The plays of william shakespeare.

And never from this Palace of dim night Depart again: Here, here will I remain,

With worms that are thy chamber-maids, oh here
Will I fet up my everlasting Rest;

And shake the yoke of inaufpicious stars

From this world-weary'd flefh. Eyes, look your laff!
Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, oh you
The doors of breath, feal with a righteous kifs
Á datelefs bargain to engroffing death.

Come, bitter conduct! come unfav'ry guide!
Thou defp'rate pilot, now at once run on 7
The dafhing rocks my fea-fick, weary, bark.
Here's to my love? Oh, true apothecary!

[Drinks the poifan. Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kifs I die. [Dies.

6 And never from this Palace
of dim night
Depart again. (Come lie thou
in my Arms
Here's to thy Health. O true
Apothecary!

Thy drugs are quick)] Mr. Pope's, and fome other of the worfer editions acknowledge ab furdly the lines which I have put into parenthesis here; and which I have expung'd from the text, for this reafon : Romeo is made to confefs the effect of the poison before ever he has tafted it. I fuppofe, it hardly was fo favoury that the patient fhould chufe to make two draughts of it. And, eight lines after thefe, we find him taking the poifon in his hands, and making an apostrophe to it; inviting it to perform its office at once; and then, and not 'till then, does he clap it so his lips, or can with any probability

br A

speak of its inftant force and effects. Befides, Shakespeare would hardly have made Romeo drink to the health of his dead Miftress. Though the first quarto in 1599, and the two old folios acknowledge this abfurd ftuff, I find it left out in feveral later quarto impreffions. I ought to take notice, that tho' Mr. Pope has thought fit to stick to the old copies in this addition, yet he is no fair tranfcriber; for he has funk upon us an hemiftich of most profound abfurdity, which poffeffes all thofe copies,

-Come, lie thou in my Arms;
Here's to thy Health, where-
e'er thou tumblest in.
O'true' Apothecary! &c.

THEOBALD. I have no edition but the folio, which has all the paffage here mentioned. I have followed Mr. Theobald.

Enter Friar Lawrence with lanthorn, crow, and spade. Fri. St. Francis be my fpeed! How oft to-night Have my old feet ftumbled at graves? Who's there?

Enter Balthafar.

Balth. Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

Fri. Blifs be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light To grubs and eyelefs fculls? as I difcern,

It burneth in the Capulets' Monument.

Balth. It doth fo, holy Sir,-and there's my master, One that you love.

Fri. Who is it?

Balth. Romeo.

Fri. How long hath he been there?

Balth, Full half an hour.

Fri. Go with me to the vault.

Balth. I dare not, Sir.

My mafter knows not, but I am gone hence,

And fearfully did menace me with death,

If I did ftay to look on his intents.

Fri. Stay then, I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me;

O, much I fear fome ill unlucky thing.

Balth. As I did fleep under this yew tree here, I dreamt, my mafter and another fought,

And that my mafter flew him.

Fri. Romeo!

Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
The ftony entrance of this fepulchre ?
What mean thefe mafterlefs and goary fwords,
To lie difcolour'd by this place of peace?
Romeo! oh pale! Who elfe? what Paris too?
And steep'd in blood? ah, what an unkind hour

Is guilty of this lamentable chance?
The lady ftirs.

Ful [awaking.] Oh comfortable Friar, where is my Lord?

I do remember well, where I thould be,

And there I am. Where is my Romeo ? m

Fri. I hear fome noife! Lady, come from that neft
Of death, contagion, and Unnatural fleep;
A greater Power, than we can contradict,
Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away;
Thy husband in thy bofom there lies dead,
And Paris too-Come, I'll difpofe of thee
Among a fifterhood of holy Nuns.

Stay not to question, for the watch is coming.
Come, go, good Juliet. I dare no longer ftay. [Exit.
Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.
What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand?
Poison, I fee, hath been his timeless end.
O churl, drink all, and leave no friendly drop
To help me after? I will kifs thy lips,
Haply, fome poifon yet doth hang on them;
To make me die with a Reftorative.

Thy lips are warm.

Enter Boy and Watch,

Watch. Lead, boy. Which way?

Jul. Yea, noife?

Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!

[Finding a dagger. This is thy fheath, there ruft and let me die.

[Kills berfelf. Boy. This is the place; there, where the torch doth

burn.

Watch. The ground is bloody. Search about the church-yard;

Go, fome of you, whom e'er you find, attach.

I 4

Pitiful

Pitiful fight! here lies the County flain,
And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, i
Who here hath lain these two days buried.
Go tell the Prince. Run to the Capulets;
7 Raise up the Montagues. Some others: fearch
We fee the Ground whereon thefe Woes do lie:
But the true ground of all these piteous Woes
We cannot without Circumftance descry.

› Enter fome of the Watch, with Balthafar. Cal 2 Watch, Here's Romeo's man, we found him in the church-yard.

1 Watch. Hold him in fafety, 'till the Prince comes hither.

Enter another Watchman with Friar Lawrence.

3 Watch. Here is a Friar that trembles, fighs and weeps.

We took this mattock and this fpade from him, As he was coming from this church-yard fide. 1 Watch. A great fufpicion. Stay the Friar too.

Enter the Prince, and attendants.

Prince. What mifadventure is fo early up, That calls our perfon from our morning's Reft?

Enter Capulet and lady Capulet.

Cap. What fhould it be, that they fo fhriek abroad? La. Cap. The people in the ftreet cry, Romeo? Some, Juliet and fome, Paris; and all run With open out-cry tow'rd our Monument,

Prince. What fear is this, which startles in your ears?

Watch. Sovereign, here lies the County Paris flain, And Romea dead, and Juliet, dead before, Warm and new kill'd.

Prince. Search, seek, and know, how this foul mur-
der comes. of qu6
Watch. Here is a Friar, and flaughter'd Romeo's

With inftruments upon them, fit to open
Thefe dead men's tombs.

A lliw I ____ Cap. Oh, heav'n! oh, wife! look how our daughter bleeds

This dagger hath mifta'en; for, lo! the sheath
Lies empty on the back of Montague,

The point mif-fheathed in my daughter's bofom.
La Cap. Oh me, this fight of death is as a bell,
That warns my old age to a fepulchre.

Prince. Come, Montague, for thou art early up, To fee thy fon and heir now early down.

Man. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; Grief of my fon's exile hath ftopt her breath. What further woe confpires against my age? Prince. Look, and thou fhalt fee.

-lo! the heath Lies empty-] The folio,

-For, lo! his houfe bos empty on the back, &C.*

Mön,

« Previous Continue »

Books