Nurfe. Now, afore God, I am so vext, that every part about me quivers Scurvy knave! Pray you, Sir, a word: and as I told you, my young lady bid me enquire you out; what the bid me fay, I will keep to my felf: but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradife, as they fay, it were a very grofs kind of behaviour, as they fay, for the gentlewoman is young; and therefore if you should deal double with her, truly, it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

Rom. Commend me to thy lady and mistress, I proteft unto thee

Nurfe. Good heart, and, i'faith, I will tell her as much: Lord, Lord, the will be a joyful woman.

Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.

Nurfe. I will tell her, Sir, that you do proteft; which, as I take it, is a gentleman-like offer.

Rom. Bid her devife fome means to come to fhrift this afternoon;

And there fhe fhall at friar Lawrence' cell

Be fhriv'd and married: here is for thy pains.
Nurse. No, truly, Sir, not a penny.

Rom. Go to, I say you fhall.

Nurse. This afternoon, Sir? well, fhe fhall be there. Rom. And ftay, good nurfe, behind the abby-wall: Within this hour my man fhall be with thee, And bring thee cords, made like a tackled ftair, Which to the high top-gallant of my joy Must be my convoy in the fecret night. Farewel, be trufty, and I'll quit thy pains. Nurfe. Now, God in heav'n bless thee! hark Rom. What fayeft thou, my dear nurse? Nurfe Is your man fecret? did you ne'er hear say, Two may keep counfel, putting one away?

you, Sir:

Rom. I warrant thee, my man's as true as fteel. Nurfe. Well, Sir, my miftrefs is the fweeteft lady; Lord, Lord! when it was a little prating thing-0,there is a noble man in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good foul, had as lieve fee a

toad,

toad, a very toad, as fee him: I anger her fometimes, and tell her, that Paris is the properer man; but I'll warrant you, when I fay fo, the looks as pale as any cloat in the verfal world. Doth not rosemary and Remeo begin both with a letter?

Rom. Ay, nurse, what of that? both with an R. (18) Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R is for thee? No; I know, it begins with another letter; and she hath the prettieft fententious of it, of you and rofemary, that it would do you good to hear it. Rom. Commend me to thy ladyNurfe. A thousand times. Peter,

Pet, Anon?

Nurfe. Take my fan, and

go

before.

[Exit Romeo.

[Exeunt.

(18) Rom. Ay, nurfe, what of that? Both with an R. Nurfe. Ab, mocker! that's the dog's name. R. is for the no, I know it begins with no other letter.] I believe, I have rectified this odd stuff; but it is a little mortifying, that the sense, when 'tis found out, fhould hardly be worth the pains of retrieving it. The Nurse is represented as a prating filly creature; the fays, fhe will tell Romeo a good joak about his miftrefs, and afks him, whether Rosemary and Romeo do not begin both with a letter: he fays, Yes, an R. She, who, we must fuppofe, could not read, thought he had mock'd her, and fays, No, fure, I know better: our dog's name is R. Your's begins with ano. ther letter. This is natural enough, and very much in character for this infipid, prating creature. R put her in mind of that found which is made by dogs when they fnarl: and therefore, I prefume, the fays, <hat is the dog's name. A quotation from Ben Johnson's Alchemist

will clear up this allufion.

He fhall have a bell, that's Abel;

And, by it ftanding, one whose name is D
In a rug gown; there's D and rug, that's Drug;
And right anenft him a dog fnarling,- -err;
There's Drugger, Abel Drugger

Mr. Warburton

B. Jabnfon again, in defcribing the found of the letters, in his Englife Grammar, fays, R is the dog's letter, and birreth in the found. For this reafon Perfius, the fatirift, called it litera canina :—because the trembling vibration of the tongue in pronouncing it imitates the fnarling of a dog. Quòd tremula linguæ vibratione, canum, quum ringuntur, fonum imitari videatur, fays Rob. Stephens.

Irritata canis quòd RR quam plurima dicat.

Lucilius.

SCENE changes to Capulet's House.

ful. T

Enter Juliet.

HE clock ftruck nine, when I did fand the

nurfe:

In half an hour she promis'd to return.

Perchance, the cannot meet him-That's not fo-
Oh, fhe is lame: love's heralds fhould be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glide than the fun-beams,
Driving back fhadows over lowring hills.
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
And therefore hath the wind-fwift Cupid wings.
Now is the Sun upon the highmoft hill

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

My words would bandy her to my sweet love.
And his to me;

Enter Narfe, with Peter,

O God, fhe comes. O honey nurse, what news?
Haft thou met with him? fend thy man away.
Nurse. Peter, ftay at the gate.
Jul. Now good sweet nurse,

O Lord, why look'ft thou fad?

Tho' news be fad, yet tell them merrily:

[Exit Peter.

If good, thou fham'ft the mufick of sweet news,
By playing 't to me with so four a face.

Nurfe. I am a weary, let me reft a while;

Fy, how my bones ake, what a jaunt have I had? Jul. I would, thou hadst my bones, and I thy news! Nay, come, I pray thee, speak—Good, good nurse, fpeak.

Nurfe. Jefu! what hafte? can you not stay a while? Do you not fee, that I am out of breath? [breath Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou haft To say to me that thou art out of breath?

Th'

Th' excufe, that thou doft make in this delay,
Is longer than the tale thou doft excufe.
Is thy news good or bad? answer to that;
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
Let me be fatisfied, is't good or bad?

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

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

Nurfe. Lord, how my head akes! what a head have I ? It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.

My back, o'th' other fide-O my back, my back:
Befhrew your heart, for fending me about,
To catch my death with jaunting up and down.
Jul. I'faith I'm forry that thou art fo ill.

Sweet, fweet, fweet nurse, tell me what fays my love?
Nurfe. Your love fays like an honeft gentleman,
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome,
And, I warrant, a virtuous-where is your mother?
Jul. Where is my mother?-why she is within;
Where should she be? how oddly thou reply'ft!
Your love fays like an honeft gentleman :
Where is your mother ?.

Nurfe. O, God's lady dear,

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

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

Nurfe. Then hie you hence to friar Lawrence' cell, There ftays a husband to make you a wife.

Now cones the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
They'll be in fcarlet ftraight at any news.

Hie you to church, I muft another way.
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
Must climb a bird's-neft foon, when it is dark.
I am the drudge and toil in your delight,
But you fhall bear the burden foon at night.'
Go, I'll to dinner, hie you to the cell.

Jul. Hie to high fortune;--honest nurse, farewel.

Fri.

S

SCENE changes to the Monaftery:

Enter Friar Lawrence and Romeo.

[Exeunt.

O fmile the heav'ns upon this holy act,

That after-hours with forrow chide us not! Rom. Amen, Amen! but come what forrow can, It cannot countervail th' exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her fight: Do thou but clofe our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. Thefe violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, Which, as they meet, confume. The fweeteft honey Is loathsome in its own delicioufnefs,

And in the taste confounds the appetite :

Therefore love moderately, long love doth fo:
Too swift arrives as tardy as too flow.

Enter Juliet.

Here comes the lady. O, fo light a foot

Will ne'er wear out the everlafling flint;
A lover may beftride the goffamour,
That idles in the wanton fummer air,
And yet not fall, fo light is vanity.

Jul. Good even to my ghoftly confeffor.

Fri. Romeo fhall thank thee, daughter, for us both. Jul. As much to him, elfe are his thanks too much. Rom. Ah! Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more VOL. VIII.

C

To