Enter Prince, with Attendants,

Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Prophaners of this neighbour ttained steel Will they not hear what ho! you men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins ; On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mis-temper'd weapons to the ground, And hear the sentence of your moved Prince. Three civil broils, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets ; And made Verona's ancient citizens Caft by their grave, beseeming, ornaments ; , To wield old partizans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate ; If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the rest depart away, You, Capulet, fhall go along with me; And, Montague, come you this afternoon, 'To know our farther pleasure in this case, To old Free town, our common judgment-place : Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

[Exeunt Prince and Capulet, &c. La. Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach; Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began ? Ben. Here were the servants of

adversary, And yours, clofe fighting, ere I did approach ; I drew to part them : In the instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd, Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, He swung about his head, and cut the winds : Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss’d him in scorn. While we were interchanging thrufts and blows, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part.

La. Mon. O where is Romeo! Saw you him to-day? Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.

Ben. Madam, an hour before the woríhipp'd Sun (2)
Peer'd through the golden window of the East,
A troubled mind drew me to walk abroad:
Where underneath the grove of fycamour,
That westward rooteth from the city side,
So early walking did I see your son.
Tow'rds him I made ; but he was 'ware of me,
And stole into the covert of the wood.
I, measuring his affections by my own,
(That most are basied when they're most alone)
Pursued my humour, not pursuing him; (3)
And gladly shunn'd, who gladly fled from me.

Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen
With tears augmenting the fresh morning.dew ;
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep fighs :
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
Should, in the farthest east, begin to draw
The lady curtains from Aurora's bed ;
Away from light steals home my heavy son,
And private in his chamber pens himself;
Shuts up his windows, locks fair day-light out,
And makes himself an artificial night.

(2) van bour before the worshipp'd Sun Peer'd ebrough tbe golden window of ibe East, A troubled mind drew me from company:1 This is a reading only of Ms. Pope's, as far as I can trace, who had a mind to make Bena volio a greater rake than we have reason to think him from any lubsequent instance. What, in company an hour before day-light? What odd kind of companions must this Benjolie have confortei. with? This reading very reasonably reduced Mr. Warburton into an ingenious conjecture:

A troubled wind drew me from canopy: i. e. from bed. But I have restor’d the text of all the old copies, Benvolio, being troubled and not able to Neep, rose an hour before day, and went into the open air to amuse himself.

(3) Pursued my bumour, not pursuing his.] But Benvolio did pursue. bis; for Romeo bad a mind to be alone, so had Benvolio : and therefore as Dr. Tbirlby accurately observes, we ought to correct, He did aot pursue Rumco.

Black and portentous mult this humour prove,
Unless good counfel may the cause remove.

Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause !
Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn it of him.
Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means ?

Mon. Both by myself and many other friends ;
Put he, his own affections' counsellor,
Is to himself, I will not say, how true ;
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery ;
As is the bud bit with an envious worm, (4)
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure, as know.

Enter Romeo.

Ten. See, where he comes : so please you, step aside,
l'II know his grievance, or be much deny d.

Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay
To hear true thrift. Come Madam, let's away. (Exeunt.

Ben. Good-morrow, cousin.'
Rom is the day so young?
Ben. But new ftruck nine.

Rom. Ah me, sad hours seem long!
Was that my father that went hence so faft?

(4) As is the bud, bit with an enzious worm,
Ere beron fpread bis sweet leaves to the air,

Or dedicare di beauty tó tậe lame.] To the same - -Sure all the
lovers of Sbakespeare and poetry will agree that this is a very idle,
dragging paraplercmatic as the grammarians ftyle it. But our Author
pererally in his fimili's is accurate in the cloathing of them, and there.
fore, I believe, would not have overcharg'd this so infipidly. When
we come to corsider, that there is forre power else besides balmy air,
ibat brings furth, and makes the render buds spread themselves, I do
Dot click it improbable that the Poet wrote ;

Or dedicate bis beauty to obe sun.
Or, according to the more obfolete spelling, funne; which brings it
nearer to the traces of the corrupted text. I propos'd this conjectural
emendation in the Appendix to my SHAKESPEARE Reflor'd, and
Mr. Pope has ea brac'd it in his last edition,

Ben.

Ben. It was : what fadness lengthens Romeo's hours! Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes them Ben. In love?

[short. Rom. Out Ben, Of love? Romi Out of her favour, where I am in love.

Ben. Alas, that love fo gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
Should without eyes see path-ways to his will!
Where shall we dine?-O me!- What fray was here ?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much' to do with hate, but more with love:
Why then, O brawling love ! O loving hate!
Oh, any thing of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness! serious.vanity!
Mil-Shapen chaos of well-feeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, fick health!
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
This love feel', that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?

Ben. No, coz, i rather weep.
Rom. Good heart, at what?
Ben. At thy good heart's oppression.

Rom, Why, such is love's tranfgrefion.
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast;
Which thou wilt propagare, to have them prest
With more of thine ; this love, that thou haft shewn,
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke rais’d with the fume of fighs,
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vext, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears ;
What is it else ? a madness most discreet,
A choaking gall, and a preserving sweet:
Farewel, my cousin.

[Geing. Ben Soft, l'll go along. And if

you

leave me fo, 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!

Rome

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 ?-

word, ill-urg'd to one that is so ill!
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
Ben. l aim'd so near, when I suppos’d you

lov'd. Rom. A right good marks-man;--and she's fair, I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

Rom. But, 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 fiege of loving terms, Nor 'bide th' encounter of affailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to faint-seducing gold. O she is rich in beauty; only poor, That when the dies, with her dies Beauty's store. (5)

Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will fill live chate?

Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste.
For beauty starv'd with her severity,
Cutz beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair,
To merit bliss by making me despair ;
She hath. forsworn to love, and in that vow
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now,

Ben. Be ruld 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.

Rom. 'Tis the way
To call hers (exquisite) in question more :
Those happy maiks, that kils fair ladies' brows,
Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair;

(5) That, wben fbe dies, with beauty dies her store.] This conveys no satisfactory idea to me. I have ventur'd at a night transposition, which gives a meaning, warranted, I think, by what Romeo says in his very next speech. She is rich in beauty, and if she dies a maid, the cuts off that beauty from its succession.

For beauty, farv'd with her severity,
Cuts beauty off from all posterity,

He