+ married and marred, 172
+
+ masks (ladies'), 172
+
+ me (ethical dative), 208, 219
+
+ mean (noun), 233
+
+ measure (= dance), 182
+
+ merchant (contemptuous), 213
+
+ mewed up, 236
+
+ mickle, 205
+
+ minion, 243
+
+ misadventure, 262
+
+ mistempered, 168
+
+ mistress (trisyllable), 214
+
+ modern (= trite), 231
+
+ moody (= angry), 219
+
+ mouse-hunt, 257
+
+ moved, 168
+
+ much upon these years, 179
+
+ muffle, 267
+
+
+ natural (= fool), 212
+
+ naught, 230
+
+ needly, 231
+
+ needy, 241
+
+ neighbour-stained, 168
+
+ new (adverbial), 170
+
+ news (number), 216, 242
+
+ nice (= petty, trifling), 224, 265
+
+ nightgown, 168
+
+ nor ... not, 238, 241
+
+ nothing (adverb), 169
+
+ nuptial, 191
+
+
+ O (= grief), 233
+
+ o'er-perch, 200
+
+ of (= on), 167, 216
+
+ of the very first house, 208
+
+ old (= practised), 234
+
+ one is no number, 173
+
+ operation (= effect), 219
+
+ opposition (metre), 253
+
+ orchard (= garden), 197
+
+ osier cage, 204
+
+ outrage (= outcry), 272
+
+ outrage (trisyllable), 222
+
+ overwhelming, 263
+
+ owe (= possess), 199
+
+ pale as a clout, 215
+
+ paly, 249
+
+ pardonnez-mois, 209
+
+ partisan, 167
+
+ parts (= gifts), 232, 244
+
+ passado, 208, 222
+
+ passing (adverbial), 172
+
+ pastry, 256
+
+ patience (trisyllable), 262, 272
+
+ patience perforce, 193
+
+ pay that doctrine, 172
+
+ peace (metre), 243
+
+ perforce (= by force), 272
+
+ peruse (= scan), 267
+
+ pestilent, 261
+
+ Phaethon, 225
+
+ pilcher, 222
+
+ pin (in archery), 207
+
+ pinked, 211
+
+ plantain, 174
+
+ pluck, 204
+
+ portly, 192
+
+ poor my lord, 230
+
+ pothecary, 273
+
+ pout'st upon, 235
+
+ powerful grace, 205
+
+ predominant, 205
+
+ presence, 268
+
+ present(= immediate), 264
+
+ presently, 262
+
+ pretty, 261
+
+ prevails (= avails), 233
+
+ prick of noon, 212
+
+ prick-song, 208
+
+ prince of cats, 207
+
+ princox, 193
+
+ procure, 239
+
+ prodigious, 196
+
+ proof (= experience), 171
+
+ proof (of armour), 171
+
+ properer, 215
+
+ prorogued, 200, 248
+
+ proverbed, 184
+
+ pump (= shoe), 211
+
+ punto reverso, 208
+
+ purchase out, 225
+
+
+ question (= conversation), 172
+
+ quit (= requite), 214
+
+ quote (= note), 183
+
+ quoth, 179
+
+
+ R, the dog's letter, 215
+
+ rearward, 231
+
+ reason coldly, 220
+
+ rebeck, 261
+
+ receipt, 241
+
+ receptacle (accent), 254
+
+ reckoning, 172
+
+ reeky, 249
+
+ remember (reflexive), 178
+
+ respective, 223
+
+ rest you merry! 175
+
+ retort (= throw back), 224
+
+ riddling, 206
+
+ roe (play upon), 209
+
+ rood (= cross), 179
+
+ ropery, 213
+
+ rosemary, 259
+
+ round (= whisper), 195
+
+ runaways' eyes, 225
+
+ rushed aside the law, 232
+
+ rushes, 183
+
+
+ sadly (= seriously), 171
+
+ sadness, 171
+
+ savage wild, 267
+
+ scales (singular), 176
+
+ scant, 176
+
+ scape, 219
+
+ scathe, 192
+
+ scorn at, 192
+
+ season, 206
+
+ set abroach, 169
+
+ set up my rest, 269
+
+ sick and green, 199
+
+ siege (figurative), 171, 272
+
+ silver-sweet, 203
+
+ simpleness, 216, 233
+
+ simples (= herbs), 216, 263
+
+ single-soled, 211
+
+ sir-reverence, 185
+
+ skains-mates, 213
+
+ slip (= counterfeit), 210
+
+ slops, 210
+
+ slow (verb), 247
+
+ smooth (verb), 231
+
+ so (omitted), 241
+
+ so brief to part, 235
+
+ so ho! 213
+
+ solemnity, 192
+
+ some minute, 273
+
