Or, if I live, is it not very like,

The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place,-
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies fest'ring in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort ;—
Or, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Environed with all these hideous fears,

And madly play with my forefathers' joints?
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
And in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?—
O, look! methinks, I see my cousin's ghost
Seeking out Romeo:-Stay, Tybalt, stay!—
Romeo, I come: This do I drink to thee.-

[Drinks the contents of the phial.
O potent draught, thou hast chill'd me to the heart!—
My head turns round:- my senses fail me.—

O, Romeo! Romeo!—

[She throws herself on the bed.

The last act contains the climax of the whole, and we may remark, that the additions made by the modern patchers of the Drama, have here a

happier effect than the original, and affords the Heroine a fine opportunity of displaying some of the greatest traits of her genius. Her exquisite joy on waking from her trance, and finding Romeo beside her, succeeded by her poignant grief on learning he had swallowed poison: her efforts and expression as she assists him, while he becomes gradually affected by the operation of the baneful drug on his frame, and the increasing support she endeavours to lend him, till he sinks at last a lifeless corpse, are finely wound up in her closely clinging to the body, and falling with it to the ground, as if her delicate form were overpowered, by the weight which she was never tired of supporting. In this she shewed the finest possible conception, and produced the ne plus ultra of stage effect. So interesting is this part, that we cannot avoid presenting it to the reader.

Romeo. Here lies Juliet. O,

my love, my wife!
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.

C 2

O, Juliet, why art thou yet so fair?

Here, here

Will I set up my everlasting rest;

And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars

From this world-wearied flesh.

Come, bitter conduct, come unsavoury guide!

[Takes out the poison.

Thou, desperate pilot, now at once run on

The dashing rocks my sea-sick weary bark!—
No more, here's to my love!—

[Drinks the draught.

Eyes, look your last!

Arms take your last embrace? and, lips, do you
The doors of breath seal with a righteous kiss!-

Soft!-she breathes, and stirs.

Jul. Where am I? Defend me, powers!

[JULIET wakes.

Rom. She speaks, she lives, and we shall still be bless'd;

My kind propitious stars o'erpay me now

For all my sorrows past. Rise, rise, my Juliet ;

And from this cave of death, this house of horror,

Quick let me snatch thee to thy Romeo's arms;
There breathe a vital spirit in thy lips,

And call thee back, my soul, to life and love.

[Raises her.

Jul. Bless me, how cold it is !-Who's there?

Rom. Thy husband;

'Tis thy Romeo, Juliet, raised from despair

To joys unutterable.-Quit, quit this place,

And let us fly together.

[Brings her from the tomb.

Jul. Why do you force me so ?—I'll ne'er consent;-

My strength may fail me, but my will's unmoved;

I'll not wed Paris ;-Romeo is my husband.

Rom. Romeo is thy husband! I am that Romeo ;

Nor all the opposing powers of earth or man

Shall break our bonds, or tear thee from my heart.

Jul. I know that voice ;—its magic sweetness wakes

My tranced soul:-I now remember well
Each circumstance.

O my lord, my husband!

Dost thou avoid me, Romeo?

You fright me :-Speak :-O, let me hear some voice

Besides my own, in this drear vault of death,

Or I shall faint.--Support me

Rom. O, I cannot ;

I have no strength; but want thy feeble aid.

Cruel poison!

Jul. Poison! What means my lord? Thy trembling voice,

Pale lips, and swimming eyes,-Death's in thy face.

Rom. It is indeed; I struggle with him now;

The transports that I felt

To hear thee speak, and see thy opening eyes,
Stopp'd, for a moment, his impetuous course,

And all my mind was happiness and thee;
But now the poison rushes through my veins;
I have not time to tell,-

Fate brought me to this place, to take a last,
Last farewell of my love, and with thee die.
Jul. Die ?-Was the friar false?

Rom. I know not that.

I thought thee dead; distracted at the sight,-
O fatal speed !-drank poison,-kiss'd thy lips,
And found within thy arms a precious grave :-
But, in that moment,-O!-

Jul. And did I wake for this!

"Twixt death and love l'am torn, I am distracted :

But death's strongest :-And must I leave thee, Juliet!

O, cruel, cursed fate! in sight of Heaven,—

Jul. Thou ravest; lean on my breast.

Rom. Fathers have flinty hearts, no tears can melt 'em :Nature pleads in vain; children must be wretched.

Jul. O, my breaking heart!

---

Rom. She is my wife, our hearts are twined together,Capulet, forbear;-Paris, loose your hold ;—

Pull not our heart-strings thus ;-they crack,-they break,O, Juliet! Juliet !

[Dies.

The distraction that marks the concluding scene, is no less admirable, when to the Friar's attempts at consolation she replies,

"Patience!

Talk'st thou of patience to a wretch like me ?"