The story of this play, except the episode of Ed- that it follows the chronicle; it has the rudiments mund, which is derived, I think, from Sidney, is of the play, but none of its amplifications: it first taken originally from Geoffry of Monmouth, whom hinted Lear's madness, but did not array it in cirHolinshed generally copied; but perhaps immedi- cumstances. The writer of the ballad added ately from an old historical ballad. My reason for something to the history, which is a proof that he believing that the play was posterior to the ballad, would have added more, if more had occurred to rather than the ballad to the play, is, that the bal-his mind; and more must have occurred if he had lad has nothing of Shakspeare's nocturnal tempest, || seen Shakspeare. which is too striking to have been omitted, and JOHNSON. PROLOGUE. TWO households, both alike in dignity, A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife. The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, nought could move, stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. Sam. True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall:therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall. Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and us their men. Sam. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant : when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel re-with the maids; I will cut off their heads. Gre. The heads of the maids? Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; ACT I. SCENE I-A public place. Enter Sampson and Gregory, armed with swords and bucklers. Sampson. GREGORY, o'my word, we'll not carry coals. Sam. I strike quickly, being moved. Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt. Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it. Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand: 1: and, 'tis known, I am a pretty piece of flesh. Gre. 'Tis well, thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John.2 Draw thy tool; here comes two of the house of the Montagues.3 Enter Abram and Balthazar. Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will back thee. Gre. How? turn thy back, and run? Gre. No, marry: I fear thee! Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. Gre. I will frown, as I pass by; and let them take it as they list. Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. Gre. To move, is-to stir; and to be valiant, is-bear it. to stand to it: therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to (1) A phrase formerly in use to signify the bearing injuries. Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? (2) Poor John is hake, dried and salted. Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say—ay? Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you; I serve as good a man as you. Abr. No better. Enter Benvolio, at a distance. For this time, all the rest depart away: [Exe. Prince, and Attendants; Capulet, Lady Capulet, Tybalt, Citizens, and Servants. Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began? Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: Gre. Say-better; here comes one of my mas-I drew to part them; in the instant came ter's kinsmen. Sam. Yes, better, sir. Sam. Draw, if you be men.-Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. [They fight. Ben. Part, fools; put up your swords; you know not what you do. [Beats down their swords. Enter Tybalt. Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these less hinds? The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd; La. Mon. O, where is Romeo?-saw you him heart-Right glad I am, he was not at this fray. Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: 1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partizans! strike! beat|| Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues! Enter Capulet, in his gown; and Lady Capulet. Cap. What noise is this?-Give me my long sword, ho! La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword? Cap. My sword, I say!-Old Montague is come, Enter Montague and Lady Montague. me go. Enter Prince, with Attendants. (1) Clubs! was the usual exclamation at an affray in the streets, as we now call Watch! Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? Enter Romeo, at a distance. Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. Ben. Good morrow, cousin. Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Rom. Good heart, at what? Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. Rom. Why, such is love's transgression.Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love, that thou hast shown, Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz. Ben. [Going. Soft, I will go along; And if you leave me so, you do me wrong. Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love. Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee? Ben. Groan? why, no; But sadly tell me, who. : Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill!In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd. Rom. A right good marksman -And she's fair I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss: she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O, she is rich in beauty; only poor, That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live chaste? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty, starv'd with her severity, (1) In seriousness. (2) 1. e. What end does it answer. (3) Account, estimation. To merit bliss by making me despair: Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think. Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties. 'Tis the way Rom. To call hers, exquisite, in question more: Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I, Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both; And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride, Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, She is the hopeful lady of my earth: But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent is but a part; An she agree, within her scope of choice Lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you, among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house, look to behold this night Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light: Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel When well-apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads, even such delight || Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house; hear all, all see, And like her most, whose merit most shall be: Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reckoning none. Come, go with me:-Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those persons out, Whose names are written there, (Gives a paper.] and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasures stay. [Exeunt Capulet and Paris. Serv. Find them out, whose names are written here? It is written--that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned-In good time. (4) To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare, is to possess. (5) Estimation. Enter Benvolio and Romeo. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Serv. God gi' good e'en.-I pray, sir, can you Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. [Reads. ||SCENE III.—A room in Capulet's house. Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse. La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. Nurse. Now, by my maiden-head, at twelve year old, I bade her come.-What, lamb! what, lady- God forbid!-where's this girl?-what, Juliet! I Jul. Your mother. Madam, I am here. La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave a while, We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again; Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, La. Cap. Signior Martino, and his wife, and daughters;| A fortnight, and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen. his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Val-Susan and she,-God rest all Christian souls!-entine: Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daugh- Were of an age.-Well, Susan is with God; ters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; SigniorShe was too good for me: But, as I said, Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena. On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen: A fair assembly; [Gives back the note.] Whither And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget it,— should they come? Serv. Up. Rom. Whither? Of all the days of the year, upon that day: Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: My Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's eye, Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye And since that time it is eleven years: And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said—Ay. |