how our Cap. O, heavens!-O, wife! look how This dagger hath mista’en,-for, lo! his house And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom." Enter MONTAGUE and Others. Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early up, To see thy son and heir more early down. Mon. Álas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; Grief of my son's exíle hath stopp'd her breath: What further woe conspires against mine age? Prince. Look, and thou shalt see. Mon. O thou untaught! what manners is in this, To press before thy father to a grave? Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, Till we can clear these ambiguities, And know their spring, their head, their true descent; And lead you even to death: Mean time forbear, Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least, This dagger hath mista'en,-for, lo! his house purge And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom.] Shakspeare quaintly represents the dagger as having mistaken its place, and "it mis-sheathed, i. e. "mis-sheathed itself" in the bosom of Juliet. It appears that the dagger was anciently worn behind the back. Prince. Then say at once what thou dost know in this. Fri. I will be brief," for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale. Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; Or, in my cell there would she kill herself. The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo, "I will be brief,] It is much to be lamented, that the poet did not conclude the dialogue with the action, and avoid a narrative of events which the audience already knew. JOHNSON. And bear this work of heaven with patience: Prince. We still have known thee for a holy man. Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this? Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's death; And then in post he came from Mantua, To this same place, to this same monument. Prince. Give me the letter, I will look on it.— And bid me stand aloof, and so I did: Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb; And, by and by, my master drew on him; And then I ran away to call the watch. Prince. This letter doth make good the friar's words, Their course of love, the tidings of her death: Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.- Have lost a brace of kinsmen:-all are punish'd. Cap. O, brother Montague, give me thy hand: This is my daughter's jointure, for no more Can I demand. Mon. But I can give thee more: That, while Verona by that name is known, Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie; Prince. A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:" For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. [Exeunt.1 s Have lost a brace of kinsmen:] Mercutio and Paris: Mercutio is expressly called the prince's kinsman in Act III. sc. iv. and that Paris also was the prince's kinsman, may be inferred from other passages. 9 Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:] This line has reference to the novel from which the fable is taken. Here we read that Juliet's female attendant was banished for concealing the marriage; Romeo's servant set at liberty because he had only acted in obedience to his master's orders; the apothecary taken, tortured, condemned, and hanged; while friar Laurence was permitted to retire to a hermitage in the neighbourhood of Verona, where he ended his life in penitence and tranquillity. STEEVENS. This play is one of the most pleasing of our author's performances. The scenes are busy and various, the incidents numerous and important, the catastrophe irresistibly affecting, and the process of the action carried on with such probability, at least with such congruity to popular opinions, as tragedy requires. Here is one of the few attempts of Shakspeare to exhibit the conversation of gentlemen, to represent the airy sprightliness of juvenile elegance. Mr. Dryden mentions a tradition, which might easily reach his time, of a declaration made by Shakspeare, that he was obliged to kill Mercutio in the third Act, lest he should have been killed by him. Yet he thinks him no such formidable person, but that he might have lived through the play, and died in his bed, without danger to the poet. Dryden well knew, had he been in quest of truth, in a pointed sentence, that more regard is commonly had to the words than the thought, and that it is very seldom to be rigorously understood. Mercutio's wit, gaiety, and courage, will always procure him friends that wish him a longer life; but his death is not precipitated, he has lived out the time allotted him in the construction of the play; nor do I doubt the ability of Shakspeare to have continued his existence, though some of his sallies are perhaps out of the reach of Dryden; whose genius was not very fertile of merriment, nor ductile to humour, but acute, argumentative, comprehensive, and sublime. The Nurse is one of the characters in which the author delighted: he has, with great subtilty of distinction, drawn her at once loquacious and secret, obsequious and insolent, trusty and dishonest. His comick scenes are happily wrought, but his pathetick strains are always polluted with some unexpected depravations. His persons, however distressed, have a conceit left them in their misery, a miserable conceit.* JOHNSON. *This quotation is also found in the Preface to Dryden's Fables: "Just John Littlewit in Bartholomew Fair, who had a conceit (as he tells you) left him in his misery; a miserable conceit." STEEVENS, |