"There were (and that wot I full well) Of pomegranates a full great deal." The "orchard of pomegranates with pleasant fruits" was one of the beautiful objects described by Soloman in his Canticles. Amongst the fruit-bearing trees, the pomegranate is in some respects the most beautiful; and, therefore, in the south of Europe and in the East it has become the chief ornament of the garden. But where did Shakspere find that the nightingale haunted the pomegranate-tree, pouring forth her song from the same bough, week after week? Doubtless in some of the old travels with which he was familiar. Chaucer puts his nightingale "in a fresh green laurel-tree;" but the preference of the nightingale for the pomegranate is unquestionable. The nightingale sings from the pomegranate-groves in the day-time," says Russel in his account of Aleppo. A friend, whose observations as a traveller are as acute as his descriptions are graphic and forcible, informs us that throughout his journeys in the East he never heard such a choir of nightingales as in a row of pomegranate-trees that skirt the road from Smyrna to Boudjia. In the truth of details such as these the genius of Shakspere is as much exhibited as in his wonderful powers of generalization. SCENE V.-" It was the lark, the herald of the morn." Shakspere's power of describing natural objects is unequalled in this beautiful scene, which, as we think, was amongst his very early productions. The Venus and Adonis, published in 1593, is also full of this power. Compare the following passage with the description of morning in the scene before us : "Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest, From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, Who doth the world so gloriously behold, 7 SCENE V.-" Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day." There was one Gray, a maker of "certain merry ballads," who, according to Puttenham in his "Art of English Poesy" (1589), grew into good estimation with Henry VIII., and the Protector Somerset, for the said merry ballads, "whereof one chiefly was, The hunte is up, the bunte is up." Douce thinks he has recovered the identical song, which he reprints. One stanza will, perhaps, satisfy our readers :— which we may properly quote here: "Mark in this scene Shakspere's gentleness in touching the tender superstitions, the terræ incognita of presentiments, in the human mind; and how sharp a line of distinction he commonly draws between these obscure forecastings of general experience in each individual, and the vulgar errors of mere tradition. Indeed, it may be taken, once for all, as the truth, that Shakspere, in the absolute universality of his genius, always reverences whatever arises out of our moral nature; he never profanes his muse with a contemptuous reasoning away of the genuine and general, however unaccountable, feelings of mankind." (Literary Remains, vol. ii. page 174.) --Shakspere has himself given us the key to his philosophy of presentiments. Venus, dreading the death of Adonis by the boar, says "The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed; And fear doth teach it divination; I prophesy thy death." he is under the influence of his habitual melancholy, the sentiment of unrequited love, which colours all his imagination with a gloomy foreshadowing of coming events. In the passage before us, when Juliet sees her husband "As one dead in the bottom of a tomb," we have "the fear" which doth "teach" her heart "divination." But Romeo, in the fifth Act, has a presentiment directly contrary to the approaching catastrophe: and this arises out of his unaccustomed "animal spirits :— "My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne." All these states of mind are common to the imagination deeply stirred by passionate emotions. Nothing, in all Shakspere's philosophy, appears to us finer than the deceiving nature of Romeo's presages in the last Act, as compared with the true-divining fears of Juliet. SCENE I.-Friar Laurence's Cell. Enter Friar LAURENCE and PARIS. very ACT IV. Fri. On Thursday, sir? the time is short. Par. My father Capulet will have it so: And I am nothing slow, to slack his haste." Fri. You say, you do not know the lady's mind; Uneven is the course, I like it not. Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, And therefore have I little talk'd of love : Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. a In (4) the passage is "And I am nothing slack to slow his haste." Jackson conjectures that the to of all the editions should be too. But the meaning is obvious as it stands:- "I am nothing slow, (so as) to slack his haste." Fri. That's a certain text. Par. Come you to make confession to this father? Jul. To answer that, I should confess to you. Par. Do not deny to him, that you love me. Jul. I will confess to you, that I love him. Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me. Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Jul. O, shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me: Past hope, past care, past help! Fri. O Juliet, I already know thy grief; Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd, hope, Which craves as desperate an execution As that is desperate which we would prevent. Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, Or hide me nightly in a charnel-house, A Nine lines, ending with this, are not in (A). In (A), yonder. In (C) and folio, any. O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless skulls; Or bid me go into a new-made grave, And hide me with &. dead man in his shroud;" Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; And I will do it without fear or doubt, consent To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow; a In (D), shroud. In folio. grave. b (4) gives this passage thus: "A dull and heavy slumber, which shall seize Each vital spirit; for no pulse shall keep His natural progress, but surcease to beat." We give the text of (C) and the folio. This speech of the friar, in the author's "amended" edition (B), is elaborated from thirteen lines to thirty-three; and yet the variorum editors have been bold enough even here, to give us a text made up of Shakspere's first thoughts and his last. e In (D), paly. In (C), many. d This line, which is in all the ancient copies, has been left out in all the modern. The editors have here gone far beyond their office;-nor can we understand why the more particular working out of the idea in the next two lines should have given them offence. "Be borne," means "to be borne." Enter CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, NURSE, and Servants. Cap. So many guests invite as here are writ.— [Exit Servant. Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.2 2 Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they can lick their fingers. Cap. How canst thou try them so ? 2 Serv. Marry, sir, 't is an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me. Cap. Go, begone.[Exit Servant. We shall be much unfurnish'd for this time.What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence? Nurse. Ay, forsooth. Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good on her: A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet, To help me sort such needful ornaments Cup. Go, nurse, go with her :-we'll to church to-morrow. [Exeunt JULIET and NURSE. La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision; "Tis now near night. Cap. Tush! I will stir about, And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife: Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her; Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, a (A), Do you need my help? Nurse!-What should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must act alone.Come, phial. 3 What if this mixture do not work at all? To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? Where, for these many hundred years, the bones Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd; So early waking,—what with loathsome smells; a This speech of Juliet, like many others of the great passages throughout the play, received the most careful elaboration and the most minute touching. In the first edition it occupies only eighteen lines; it extends to fortyfive in the "amended" edition of 1599. And yet it was a recent custom to make a patchwork of the two. This line in (4) is thus: "Must I of force be married to the county?" The line which follows lower down "I will not entertain so bad a thought "Steevens says he has recovered from the quarto. We print the eighteen lines of the original, that the reader may see with what consummate skill the author's corrections have been made. "Farewell, God knows when we shall meet again. Our former marriage? Ah, I wrong him much, I will not entertain so bad a thought. That living mortals, hearing them, run mad ;— [She throws herself on the bed. SCENE IV.-Capulet's Hall. Enter Lady CAPULET and NURSE. La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse. Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. Enter CAPULET. Enter Servants, with spits, logs, and baskets. 1 Serv. Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. Cup. Make haste, make haste. [Exil 1 Serv.] -Sirrah, fetch drier logs; Call Peter, he will show thee where they are. 2 Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter. [Exit. Cap. 'Mass, and well said; A merry whoreson! ha, a The ordinary reading is that of (A): "Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee." In the subsequent quartos, and the folio, we have, "Romeo, Romeo, Romeo!-here 's drink-I drink to thee." We think with Mr. Dyce that "here's drink." was the stagedirection of here drink. We do not adopt the first reading, because I come" would seem to imply that Romeo was dead, and Juliet was about to meet him in another world. |