Had part in this fair maid; now Heav'n hath ali;
And all the better is it for the maid.

Your part in her you could not keep from death,
But Heav'n keeps his part in eternal life.
The most, you fought, was her promotion;
For 'twas your heaven, she should be advanc'd ::
And weep you now, feeing she is advanc'd,
Above the clouds, as high as Heav'n himself?
Oh, in this love you love your child so ill,
That you run, mad, seeing, that she is well..
She's not well married, that lives married long;
But she's best married, that dies married young.
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
On this fair coarse; and, as the custom is,
And in her best array, bear her to church.
For tho' fond Nature bids us all lament, (27)
Yet Nature's tears are Reason's merriment.

Cap. All things, that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral;
Our instruments to melancholy bells,
Our wedding chear to a fad funeral feast;;
Our folemn hymns to sullen dirges change,.
Our bridal flow'rs serve for a buried coarse;
And all things change them to the contrary.

Fri. Sir, go you in, and, Madam, go with him;
And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare
To follow this fair coarse unto her grave.

which requir'd the indulging his private sense to make them intelli gible, and this was an unreasonable labour As I have reform'd the passage above quoted, I dare warrant, I have restor'd our Poet's text; and a fine sensible reproof it contains, against immoderate grief: for the friar begins with telling them, that the cure of those confufions, into which the melancholy accident had thrown them, did not live in the confus'd and inordinate exclamations which they express'd on that account.

(27) For the some Nature bids us all lament.) Some Nature? Sure, it is the general rule of Nature, or the could not bid us all lament.. I have ventur'd to substitute an epithet, which, I suspect, was lost in the idle, corrupted word, Some; and which admirably quadrates with the verse fucceeding this; that tho' the fondness of Nature lay fuch an injunction upon us, yet that Reason does but mock our unavailing forrow.

The

The Heav'ns do low'r upon you, for some ill;
Move them no more, by crossing their high will.

[Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Paris, and Friar. Manent Musicians, and Nurse.

Mus. Faith, we may put up our pipes and be gone. Nurse. Honest good fellows: ah, put up, put up; For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. [Exit NurseMus. Ay, by my troth, the cafe may be amended.

Enter Peter.

Pet. Musicians, oh musicians, heart's ease, heart's ease: Oh, an you will have me live, why, play heart's ease. Muf. Why,heart's ease?"

Pet. O musicians, because my heart itself plays, my heart itself is full of woe. O, play me fome merry dump, to comfort me!

Mus. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now.

Pet. You will not then?

M.J. No.

Pet. I will then give it you foundly.

Muß What will you give us?

Pets No money, on my faith, but the gleek: I will

give you the minstrel.

Mus. Then will I give you the serving creature.

Pet. Then will I lay the serving creature's dagger on your pate.. I will carry no crotchets. I'll re you, I'll fa you, do you note me?

Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note us...

2 Mrs. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

Pet. Then have at you with my wit: I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger:anfwer me like men:

When griping grief the heart doth wound,

Then music with her filver found

Why, filver found? why, musick with her filver found?

What say you, Simon (atling?

1. Mus. Marry, Sir, because filver hath a sweet found.

Pet. Pretty! what say you, Hugh Rebeck?

2 Muf. 2 Muf. I fay, filver found, because musicians sound for filver.

Pet. Pretty too! what say you, Samuel Sound-board? 3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say.

Pet. O, I cry you mercy, you are the finger, I will fay for you. It is musick with her filver found, because : fuch fellows, as you, have no gold for founding.

The mufick with her filver found

Doth lend redress.

[Exit, finging.

Ms. What a pestilent knave is this same?

2 Muf. Hang him, Jack; come, we'll in here, tarry

for the mourners, and stay dinner.

[Exeunt.

I

ACT V.

SCENE, in MANTUA

Enter ROMEO...

FI may trust the flattering truth of fleep, (28)
My dreams presage fome joyful news at hand:

My bosom's lord fits lightly on his throne,
And, all this day, an unaccustom'd spirit
Lifts me above the ground with chearful thoughts...
I dreamt, my lady came and found me dead,
(Strange dream! that gives a dead man leave to think)
And breath'd fuch life with kifsses in my lips,
That I reviv'd, and was an Emperor.
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possest,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy?

Enter Balthasar.

News from Verona How now, Balthasar?
Doft thou not bring me letters from the Friar?

(28) If I may trust the flatt'ring truth of sleep.] i. e. If I may believe those dreams; if I may confide in their flattering tenour, as in a promife of truth.

How

How doth my lady ? is my father well ?
How doth my Juliet? That I aik again;
For nothing can be ill if the be well.

Balth. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill;
Her body fleeps in Capulets' monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives:
I faw her laid low in her kindred's vault,.
And presently took post to tell it you:
O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,
Since you did leave it for my office, Sir.

Rom. Is it even fo? then I defy you, stars!
Thou know'it my lodging, get me ink and paper,
And hire post-horses. I will hence to-night.
Balth. Pardon me, Sir, I dare not leave you thus.
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure.

Rom. Tush, thou art deceiv'd;
Leave me, and do the thing i bid thee do :
Hast thou no letters to me from the Friar?
Balth. No, my good Lord.

Rom. No matter: get thee gone,

And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.

[Exit Balthafar.

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night;
Let's fee for means-O mischief! thou art fwift
To enter in the thought of desperate men !
I do remember an Apothecary,

And hereabouts he dwells, whom late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of fimples; meager were his looks;
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:
And in his needy shop a tortoisfe hung,
An alligator stuft, and other skins
Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes;
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty feeds,.
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of rofes
Were thinly scatter'd to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself, I faid,
An if a man did need a poison now,

W'hofe

Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would fell it him.
Oh, this fame thought did but fore-run my need,.
And this fame needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house.
Being holy-day, the beggar's shop is shut:
What, ho! Apothecary!

Enter Apothecary..

Ap. Who calls so loud?

Rom. Come hither, man; I see, that thou art poor; Hold, there is forty ducats let me have A dram of poison, fuch foon-speeding geer, As will. ditperse itself thro' all the veins, That the life-weary taker may fall dead; And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath,.. As violently, as hasty powder fir'd Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantuu's law
Is death to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,
And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks;
Need and oppression stare within thine eyes,
Contempt and beggary hang upon thy back:
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law;
The world affords no law to make thee rich,
Then be not poor, but break it and take this.
Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents.
Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
A. Put this in any liquid thing you will,
And drink it off, and if you had the strength
Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.

Rom. 'I here is thy gold; worse poison to men's fouls,
Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not fell:
I fell thee poison, thou hast fold me none.-
Farewel, buy food, and get thee into flesh.
Come, cordial, and not poison; go with me
To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee.

[Exeunt.