Enter old Montague, and lady Montague. Mon. Thou villain, Capulet Hold me not, let me go. La. Mon. Thou shalt not ftir a foot to feek a foe. Enter Prince, with attendants. Prin. Rebellious Subjects, enemies to peace, Have thrice difturb'd the Quiet of our streets; Caft by their grave, befeeming, ornaments; Cankred with peace, to part your cankred hate; [Exeunt Prince and Capulet, &c. 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 worfhipp'd Sun (2) Peer'd through the golden window of the Eaft, A troubled mind drew me to walk abroad: Where underneath the grove of fy camour, That weftward rooteth from the City fide, So early walking did I fee your fon. Tow'rds 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 moft are bufied when they're moft alone,) Pursued my humour, not purfuing him; (3) And gladly fhun'd, who gladly fled from me. Mon. Many a morning hath he there been feen Should, in the fartheft eaft, begin to draw (2) an hour before the worship'd Sun Peer'd thro' the golden Window of the Eaft, A troubled Mind drew me from Company :] This is a Reading only of Mr. Pope's, as far as I can trace, who had a mind to make Benvolio a greater Rake than we have Reason to think him from any fubfequent Instance. What, in Company an Hour before Daylight? What odd kind of Companions muft this Benvolio have conforted with? This Reading very reasonably feduced Mr. Warburton into an ingenious Conjecture; A troubled mind drew me from Canopy : i. c. from Bed. But I have reftor'd the Text of all the old Copies. Benvolio, being troubled and not able to fleep, rofe an Hour before Day and went into the open Air to amuse himself. (3) Purfued my humour, not pursuing his.] But Benvolio did pursue his; for Romeo had a Mind to be alone, fo had Benvolio: and therefore as Dr. Thirlby accurately obferves, we ought to correct, He did not purfue Romeo. And makes himself an artificial night. Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? Is to himself, I will not fay, how true; As is the bud bit with an envious worm, (4) Could we but learn from whence his forrows grow, We would as willingly give Cure, as know. Enter Romeo. Ben. See, where he comes': fo please you, step afide, I'll know his grievance, or be much deny'd. Mon. I would, thou wert fo happy by thy Stay To hear true fhrift. Come, Madam, let's away. [Exe. Ben. Good morrow, cousin. Rom. Is the day so young? Ben. But new ftruck nine. Rom. Ah me, fad hours feem long! Was that my father, that went hence so fast? (4) As is the Bud, bit with an envious Worm, Ere he can fpread his fweet Leaves to the Air, Sure, all the Or dedicate his Beauty to the Same.] To the fame? Lovers of Shakespeare and Poetry will agree, that this is a very idle, draging Parapleromatic, as the Grammarians ftyle it. But our Author generally in his Similies is accurate in the cloathing of them, and therefore, I believe, would not have overcharg'd this fo infipidly. When we come to confider, that there is fome power elfe befides balmy Air, that brings forth, and makes the tender Buds spread themselves, I do not think it improbable that the Poet wrote; Or dedicate his Beauty to the Sun. Or, according to the more obfolete Spelling, Sunne; which brings it nearer to the Traces of the corrupted Text. I propos'd this conjectural Emendation in the Appendix to my SHAKESPEARE reford, and Mr. Pope has embraced it in his last Edition. Ben. Ben. It was: what sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Rom. Not having That, which, having, makes them fhort. Ben. In love? Rom. Out. Ben. Of love? Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be fo tyrannous and rough in proof! Rom. Alas, that love, whofe view is muffled ftill, Should without eyes fee path-ways to his will! Where fhall we dine? here? O me! Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. What fray was Here's much to do with hate, but more with love: O heavy lightnefs! ferious vanity! Mif-fhapen chaos of well-feeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, fick health! Still-waking fleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Doft thou not laugh? Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Rom. Good heart, at what? Ben. At thy good heart's oppreffion. Rom. Why, fuch is Love's Tranfgreffion.- Ben. Soft, I'll go along. And if you leave me fo, you do me wrong. Rom. Tut! I have loft my felf, I am not here; [Going. This is not Romeo, he's fome other where. Ben. Groan? why, no; but fadly tell me, who. In fadness, coufin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aim'd fo near, when I fuppos'd you lov'd. love. and fhe's fair, I Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is foonest hit. fhe'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow; fhe hath Dian's wit: And, in ftrong proof of chastity well arm'd, That when the dies, with her dies Beauty's Store. (5) Cuts beauty off from all pofterity. She is too fair, too wife; wifely too fair, Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. 'Examine other Beauties. Rom. 'Tis the way (5) That, when he dies, with Beauty dies her Store.] This conveys no fatisfactory Idea to me. I have ventur'd at a flight Tranfpofition, which gives a Meaning, warranted, I think, by what Romeo fays in his very next Speech. She is rich in Beauty, and if the dies a Maid, she cuts off that Beauty from its Succeffion. For Beauty, ftarv'd with her Severity, Το |