+ some other where, 171
+
+ something (adverb), 266
+
+ sometime, 187
+
+ soon-speeding, 264
+
+ sorrow drinks our blood, 239
+
+ sort (= select), 253
+
+ sorted out, 241
+
+ soul (play upon), 183, 211
+
+ sound (= utter), 231
+
+ sour, 232, 267
+
+ sped, 222
+
+ speed, be my, 270
+
+ spinners, 186
+
+ spite, 198, 247
+
+ spleen, 224
+
+ spoke him fair, 224
+
+ stand on sudden haste, 206
+
+ star-crossed, 165
+
+ starved, 171
+
+ starveth, 264
+
+ stay (= wait for), 261
+
+ stay the circumstance, 216
+
+ steads, 206
+
+ still (= always), 269, 273
+
+ strained, 205
+
+ strange, 200, 227
+
+ strucken, 172
+
+ stumbling at graves, 270
+
+ substantial (quadrisyllable), 202
+
+ surcease, 249
+
+ swashing blow, 167
+
+ sweet my mother, 244
+
+ sweet water, 266
+
+ sweet-heart (accent), 257
+
+ sweeting, 211
+
+ sweetmeats, 187
+
+ swounded, 229
+
+ sycamore, 169
+
+
+ tables (turned up), 190
+
+ tackled stair, 214
+
+ take me with you, 242
+
+ take the wall, 166
+
+ take truce, 224
+
+ tassel-gentle, 203
+
+ teen, 178
+
+ temper (= mix), 241
+
+ tender (noun), 244
+
+ tender (= regard), 221
+
+ tetchy, 179
+
+ thank me no thankings, 243
+
+ that (affix), 233
+
+ therewithal, 273
+
+ this three hours, 265
+
+ thorough (= through), 207
+
+ thought(= hoped), 258
+
+ thou's, 178
+
+ thumb, rings for, 186
+
+ tidings (number), 241
+
+ timeless, 271
+
+ 't is an ill cook, etc., 252
+
+ Titan, 204
+
+ toes, 190
+
+ to-night (= last night), 185, 207
+
+ torch-bearer, 182, 237
+
+ towards (= ready), 195
+
+ toy (= caprice), 252
+
+ trencher, 188
+
+ tried (= proved), 254
+
+ truckle-bed, 198
+
+ tutor me from, 219
+
+ two and forty hours, 249
+
+ two hours (of a play), 166
+
+ two may keep counsel, 214
+
+ Tybalt, 207
+
+
+ unattainted, 176
+
+ uncomfortable, 259
+
+ uneven (= indirect), 247
+
+ unfirm, 266
+
+ unkind (accent, etc.), 270
+
+ unmanned, 227
+
+ unsavoury, 270
+
+ unstuffed, 205
+
+ untimely (adverb), 223, 273
+
+ up (transposed), 253
+
+ use (tense), 196
+
+ utters (= sells), 264
+
+
+ validity, 233
+
+ vanished, 232
+
+ vanity, 218
+
+ vaulty (heaven), 238
+
+ Verona, 165
+
+ versal, 215
+
+ very (adjective), 222
+
+ view (= appearance), 170
+
+ volume (figurative), 180
+
+ wanton (masculine), 203
+
+ ware (= aware), 169, 200
+
+ was I with you? 211
+
+ weeds (= garments), 263
+
+ well (of the dead), 258, 262
+
+ well said (= well done), 193
+
+ what (= how, why), 191
+
+ what (= who), 194
+
+ wherefore (accent), 200
+
+ who (= which), 169, 188, 233, 242
+
+ wild-goose chase, 211
+
+ will none, 242
+
+ wit, 235, 240
+
+ with (= by), 170, 267
+
+ withal, 169
+
+ wits, five, 185
+
+ worm (in fingers), 186
+
+ wormwood, 178
+
+ worser, 205, 221
+
+ worshipped sun, 169
+
+ worth (= wealth), 218
+
+ wot, 232
+
+ wrought (= effected), 242
+
+
+ yet not, 199
+
+
+ zounds, 220
+
+
+
+
+ROLFE'S ENGLISH CLASSICS
+
+Edited by WILLIAM J. ROLFE, Litt. D.
+
+Each, $0.56
+
+
+ BROWNING'S SELECT POEMS
+
+ Twenty poems (including "Pippa Passes"), with Introduction, Life of
+ Browning, Chronological Table of His Works, List of Books useful in
+ studying them, Critical Comments, and Notes.
+
+ BROWNING'S SELECT DRAMAS
+
+ "A Blot in the 'Scutcheon," "Colombe's Birthday," and "A Soul's
+ Tragedy"--with Introduction, Critical Comments, and Notes.
