Some fay, the lark and loathed toad change eyes;

O now I would they had chang'd voices too!

2

O now be gone, more light and light it grows.

Rom. More light and light? More dark and dark our Woes.

Nurje. Madam,

Jul. Nurfe?

Enter Nurfe.

Nurfe. Your lady mother's coming to your chamber: The day is broke, be wary, look about. [Exit Nurse. Jul. Then, Window, let Day in, and let Life out. Rom. Farewell, farewell; one Kifs, and I'll defcend. [Romeo defcends. ful. Art thou gone fo? love! lord! ah husband! friend!

I must hear from thee ev'ry day in th' hour,
For in a minute there are many days.
O, by this count I fhall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo. 2012

Rom. Farewel: I will omit no opportunity,

That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
Jul. O think'ft thou, we fhall ever meet again?
Rom. I doubt it not; and all thefe woes fhall ferve (25)
For fweet difcourfes, in our time to come.

Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining foul.
Methinks, I fee thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
Either my eye-fight fails, or thou look'st pale.
Rom. And trust me, love, in mine eye
Dry Sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu.

fo do you:

[Exit Romeo. Jul. Oh fortune, fortune, all men call thee fickle :

And all thefe Woes shall serve

(25) For fweet Difcourfes in our Time to come.] This very thought is express'd by Virgil on a like Occafion;

Forfan & hæc olim meminiffe juvabit.

The learned Taubman in his Note on this paffage has fimilar Quotations.

Eneid. I. v. 203

amafs'd feveral

If thou art fickle, what doft thou with him
That is renown'd for faith? be fickle, fortune:
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But fend him back.

Enter lady Capulet.

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

Jul. Who is't, that calls? is it my lady mother? What unaccustom'd caufe procures her hither?

La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet ?

Jul. Madam, I am not well.

La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your coufin's death? What, wilt thou wash him from his Grave with tears? An if thou could't, thou could'ft not make him live; Therefore, have done. Some Grief fhews much of Love; But much of Grief fhews ftill fome want of Wit. Jul. Yet let me weep for fuch a feeling lofs.

La. Cap. So fhall you feel the Lofs, but not the Friend Which you do weep for.

Jul. Feeling fo the Lofs,

I cannot chufe, but ever weep the Friend.

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

As that the villain lives which flaughter'd him.

Jul. What villain, Madam?

La. Cap. That fame villain, Romeo.

Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder.

God pardon him! I do, with all

my Heart:

And, yet, No Man like He doth grieve my Heart. ⠀
La. Cap. That is, because the Traytor lives.

Jul. I, Madam, from the Reach of these my hands:-
Would, None but I might venge my Coufin's Death!
La. Cap. We will have Vengeance for it, fear Thou

not:

Then weep no more.
I'll fend to one in Mantua,
Where That fame banifh'd Runagate doth live,
Shall give him fuch an unaccustom❜d Dram,
That he fhall foon keep Tybalt Company.
And then, I hope, thou wilt be fatisfy'd.

Jul. Indeed, I never fhall be fatisfied

With Romeo, till I behold him

dead

Is my poor Heart fo for a Kinfman vext.
Madam, if You could find out but a Man
To bear a poyson, I would temper it;
That Romeo fhould upon receipt thereof
Soon fleep in Quiet. O, how my heart abhors
To hear him nam'd, and cannot come to him

To wreak the Love I bore my flaughter'd Coufin,
Upon his body that hath flaughter'd him.

La. Cap. Find Thou the Means, and I'll find fuch a
Man.

But now I'll tell thee joyful Tidings, Girl.

Jul. And joy comes well in fuch a needful time. What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

La. Cap. Well, well, thou haft a careful father, child; One, who, to put thee from thy heaviness,

Hath forted out a fudden day of joy,

That thou expect'ft not, nor I look'd not for.

Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is this?
La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,
The gallant, young and noble Gentleman,

The County Paris, at St. Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee a joyful bride.

Jul. Now, by St. Peter's church, and Peter too,
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.

I wonder at this hafte, that I muit wed

Ere he, that must be husband, comes to wooe.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, Madam,
I will not marry yet: and when I do,

It fhall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,

Rather than Paris.-Thefe are news, indeed!

La. Cap. Here comes your father, tell him fo your felf,

And fee, how he will take it at your hands.

Enter Capulet, and Nurse.

Cap. When the Sun fets, the Air doth drizzle Dew; But for the Sunset of my Brother's Son

It raines downright.

How now? a conduit, girl? what, ftill in tears?

Evermore show'ring? in one little body
Thou counterfeit'ft a bark, a fea, a wind;
For ftill thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
Sailing in this falt flood: the winds thy fighs,
Which, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
Without a fudden calm, will overfet

Thy tempeft-toffed body How now, wife?
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

La. Cap. Ay, Sir; but he will none, the gives you thanks:

I would, the fool were married to her Grave!

Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you, wife. How, will the none? doth the not give us thanks? Is fhe not proud, doth fhe not count her bleft, Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought

So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

Jul. 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.

Cap. How now! how now! Chop Logick? What is This?

Proud! and I thank you! and I thank you not!

And yet not proud!

Why, Mistress Minion, You,
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-fickness-carrion! Out, you baggage! You Tallow-face!

La. Cap. Fie, fie, what are you mad?

Jul. Good father, I beseech you on my knees,

Hear me with Patience, but to speak a word.

Cap. Hang thee, young baggage! difobedient wretch)

I tell thee what, get thee to church o' Thursday,

Or never after look me in the face.

Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;

My fingers itch, Wife, we fcarce thought us bleft,
That God had fent us but this only child;
N

VOL. VII.

But

But now I fee this One is one too much,

And that we have a Curfe in having her:
Out on her, hilding!

Nurfe. God in heaven bless her!

You are to blame, my lord, to rate her fo.

Cap. And why, my lady Wisdom? hold your tongue, Good Prudence, fmatter with your goffips, go.

Nurfe. I fpeak no treason

May not one speak?

O, god-ye-good-den

Cap. Peace, peace, you mumbling fool;

Utter your gravity o'er a goffip's bowl,

For here we need it not.

La. Cap. You are too hot.

Cap. God's bread! it makes me mad: day, night, late, early,

At home, abroad, alone, in company,

Waking, or fleeping, ftill my care hath been
To have her match'd; and having now provided
A gentleman of noble parentage,

Of fair demeans, youthful, and nobly allied,
Stuff'd, as they fay, with honourable parts,
Proportion'd as one's thought would with 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, if you will not wed, I'll pardon you:
Graze where you will, you fhall not houfe with me;
Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jeft.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise;
If you be mine, I'll give you to my friend:

If you be not, hang, beg, ftarve, die i'th' ftreets;
For, by my foul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
Nor what is mine fhall ever do thee good:
Trust to't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn.
Jul. Is there no pity fitting in the clouds,
That fees into the bottom of my grief?
O, fweet my mother, caft me not away,
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed

[Exit.