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,1o 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:
Which on more 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 pleasure 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 writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned :-In good time.

**Earth-treading stars that make dark even light." Monck Mason would read,

**Earth-treading stars that make dark, heaven's light," that is, stars that make the light of heaven appear dark in comparison with them. It appears to us unnecessary to alter the original reading, and especially as passages in the masquerade scene would seem to indicate that the banqueting room opened into a garden-as,

"Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night."

So the folio and (C), with the exception of one for on. (4). Such, amongst view of many.

For your broken shin. Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is :

Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and--Good-e'en, good fellow.

Serv. God gi' good e'en.-I pray, sir, can you read?

Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without

book:

Rom. Whither to supper ?a
Serv. To our house.
Rom. Whose house?
Serv. My master's.

Rom. Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.

Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: My master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry.

[Exit.

Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st; With all the admired beauties of Verona : Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show,

And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to

fires!

a So all the early editions. Theobald gives "To supper" to the servant

La. Cap. This is the matter:- Nurse, give leave awhile,

We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again; 1 have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel.

Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age.
Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
La. Cap. She's not fourteen.
Nurse.
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,
And yet, to my teen' be it spoken, I have but
four,-

She is not fourteen.-How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?

Were of an age.-Well, Susan is with God;
She was too good for me: But, as I said,
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;12
And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget it,-
Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall,
My lord and you were then at Mantua :-
Nay, I do bear a brain :-but, as I said,
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool!
To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug.
Shake, quoth the dove-house: 't was no need, I
trow,

To bid me trudge.

And since that time it is eleven years:

For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
She could have run and waddled all about.
For even the day before, she broke her brow:
And then my husband-God be with his soul!
'A was a merry man!-took up the child :
Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou hast more
wit;

Wilt thou not, Jule? and, by my holy dam,
The pretty wretch left crying, and said—Ay.
To see now, how a jest shall come about!
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule?
quoth he:

And, pretty fool, it stinted," and said-Ay.

La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.

Nurse. Yes, madam; yet I cannot choose but

laugh,

To think it should leave crying, and say-Ay:
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone;
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly.
Yea, quoth my husband, fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou com'st to
age;

Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said—Ay.

a Bear a brain. Have a memory-a common expression. b Il stinted. It stopped. Thus Gascoigne,

"Then stinted she as if her song were done."

To stint is used in an active signification for to stop. Thus in those fine lines in Titus Andronicus, which it is difficult to believe any other than Shakspere wrote,

"The eagle suffers little birds to sing,

And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wing
He can at pleasure stint their melody."

What a picture of a despot in his intervals of self satisfying forbearance.

e Parlous. A corruption of the word perilous.

than you,

Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,

Are made already mothers: by my count,
I was a mother much upon these years
That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief;—
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man, As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax.

La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.

This night you shall behold him at our feast :
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,13
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every several lineament,
And see how one another lends content;
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
The fish lives in the sea; and 't is much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide :
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.
Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow
by men.

La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?

Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye, Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

a So (4). The folio and (C) have hour, both in Juliet's and the Nurse's speeches.

b The next seventeen lines are wanting in (A).

(B). married; which reading has been adopted by Steevens and Malone, in preference to several, in the folio and (C).

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.

La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays.

Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-A Street.

Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with Five or Six Maskers, Torch-Bearers, and others.

Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?

Or shall we on without apology?

14

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity : We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,14 Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: " But, let them measure us by what they will, We'll measure them a measure, 15 and be gone. Rom. Give me a torch,16-I am not for this ambling;

Being but heavy I will bear the light.

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes,

With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead,
So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And soar with them above a common bound.

a

A visor for a visor!-what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle-brows shall blush for me.
Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner
in,

But every man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of
heart,

Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; 17
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase,—
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on, -
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done

Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, 18 the constable's
own word:

If thou art dan, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this, sir reverence," 19 love, wherein thou stick'st

Up to the ears.-Come, we burn daylight, ho.
Rom. Nay, that's not so.
Mer.

