Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

Of my

La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child Unhappy sight! alas, the blood is spilld

dear kinsman -Prince, as thou art true, For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.

Prin. Benvolio, who began this fray?

Ben. Tybalt here Nain, whom Romeo's hand did slay : Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal Your high displeasure: all this uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Of Tybalt, deaf to peace; but that he tilts With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast ; Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, And with a martial scorn, with one hand beats Cold death aside, and with the other sends It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his

tongue,
His agil arm beats down their fatal points,
And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Of ftout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled;
But by and by comes back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
And to't they go like lightning : for ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain;
And as he fell, did Romeo turn to fly :
This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague:
Affection makes him false, he speaks not true.
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, muft give;
Romeo New Tybalt, Romeo must not live.

Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio ;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
La, Mont: Not Romeo, Prince, he was Mercutio's

friend ; His fault concludes but what the law should end,

The

The life of Tybalt.

Prin. And for that offence,
Immediately we do exile him hence :
I have an interest in your hearts' proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawls doth lye 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 laft. (9)
Bear hence this body, and attend our will:
“ Mercy but murthers, pardoning those that kill.”

[Exeunt.

5 CENE changes to an Apartment in Capulet's

House.

Enter Juliet alone.

apace,

Jul. G Tow'rds

Phebus manfion ; fuch a waggoner,

As Phaeton, would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, (10)

That (9) Else, when he is found, that hour is his last.] It is wonderful that Mr. Pope should retort the Want of Ear upon any body, and pass such an inharmonious, unscanning, Verse in his own Ear: a Verse, that cannot run off from the tongue with any Cadence of Musick, the short and long Syllables Itand so perversely. We must read,

Elfe, when he's found, that Hour is his last. Every diligent and knowing Reader of our Poet must have observ'd, that Hour and Fire are almost perpetually disyllables in the pronounciation and Scanfion of his Verses.

(10) Spread thy close Curtain, love performing Night, That runaways Eyes may wink:] What Runaways are these, whose Eyes Juliet is wishing to have stopt? Macbeth, we may remember, makes an Invocation to Night, much in the same Strain:

--- Comez

C4

That th' Run-away's eyes may wink; and Romea
Leap to these arms, untalkt of and unseen.
Lovers can see to do their am'rous rites
By their own beauties : or, if love be blind,
It best agrees with night. Come, civił night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Plaid for a pair of stainless maidenheads.
Hood my unmann'd blood baiting in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle; 'till strange love, grown bold,
Thinks true love acted, simple modefty.
Come, night, come, Romeo! come, thou day. in night!
For thou wilt lye upon the wings of night,
Whiter than snow upon 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 heav'n fo fine,
That all the world shall be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garith sun.
O, I have bought the manfion of a love,
But not possess'd it; and though I am sold,
Not yet enjoy'd; fo tedious is this day,
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 the brings news; and every tongue, that speaks
But Romeo's name, speaks heav'nly eloquence ;

-Come, feeling Night, Scarf up the tender Eye of pitiful day, &c. So Juliet here would have Night's Darkness obscure the great Eye of the Day, the Sun; whom considering in a poetical Light as Phæbus, drawn in his Carr with fiery-footed Steeds, and posting thro' the Heav'ns, She very properly calls him, with regard to the Swiftness of his Course, the Runaway. In the like Manner our Poet speaks of the Night, in the Merchant of Venice. For the close Night doth play the Runaway. Mr. Warburton.

Now,

Now, nurse, what news? what haft thou there?
The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch ?

Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords.
Jul. Ay me, what news ?
Why doft thou wring thy hands?

Nurse. Ah welladay, 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 ?

Nurfe. Romeo can,
Though heav'n cannot. O Romeo! Romeo !
Who ever would have thought it, Romeo ?
Jul. What devil art thou, that doft torment me

thus ?
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo llain himself? say thou but, I;
And that bear vowel, I, shall poison more (11)
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,
(God save the mark,) here on his manly breast.,
A piteous coarse, a bloody piteous coarse;
Pale, pale as alhes, all bedawb'd in blood,
All in gore blood; I swooned at the fight.
Jul. 0. 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 : 0.courteous Tybalt, honeft gentleman, That ever I should live to see thee dead!.

(11) And that bare vowel, ay, shall poison more

Than the death-darting Eye of Cockatrice.) I question much whe. ther the Grammarians will take this new Vowel on Trust from Mr. Pope, without suspecting it rather for a Diphthong. In short, we mult restore the Spelling of the Old Books, or We lote the Poet's Conceit. Ac his Time of day, the affirmative Adverb Ay was generally written, I: and by this means it both becomes a Vowel, and antwers in Sound to Eye, upon which the Conceit turns in the Second Line,

Fulg.

Jul. What storm is this, that blows fo contrary !
Is Romeo flaughter'd ? and is Tybalt dead ?
My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord ?
Then let the trumpet found the general Doom,
For who is living, if those two are gone ?

Nurse. Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished,
Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished.

Jul. O. God ! did Romeo's hand thed Tybalts blood ? Nurfe. It did, it did, alas, the day! it did.

Jul. O ferpent-heart, hid with a flow'ring face!
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave ?
Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical!
Dove feather'd raven! Wolvilh-rav’ning Lamb! (12)
Despised substance, of divinest show!
Juft opposite to what thou juftly seem'ft,
A damned Saint, an honourable villain !
O nature ! what hadít thou to do in hell,
When thou didit 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 !

Nurse. There's no trust,
No faith, no honesty, in men; all perjur'd;
All, all forsworn ; all naught ; and all dissemblers.
Ah, where's my man? give me some Aqua vitam
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old!

(12) Ravenous Dove, feather'd Raven,

Wolvis ravening Lamb.] This passage Mr. Pope has thrown out of the Text, partly, I presume, because these two noble Hemistichs are, indeed, inharmonious: [ But chiefly, because they are obscure and unintelligible at the first view.) But is there no such thing as a Crutch for a labouring, halting, Verse ? I'll venture to restore to the Poet a Line that was certainly his, that is in his own Mode of Thinking, and truly worthy of him. The first word, ravenous, I have no Doubt, was blunder. ingly coin'd out of Raven and ravening, which follow; and, if we only throw it out, we gain at once an harmonious Verse, and a proper Coneraft of Epithets and Images. Dove-feather'd Raven i Wolvilh-rav’ning Lamb!

Shame

« ZurückWeiter »