ROMEO AND JULIET. LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. IN 1562 Mr. Arthur Brooke published a poem on "The Tragicall Historie of Romeus and Juliett ;" the materials for which he chiefly obtained from a French translation (by Boisteau) of an Italian novel by Luigi da Porto, a Venetian gentleman, who died in 1529. A prose translation of Boisteau's work was also published 1576, by Paister, in his Palace of Pleasure, vol. II.; and upon the incidents of these two works, especially of the poem, Malone decides that Shakspeare constructed his entertaining tragedy. Dr. Johnson has declared this play to be "one of the most pleasing of Shakspeare's performances:" but it contains some breaches of irregularity--. many superfluities, tumid conceits, and bombastic ideas, inexcusable even in a lover; with a continued recurrence of jingling periods and trifling quibbles, which obscure the sense, or disgust the reader. Several of the characters are, however, charmingly designed, and not less happily executed; the catastrophe is intensely affecting; the incidents various and expressive; and as the passion which it delineates is one of universal acceptance in the catalogue of human wishes, the tinder-like character of the lady, and the notable constancy of the gentleman, are forgotten in the dangers and the calamities of both. The numerous rhymes which occur, are probably seedlings from Arthur Brooke's stock plant. "The nurse (says Dr. Johnson) is one of the characters in which Shakspeare delighted: he has, with great subtilty of distinction, drawn her at once loquacious and secret, obsequious and insolent, trusty and dishonest." ESCALUS, Prince of Verona. DRAMATIS PERSONE. PARIS, a young Nobleman, Kinsman to the MONTAGUE, Heads of two Houses at vari- AN OLD MAN, Uncle to Capulet. BENVOLIO, Nephew to Montague, and Friend TYBALT, Nephew to Lady Capulet. SAMPSON, Servants to Capulet. ABRAM, Servant to Montague. CHORUS.-Box, Puge to Paris.-PETER, an LADY MONTAGUE, Wife to Montague. Citizens of Verona; several Men and SCENE, during the greater part of the Play, in Verona: once, in the fifth Act, at Mantua. Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the Down with the Capulets! down with the Mon weakest goes to the wall. Sum. True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall:therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall. Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and us their men. Sam. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids; I will cut off their heads. Gre. The beads of the maids? Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt. Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it. Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. Gre. 'Tis well, thou art not fish: if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. * Draw thy tool; here comes two of the house of the Mon. tagues. Enter ABRAM and BALTHAZER. tagues! come And flourishes his blade in spite of me. Enter MONTAGUE, and LADY MONTAGUE. Mon. Thou villain, Capulet,-Hold me not, let me go. La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek Enter PRINCE, with Attendants. That quench the fire of your pernicions rage Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will On pain of torture, from those bloody hands back thee. Gre. How? turn thy back, and run? Sam. Fear me not. Gre. No, marry: I fear thee! Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. Gre. I will frown as I pass by: and let them take it as they list. Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, Sir? Sam. No, Sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, Gre. Do you quarrel, Sir? Abr. Quarrel, Sir? no, Sir. Sam. If you do, Sir, I am for you; I serve as good a man as you. Abr. No better. Sam. Well, Sir Enter BENVOLIO, at a Distance. Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground, And hear the sentence of your moved prince.- [Exeunt PRINCE and Attendants; CAPU LET, LADY CAPULET, TYBALT, CITI- Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? Gre. Say-better; here comes one of my And your's, close fighting ere I did approach: master's kinsmen. Sam. Yes, better, Sir. Abr. You lie. Sam. Draw, if you be men.-Gregory, remember thy smashing blow. [They fight. Ben. Part, fools; put up your swords; you know not what you do. [Beats down their Swords. Enter TYBALT. Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. I drew to part them; in the instant came part, Till the prince came, who parted either part. Right glad I am, he was not at his fray. Ben. I do but keep the peace; put up thy Peer'd through the golden window of the east, sword, Or manage it to part these men with me. A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate That westward rooteth from the city's side, the word, As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: So early walking did I see your son: [They fight.!, measuring his affections by my own, Enter several Partizans of both Houses, who That nost are busied when they are most alone, join the Fray: then enter CITIZENS with And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his, But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure, as know. Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step aside: I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. Mon. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift,-Come, madam, let's away. [Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY. Ben. Good morrow, cousin. Rom. Is the day so young? Ben. But new struck nine. Rom. Ah me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went bence so fast? Ben. It was:-What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Rom. Not having that, which having, makes them short. Ben. Iu love? Rom. OutBen. Of love? Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muttled still. Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine ?-0 me!-What fray was here? Yet tell not, for I have heard it all. Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee? Ben. Groan? why, no; But sadly tell me, who. Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make 's will: Ah word ill urg'd to one that is so ill!- Rom. A right good marksman !-And she's fair I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; She will not stay the siege of loving terms, live chaste? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty, starv'd with her severity, Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. Rom. O teach me how I should forget to think. Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes : Examine other beauties. Rom. 'Tis the way To call her's exquisite, in question more: He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget [love: Here's much to do with hate, but more with health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!- Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Rom. Good heart, at what? Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. Rom. Why, such is love's transgression.Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; Which thou wilt propagate, to have it press'd With more of thine: this love, that thou hast shown, Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. [Going. Ben. Soft, I will go along; And if you leave me so, you do me wrong. Rom, Tut, I have lost myself; I am not SCENE II-A Street. Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and SERVANT. Cap. And Montague is bound as well as 1, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace. Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both; My child is yet a stranger in the world, Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she; A compliment to Queen Elizabeth, in whose reign the play was first represented. [Exit. Such as I love; and you, among the store, [more. not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel Of limping winter treads, even such delight none. Come, go with me;-Go, Sirrab, trudge about My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning, Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's And these,-who often drown'd could never die,- Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else be- Herself pois'd with herself in either eye: best. One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish ; Take thou some new infection to thy eye, that. Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good fellow. Serv. God gi' good e'en.-I pray, Sir, can you read? Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. book: But I pray, can you read any thing you see? Enter Lady CAPULET and NURSE. La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve bade her come.-What, lamb! what, ladyyear old,[bird!God forbid !-where's this girl?-what, Juliet ! Enter JULIET. Jul. How now, who calls? La. Cup. This is the matter:-Nurse, give We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again; Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age. hoar. La. Cap She's not fourteen. Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four, Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the lan-She is not fourteen: How long is it now guage. Serv. Ye say honestly; Rest you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reads. To Lammas tide? La, Cap. A fortnight, and odd days. teen. Signior Martino, and his wife and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Susan and she,-God rest all Christian souls!Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, Were of an age.-Well, Susan is with God; and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle She was too good for ine: But, as I said, Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena. On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen ; A fair assembly; [Gives back the Note.] Whither Of all the days of the year, upon that day: Serv. To supper; to our house. should they come? Serv. Up. Rom. Whither? Rom. Whose house? Serv. My master's. Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you before. that My Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be • To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare is to postess, + Estimation. For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, To crack a bottle, is still a cant phrase. 1 Weighed. 1 Scarcely. To my sorrow. i 1. e. I have a perfect recollection. |