I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, lights, lights, by day.

Take our good meaning; for our judgment sits
Five times in that, ere once in our five wits.
Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask;
But 't is no wit to go.

Mer.
Why, may one ask?
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
Mer.

Rom. Well, what was yours?
Mer.

And so did I.

That dreamers often lie.

Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream

things true.

Mer. O, then, I see queen Mab hath been

with you.

She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies d
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep :
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs,
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
Her traces of the smallest spider's web;
Her collars of the moonshine's watery beams;
Her whip of cricket's bone; the lash of film :
Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid :†
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,

Time out o' mind the fairies' coach makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of
love:

On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight:

O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream; Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted

are.

Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:"
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night; 20
And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them, and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This is she- b

A suit. A court solicitation was called a suit;-a process, a suit at law.

b It is desirable to exhibit the first draft of a performance so exquisitely finished as this celebrated description, in which every word is a study. And yet it is curious, that in the quarto of 1609, and in the folio (from which we print), and in both of which the corrections of the author are ap parent, the whole speech is given as if it were prose. The original quarto of 1597 gives the passage as follows:"Ah then I see queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and doth come In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of a burgomaster, Drawne with a team of little atomy, Athwart men's noses when they lie asleep. Her waggon spokes are made of spinners' webs. The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces are the moon-shine watery beams, The collars cricket bones, the lash of films. Her waggoner is a small gray-coated fly Not half so big as is a little worm, Picked from the lazy finger of a maid. And in this sort she gallops up and down

Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love.
O'er courtiers' knees, who strait on courtesies dream;
O'er ladies' lips who dream on kisses strait,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.
Sometimes she gallops o'er a lawyer's lap,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometimes comes she with a tythe pig's tail
Tickling a parson's nose that lies asleep
And then dreams he of another benefice.
Sometimes she gallops o'er a soldier's nose,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, countermines,
Of healths five fathom deep, and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,

Rom.

Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace, Thou talk'st of nothing.

Mer. True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air; And more inconstant than the wind who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;

Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

Rom. I fear, too early: for my mind misgives

Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With this night's revels; and expire the term
Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,
By some vile forfeit of untimely death:
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail !b-On, lusty gentlemen.
Ben. Strike, drum.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-A Hall in Capulet's House.

Musicians waiting. Enter Servants.

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher !

2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 't is a foul thing.

21

1 Sero. Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate :-good thou, save me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan; 2 Serv. Ay, boy; ready.

1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked for, and sought for, in the great chamber. 2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too.Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all. [They retire behind.

And swears a prayer or two, and sleeps again:
This is that Mab that makes maids lie on their backs,
And proves them women of good carriage.
This is the very Mab,

That plaits the manes of horses in the night,
And plaits the elfe locks in foul sluttish hair,
Which once untangled much misfortune breeds."

* Thus (4). (C) and the folio, side.

Thus (4). (C) and the folio, suit.

Thus (C). Folio omits all.

d Marchpane. A kind of sweet cake or biscuit, sometimes called almond-cake. Our maccaroons are diminutive marchpanes.

gone:

You are welcome, gentlemen!- Come, musicians, play.

A hall! a hall! give room, and foot it, girls.
[Music plays, and they dance.
More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,
And quench the fire, the room is grown too
hot.-

Ah, sirrah, this unlooked-for sport comes well.
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet ;
For
you and I are past our dancing days:
How long is 't now, since last yourself and I
Were in a mask?

a Thus (4). (C) and folio, walk about.

b This passage, to "More light, ye knaves," is wanting in (4).

c Good cousin Capulet. The word cousin, in Shakspere, was applied to any collateral relation of whatever degree; thus we have in this play "Tybalt, my cou in, Oh my brother's child." Richard the Third calls his nephew York, cousin, while the boy calls Richard, uncle. In the same play York's grandmother calls him cousin, while he replies grandam. d Her beauty hangs. All the ancient editions which can b considered authorities-the four quartos and the first folioread It seems she hangs. The reading of her beauty is from