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Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life:
I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
Mon. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend; His fault concludes but, what the law should end, The life of Tybalt.
And, for that offence,
Immediately we do exíle him hence:
I have an interest in your hates' proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding;
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine,
That you shall all repent the loss of mine:
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;
Nor tears, nor prayers, shall purchase out abuses,
Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste,
Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body, and attend our will:
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. [Exeunt.
A Room in Capulet's House.
Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus' mansion; such a waggoner
As Phaeton would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately. -
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night!
to intend the character of Benvolio as good, meant perhaps to show, how the best minds, in a state of faction and discord, are detorted to criminal partiality. JOHNSON.
That run-away's eyes may wink'; and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen!
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
By their own beauties: or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night.- Come, civil night, 2
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:
Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks,"
With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,
Think true love acted, simple modesty.
Come, night!-Come, Romeo! come, thou day in night!
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow on + a raven's back.
Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night,
Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine,
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possess'd it; and, though I am sold,
Not yet enjoy'd: Są tedious is this day,
1 Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night!
That run-away's eyes may wink; &c.] Juliet first wishes for the absence of the sun, and then invokes the night to spread its curtain close around the world:
the garish sun.] Garish is gaudy, showy.
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night!
Next, recollecting that the night would seem short to her, she speaks of it as of a run-away, whose flight she would wish to retard, and whose eyes she would blind, lest they should make discoveries.
2 Come, civil night,] Civil is grave, decently solemn.
3 Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks,] These are terms of falconry. An unmanned hawk is one that is not brought to endure company. Bating, (not baiting, as it has hitherto been printed,) is fluttering with the wings as striving to fly away.
1t "upon" - MALONE.
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child, that hath new robes,
And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,
Enter Nurse, with Cords.
And she brings news; and every tongue, that speaks
But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence.
Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the
That Romeo bade thee fetch?
Ay, ay, the cords. [Throws them down. Jul. Ah me! what news! why dost thou wring thy hands?
Nurse. Ah well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
We are undone, lady, we are undone ! —
Alack the day!-he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!
Jul. Can heaven be so envious?
Though heaven cannot : O Romeo, Romeo!.
Who ever would have thought it? — Romeo!
Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but I, 5
And that bare vowel I shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice:
I am not I, if there be such an I;
Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, I.
If he be slain, say-I; or if not, no:
Brief sounds determine of my weal, or woe.
Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,
say thou but I,] In Shakspeare's time the affirmative particle ay was usually written I, and here it is necessary to retain the old spelling.
God save the mark! - here on his manly breast:
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood,
All in gore blood; - I swoonded at the sight.
Jul. O break, my heart!-poor bankrupt, break at once !
To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty!
Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;
And thou, and Romeo, press one heavy bier!
Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
That ever I should live to see thee dead!
Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary?
Is Romeo slaughter'd; and is Tybalt dead?
My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord? -
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!
For who is living, if those two are gone?
Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished.
Jul. O God!-did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?
Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did.
Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face!
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!
Despised substance of divinest show!
Just opposite to what thou justly seem❜st,
A damned saint, an honourable villain!
O, nature! what hadst thou to do in hell,
When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?-
Was ever book, containing such vile matter,
So fairly bound? O, that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace!
God save the mark !] This proverbial exclamation occurs again, with equal obscurity, in Othello, Act I. sc. i.
There's no trust,
No faith, no honesty in men; all perjur'd,
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vita: —
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
Shame come to Romeo!
Blister'd be thy tongue,
For such a wish! he was not born to shame :
Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit;
For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
Sole monarch of the universal earth.
O, what a beast was I to chide at him!
Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?
Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, 7
When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? -
But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband:
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;
Your tributary drops belong to woe,
Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.
My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband:
All this is comfort; Wherefore weep I then?
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
That murder'd me: I would forget it fain;
But, O! it presses to my memory,
Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo-banished;
That-banished, that one word banished,
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death,
Was woe enough, if it had ended there:
What tongue shall smooth thy name,] To smooth, in ancient language, is to stroke, to caress, to fondle.
8 Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts.] That is, is worse than the loss of ten thousand Tybalts.