+
+ GOLDSMITH'S SELECT POEMS
+
+ "The Traveller," "The Deserted Village," and "Retaliation," with
+ Life of Goldsmith, Recollections and Criticisms by Thackeray,
+ Coleman the Younger, Campbell, Forster, and Irving, and Notes.
+
+ GRAY'S SELECT POEMS
+
+ The "Elegy," "The Bard," "The Progress of Poesy," and other Poems,
+ with Life of Gray, William Howitt's Description of Stoke-Pogis, and
+ historical, critical, and explanatory Notes.
+
+ MACAULAY'S LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME
+
+ With the Author's Preface and Introductions, Criticisms by John
+ Stuart Mill, Henry Morley, "Christopher North," and others,
+ historical and explanatory Notes, and copious Illustrations.
+
+ MILTON'S MINOR POEMS
+
+ All of Milton's Minor Poems except the Translations, with
+ biographical and critical Introductions, and historical and
+ explanatory Notes.
+
+ WORDSWORTH'S SELECT POEMS
+
+ Seventy-one Poems, with Life, Criticisms from Matthew Arnold, R.H.
+ Hutton, Principal Shairp, J.R. Lowell, and Papers of the Wordsworth
+ Society, and very full Notes. Illustrated by Abbey, Parsons, and
+ other eminent artists.
+
+
+AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+NEW ROLFE SHAKESPEARE
+
+Edited by WILLIAM J. ROLFE, Litt.D.
+
+40 volumes, each, $0.56
+
+
+The popularity of Rolfe's Shakespeare has been extraordinary. Since its
+first publication in 1870-83 it has been used more widely, both in
+schools and colleges, and by the general reading public, than any
+similar edition ever issued. It is to-day the standard annotated edition
+of Shakespeare for educational purposes.
+
+¶ As teacher and lecturer Dr. Rolfe has been constantly in touch with
+the recent notable advances made in Shakespearian investigation and
+criticism; and this revised edition he has carefully adjusted to present
+conditions.
+
+¶ The introductions and appendices have been entirely rewritten, and now
+contain the history of the plays and poems; an account of the sources of
+the plots, with copious extracts from the chronicles and novels from
+which the poet drew his material; and general comments by the editor,
+with selections from the best English and foreign criticism.
+
+¶ The notes are very full, and include all the historical, critical, and
+illustrative material needed by the teacher, as well as by the student,
+and general reader. Special features in the notes are the extent to
+which Shakespeare is made to explain himself by parallel passages from
+his works; the frequent Bible illustrations; the full explanations of
+allusions to the manners and customs of the period; and descriptions of
+the localities connected with the poet's life and works.
+
+¶ New notes have also been substituted for those referring to other
+volumes of the edition, so that each volume is now absolutely complete
+in itself. The form of the books has been modified, the page being made
+smaller to adjust them to pocket use.
+
+
+AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+A HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE
+
+By REUBEN POST HALLECK, M.A. (Yale), Louisville Male High School. Price,
+$1.25
+
+
+Halleck's history of english literature traces the development of that
+literature from the earliest times to the present in a concise,
+interesting, and stimulating manner. Although the subject is presented
+so clearly that it can be readily comprehended by high school pupils,
+the treatment is sufficiently philosophic and suggestive for any student
+beginning the study.
+
+¶ The book is a history of literature, and not a mere collection of
+biographical sketches. Only enough of the facts of an author's life are
+given to make students interested in him as a personality, and to show
+how his environment affected his work. Each author's productions, their
+relations to the age, and the reasons why they hold a position in
+literature, receive adequate treatment.
+
+¶ One of the most striking features of the work consists in the way in
+which literary movements are clearly outlined at the beginning of each
+chapter. Special attention is given to the essential qualities which
+differentiate one period from another, and to the animating spirit of
+each age. The author shows that each period has contributed something
+definite to the literature of England.
+
+¶ At the end of each chapter a carefully prepared list of books is given
+to direct the student in studying the original works of the authors
+treated. He is told not only what to read, but also where to find it at
+the least cost. The book contains a special literary map of England in
+colors.
+
+
+AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+THE MASTERY OF BOOKS
+
+By HARRY LYMAN KOOPMAN, A.M., Librarian of Brown University. Price, 90
+cents
+
+
+In this book Mr. Koopman, whose experience and reputation as a librarian
+give him unusual qualifications as an adviser, presents to the student
+at the outset the advantages of reading, and the great field of
+literature open to the reader's choice. He takes counsel with the
+student as to his purpose, capacities, and opportunities in reading, and
+aims to assist him in following such methods and in turning to such
+classes of books as will further the attainment of his object.
