a I will be cruel with the maids;] The quarto of 1599, that of 1609, and the folio, 1623, which was printed from it, concur in reading civill. The correction appears in a quarto edition without date, published by John Smethwicke, "at his shop in Sainte Dunstanes Church, in Fleete Street, under the Dyall." Smethwicke also published the quarto, 1609; and the undated edition, which contains several important corrections of previous typographical errors, was probably issued soon after.

b Poor John.] The fish called hake, an inferior sort of cod, when dried and salted, was probably the staple fare of servants and the indigent during Lent; and this sorry dish is perpetually ridiculed by the old writers as poor John."

66

e I will bite my thumb at them] This contemptuous action, though obsolete in this country, is still in use both in France and Italy; but Mr. Knight is mistaken in supposing it identical with what is called giving the fico. Biting the thumb is performed by biting the thumb nail; or, as Cotgrave describes it, "by putting the thumbe naile into the mouth, and with a jerke (from the

(†) Old copies, except the undated quarto, washing.
(1) First folio, draw.

upper teeth) make it to knacke." The more offensive gesticulation of giving the fico was by thrusting out the thumb between the fore-fingers, or putting it in the mouth so as to swell out the cheek.

& Remember thy swashing blow.] To swash perhaps originally meant, as Barret in his " Alvearie," 1580, describes it, "to make a noise with swords against tergats;" but swashing blow here, as in Jonson's "Staple of News," Act V. Sc. 2, "I do confess a swashing blow," means evidently a smashing, crushing blow.

e Enter several Followers, &c.] A modern direction. The old copies have merely-"Enter three or four citizens with clubs or partysons."

f Clubs, bills, and partizans!-] Shakespeare, whose wont it is to assimilate the customs of all countries to those of his own, puts the ancient call to arms of the London 'prentices in the mouth of the Veronese citizen.

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 a foe.(2)

Enter PRINCE, with Attendants.

PRIN. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-
Will they not hear?-what ho! you men, you
beasts,-

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 mis-temper'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,
To wield old partizans, 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 farther pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
[Exeunt PRINCE and Attendants; CAPULET,
LADY CAPULET, TYBALT, Citizens, and Servants.
MON. Who set this ancient quarrel new
abroach?-

Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began?

BEN. 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, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the prince came, who parted either part. LA. MON. O, where is Romeo!-saw you him to-day?

Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.
BEN. 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 this city's side,―
So early walking did I see your son:
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,-
That most are busied when they are most alone,"—
Pursued my humour, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

MON. Many a morning hath he there been seen,b
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs:
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 the cause remove.
may
BEN. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
MON. I neither know it, nor can learn of him.
BEN. Have you impórtun'd him by any means?
MON. 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.

Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure, as know.

"And makes himself an artificial night," are first found in the quarto of 1599. Benvolio's inquiry, "Have you impórtun'd him by any means?"

and the reply, are likewise wanting in the first quarto.

c His beauty to the sun.] The old editions have same. The emendation was made by Theobald.

ROM. Out of her favour, where I am in love.(3) BEN. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

ROM. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will !a Where shall we dine ?-O me!-What fray was here?

Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
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;

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd," a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with loving tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.
BEN.
Soft, I will go along;
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
ROM. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he's some otherwhere.

(*) First folio, well seeing.

[Going.

a See pathways to his will!] This is obscure. The earliest quarto, that of 1597, has,

"Should without lawes give path-waies to our will." And this may help us to the true reading, which very probably

was:

"Should without eyes set pathways to our will;"

in other words, "Make us walk in any direction he chooses to appoint."

b Being purg'd,-] Johnson suggested, and not without reason, that purg'd might be a misprint for urg'd. "To urge the fire," he observes, "is the technical term." Mr. Collier's corrector, with equal plausibility, changes purg'd to puff'd.

BEN. Tell me in sadness, who is that
you love?
ROM. What, shall I groan, and tell thee?
BEN.
Groan? why, no;

But sadly tell me, who.

ROM. Bid* a sick man in sadness maket his
will:-

A word ill urg'd to one that is so ill !—
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

BEN. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd.
ROM. A right good mark-man!-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; 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, 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.(4) BEN. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live chaste?

