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SCENE IV.

A Room in Capulet's House.
Enter CAPULET, Lady Capulet, and Paris.

Cap. Things have fallen out, sir, so unluckily,
That we have had no time to move our daughter:
Look you, she lov’d her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
And so did I;-Well, we were born to die.-
'Tis very late, she'll not come down to night:
I promise you, but for your company,
I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

Par. These times of woe afford no time to wo: Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter. La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early to

morrow; To-night she's mew'd up to her heaviness.

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender 8 Of my child's love: I think, she will be rul'd In all respects by me; nay more, I doubt it not. Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love; And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday nextBut, soft; What day is this? Par.

Monday, my lord.
Cap. Monday? ha! ha! Well, Wednesday is too

soon,
O'Thursday let it be;-o' Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl:
Will you be ready? do you like this haste?

7 mew'd up-] This is a phrase from falconry. A meru was a place of confinement for hawks.

8 Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender -] Desperate means only bold, adventurous, as if he had said in the vulgar phrase, I will speak a bold word, and venture to promise you my daughter,

We'll keep no great ado;-a friend, or two:
For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
It may be thought we held him carelessly,
Being our kinsinan, if we revel much:
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to-

morrow.
Cap. Well, get you gone:-O'Thursday be it

then:-
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
Farewell, my lord.—-Light to my chamber, ho!
Afore me, it is so very late, that we
May call it early by and by:-Good night.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Juliet's Chamber.

Enter Romeo and Juliet. Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree:: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops;

9 Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree:] This is not merely a poetical supposition. It is observed of the nightingale, that, if undisturbed, she sits and sings upon the same tree for many weeks together.

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone.

Rom. Let me be ta’en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say, yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex' of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care to stay? than will to go;-
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.-
How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.

Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away;
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
Some say, the lark makes sweet division ;:
This doth not so, for she divideth us:
Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
O, now I would they had chang’d voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day. 4
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light?-more dark and

- dark our woes.

the pale reflex_-] The appearance of a cloud opposed to the moon.

% I have more care to stay,-] Care for inclination.

3- sweet division;] Division seems to have been the technical phrase for the pauses or parts of a musical composition.

+ Hunting thee hence with hunts up to the day.] The hunts-up was the name of the tune anciently played to wake the hunters, and collect them together. But a huntsup also signified a morning song to a new-married woman, the day after her marriage, and is used here in that sense.

Enter Nurse. Nurse. Madam! Jul. Nurse? Nurse. Your lady mother's coming to your

chamber: The day is broke; be wary, look about.

Exit Nurse. Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. Rom. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.

Romeo descends. Jul. Art thou gone so? my love! my lord! my

friend!
I must hear from thee every day i'the hour,
For in a minute there are many days:
O! by this count I shall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo.

Rom. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet again?

Rom. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come.

Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining soul:
Methinks, I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.

Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! adieu !

[Exit ROMEO. Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle: If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him That is renown'd for faith?5 Be fickle, fortune;

s That is renown'd for faith?] This Romeo, so renown'd for faith, was but the day before dying for love of another woman : yet this is natural. Romeo was the darling object of Juliet's love, and Romeo was, of course, to have every excellence.

For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
But send him back.

La. Cap. [Within.] Ho, daughter! are you up?

Jul. Who is't that calls ? is it my lady mother? Is she not down so late, or up so early? What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?6

Enter Lady Capulet.
La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet?
Jul.

Madam, I am not well.
La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's

death? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with

tears? An if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him live; Therefore, have done: Some grief shows much of

love; But much of grief shows still some want of wit. .

Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not the

friend Which you weep for. Jul.

Feeling so the loss, I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much

for his death,
As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.

Jul. What villain, madam?
La Cap.

That same villain, Romeo.
Jul. Villain and he are many miles asunder.
God pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart.
La. Cap. That is, because the traitor murderer

lives.

procures her hither?] Procures for brings.

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