She is the Fancy's mid-wife, and fhe comes. Her waggon-fpokes made of long fpinners' legs; rence to the Employment fhe is put upon? First, then, fhetis called Queen: which is very pertinent; for that defigns her Power: Then he is called the Fairies' Midwife; but what has that to do with the Point in hand? If we would think that Shakespeare wrote Senfe, we muft fay, he wrote the Fancy's Midwife and this is a Title the moft à propes in the World, as it introduces all that is faid afterwards of her Vagaries. Befides, it exactly quadrates with these Lines: Italk of Dreams; Which are the Children of an Idle Brain, These Dreams are begot upon Fantasie, and Mab ́is the Midwife to bring them forth. And Fancy's Midwife is a Phrase altogether in the Manner of our Author, Mr. Warburton. And And fometimes comes fhe with a tithe-pig's tail, Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace; Mer. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our felves; Supper is done, and we fhall come too late. Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind mifgives, Some confequence, yet hanging in the Stars, Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels; and expire the term Ben. Strike, drum. [They march about the Stage, and Exeunt. SCENE SCENE changes to a Hall in Capulet's Houfe. Enter Servants, with Napkins. W Ser.HERE's Potpan, that he helps not to take away; he fhift a trencher! he scrape a trencher ! 2 Ser. When good manners shall lie all in one or two mens' hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing. 1 Ser. Away with the joint-stools, remove the courtcup-board, look to the plate: good thou, fave me a piece of march-pane; and, as thou loveft me, let the porter let in Sufan Grindfione, and Nell. Antony, and Potpan 2 Ser. Ay, boy, ready. 1 Ser. You are look'd for, call'd for, ask'd for, and fought for, in the great chamber. 2 Ser. We cannot be here and there too; cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all. [Exeunt. Enter all the Guefts and Ladies, with the maskers. 1 Cap. Welcome, Gentlemen. Ladies, that have your feet Unplagu'd with corns, we'll have a bout with you. Will now deny to dance? fhe that makes dainty, gone! [Mufick plays, and they dance. More light, ye knaves, and turn the tables up; And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. Ah, Sirrah, this unlook'd-for fport comes well. Nay, fit; nay, fit, good coufin Capulet, For you and I are part our dancing days: How long is't now fince laft your felf and I VOL. VIII. B Were Were in a mask? 2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years. 1 Cap. What, man! 'tis not fo much, 'tis not so much; 'Tis fince the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecoft as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years, and then we mask'd. 2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more; his fon is elder, Sir: His fon is thirty. 1 Cap. Will you tell me that? His fon was but a ward two years ago. Rom. What lady's That, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight? Ser. I know not, Sir. Rom. O, fhe doth teach the torches to burn bright; Beauty too rich for ufe, for earth too dear! The measure done, I'll watch her place of Stand, Tyb. This by his voice fhould be a Montague. Now by the flock and honour of my kin, Cap. Why, how now, kinfman, wherefore ftorm you fo? Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe: Cap. Young Romeo, is't? Tyb. That villain Romeo. Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone; То To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth. Tyb. It fits, when fuch a villain is a guest. Cap. He fhall be endur'd. What, goodman boy-I fay, he fhall. Go to You'll not endure him! God fhall mend my foul, You will fet cock-a-hoop? you'll be the man? Cap. Go to, go to, You are a fawcy boy-is't fo, indeed? This trick may chance to fcathe you; I know what. Well faid, my hearts: Be quiet, or (more light, You are a Princox, go:more light, for fhame) I'll make you quiet-What? cheerly, my hearts. Tyb. Patience perforce, with wilful choler meeting, Makes my flesh tremble in their different Greeting. I will withdraw; but this intrufion fhall, Now feeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand (5) (s) If I profane with my unworthy hand This holy Shrine, the gentle Sin is this, [To Juliet. My Lips, wo blushing Pilgrims, &c.] All Profanations are fuppos'd to be expiated either by fome meritorious Action, or by fome Penance undergone and Punishment fubmitted to. So, Romeo would here fay, if I have been profane in the rude Touch of my Hand, my Lips ftand ready, as two bluing Pilgrims, to take off that Offence, to atone for it, by a fweet Penance. Our Poet therefore must have wrote, the gentle Fine is this, B 2 Mr. Warburton. This |