ROM. 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,
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.

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.(5)
'Tis the way

ROM.

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:
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.
BEN. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
[Exeunt.

(*) First folio omits bid. (+) First folio, makes.
(1) First folio, bid.

e She lives unharm'd.] So the quarto of 1597. The subsequent quartos and the folio, 1623, read "uncharm'd."

d With beauty dies her store.] The reading of all the ancient copies, which Theobald altered to "with her dies beauty's store."

• To call hers, exquisite, in question more:] This is generally conceived to refer to the beauty of Rosaline. It may mean, how. ever, "that is only the way to throw doubt upon any other beauty I may see;" an interpretation countenanced by the after lines:"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?"

CAP. 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.

PAR. 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? CAP. 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,

(*) First folio omits But.

a And Servant.] The old editions have,-"Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne." By Clown was meant the merryman; and a character of this description was so general in the plays of Shakespeare's early period, that his title here ought perhaps to be retained.

She is the hopeful lady of my earth:] A gallicism. Steevens

Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

PAR. Younger than she are happy mothers made. CAP. And too soon marr'd are those so early

made.*

b

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, (6)
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

(*) The first quarto, 1597, reads married.

(t) First folio omits The.

says, Fille de terre being the French phrase for an heiress. But Shakespeare may have meant by, "my earth," my corporal part, as in his 146th Sonnet,

"Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth."

ACT I.]

a

Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light: a
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,
And like her most, whose merit most shall be:
Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one,
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Come, go with me.—Go, sirrah, [to Serv.] trudge

about

Through fair Verona; find those persons out, Whose names are written there, [gives a paper.] and to them say,

My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS.

SERV. 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 fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose names are heret 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.

BEN. 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,
And the rank poison of the old will die.

ROM. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.
BEN. For what, I pray thee?
ROM.
For your broken shin.
BEN. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
ROM. Not mad, but bound more than a mad-
man is:

Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd, and tormented, and-God den, good fellow.
SERV. God ye good den.-I pray, sir, can you
read?

ROм, Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.

nonsense, and the latter,

-that make dark heaven's light." Mr. Knight adheres to the old reading, "as passages in the masquerade scene would seem to indicate that the banqueting room opened into a garden." A better reason for abiding by the original text is to consider that the "dark heaven," in Shakespeare's mind, was most probably the Heaven of the stage, hung, as was the custom during the performance of tragedy, with black.

b Such, amongst view of many,-] The reading of the quarto, 1597. The quarto, 1599, that of 1609, and the folio, 1623, have, "Which one more view," &c. Neither reading affords a clear sense.

SERV. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book : But I pray, can you read any thing you see? ROM. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language. SERV. Ye say honestly; rest you merry ! Reads. ROм. Stay, fellow; I can read.

SIGNIOR MARTINO, and his wife, and daughter; 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 niece ROSALINE; LIVIA ; SIGNIOR VALENTIO, and his cousin TYBALT; LUCIO, and the lively HELENA.

A fair assembly; [Gives back the note.] Whither should they come?

SERV. Up.c

ROM. Whither to supper ?
SERV. To our house.
ROM. Whose house?
SERV. My master's.

ROM. Indeed, I should have asked you that before. SERV. Now I'll tell you without asking. My 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.

BEN. 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.

ROM. When the devout religion of mine eye
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.

BEN. 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,
And she shall scant show well, that now shows best.
ROM. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. [Exeunt.

(*) Old editions, fire.

(t) First folio, she shew scant shell, well, &c.

e Up.] Is this a misprint for "to sup?"

d Come and crush a cup of wine:] This, like the crack a bottle of later times, was a common invitation of old to a carouse. The following instances of its use, which might be easily multiplied, were collected by Steevens:

"Fill the pot, hostess, &c., and we'll crush it." The Two Angry Women of Abingdon, 1599. we'll crush a cup of thine own country wine." HOFFMAN'S Tragedy, 1631. "Come, George, we'll crush a pot before we part." The Pinder of Wakefield, 1599.

e Your lady's love-] A corruption, I suspect, for "lady-love." It was not Romeo's love for Rosaline, or hers for him, which was to be poised, but the lady herself "against some other maid."