+
+¶ Pains are taken to provide the young student from the beginning with a
+knowledge, often lacking in older readers, of the simplest literary
+tools--reference books and catalogues. An entire chapter is given to the
+discussion of the nature and value of that form of printed matter which
+forms the chief reading of the modern world--periodical literature.
+Methods of note-taking and of mnemonics are fully described; and a
+highly suggestive and valuable chapter is devoted to language study.
+
+¶ One of the most valuable chapters in the volume to most readers is
+that concerning courses of reading. In accordance with the author's new
+plan for the guidance of readers, a classified list of about fifteen
+hundred books is given, comprising the most valuable works in reference
+books, periodicals, philosophy, religion, mythology and folk-lore,
+biography, history, travels, sociology, natural sciences, art, poetry,
+fiction, Greek, Latin, and modern literatures. The latest and best
+editions are specified, and the relative value of the several works
+mentioned is indicated in notes.
+
+
+AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+COMPOSITION-RHETORIC
+
+By STRATTON D. BROOKS, Superintendent of Schools, Boston, Mass., and
+MARIETTA HUBBARD, formerly English Department, High School, La Salle,
+Ill. Price, $1.00
+
+
+The fundamental aim of this volume is to enable pupils to express their
+thoughts freely, clearly, and forcibly. At the same time it is designed
+to cultivate literary appreciation, and to develop some knowledge of
+rhetorical theory. The work follows closely the requirements of the
+College Entrance Examination Board, and of the New York State Education
+Department.
+
+¶ In Part One are given the elements of description, narration,
+exposition, and argument; also special chapters on letter-writing and
+poetry. A more complete and comprehensive treatment of the four forms of
+discourse already discussed is furnished in Part Two. In each part is
+presented a series of themes covering these subjects, the purpose being
+to give the pupil inspiration, and that confidence in himself which
+comes from the frequent repetition of an act. A single new principle is
+introduced into each theme, and this is developed in the text, and
+illustrated by carefully selected examples.
+
+¶ The pupils are taught how to correct their own errors, and also how to
+get the main thought in preparing their lessons. Careful coördination
+with the study of literature and with other school studies is made
+throughout the book.
+
+¶ The modern character of the illustrative extracts can not fail to
+interest every boy and girl. Concise summaries are given following the
+treatment of the various forms of discourse, and toward the end of the
+book there is a very comprehensive and compact summary of grammatical
+principles. More than usual attention is devoted to the treatment of
+argument.
+
+
+AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+HISTORY OF ENGLISH AND AMERICAN LITERATURE
+
+By CHARLES F. JOHNSON, L.H.D., Professor of English Literature, Trinity
+College, Hartford. Price, $1.25
+
+
+A text-book for a year's course in schools and colleges, in which
+English literary history is regarded as composed of periods, each marked
+by a definite tone of thought and manner of expression. The treatment
+follows the divisions logically and systematically, without any of the
+perplexing cross divisions so frequently made. It is based on the
+historic method of study, and refers briefly to events in each period
+bearing on social development, to changes in religious and political
+theory, and even to advances in the industrial arts. In addition, the
+book contains critiques, general surveys, summaries, biographical
+sketches, bibliographies, and suggestive questions. The examples have
+been chosen from poems which are generally familiar, and of an
+illustrative character.
+
+
+JOHNSON'S FORMS OF ENGLISH POETRY
+
+$1.00
+
+This book contains nothing more than every young person should know
+about the construction of English verse, and its main divisions, both by
+forms and by subject-matter. The historical development of the main
+divisions is sketched, and briefly illustrated by representative
+examples; but the true character of poetry as an art and as a social
+force has always been in the writer's mind. Only the elements of prosody
+are given. The aim has been not to make the study too technical, but to
+interest the student in poetry, and to aid him in acquiring a
+well-rooted taste for good literature.
+
+
+AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ +------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ | Transcriber's notes: |
+ | |
+ | Fixed various punctuation. |
+ | P.73. 'thorough the ear' is in another volume, keeping. |
+ | P.143. 'Some villanous shame' is in another volume, keeping. |
+ | P.191. 'iustly' means 'justly' but not changed as other words |
+ | in this poem are the same, 'i' for 'j'. |
+ | P.199. 'Gf.' changed to 'Cf.'. |
+ | P.255. v. 'i.' 12, changed to v. '1.' 12,. |
+ | P.236. 'ii. i. 102:' changed to 'ii. 1. 102:'. |
+ | P.288. 'happpy' changed to 'happy'. |
+ | Both words 'loggerhead' and 'logger-head' are present, leaving. |
+ | Both words 'a-bed' and 'abed' are present, leaving. |
+ | Note: underscores to surround _italic text_. |
+ +------------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHAKESPEARE'S TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET ***
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