Mer. Good King of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal; and as you shall ufe me hereafter, dry-beat the reft of the eight. Will you pluck your fword out of his pilcher by the ears? Make hafte, left mine be about your ears ere it be out.

Tyb. I am for you.

[Drawing. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, Sir, your paffado.

[Mercutio and Tybalt fight. Rom. Draw, Benvolio,-beat down their weapons--Gentlemen-for fhame, forbear this outrage

Tybalt-Mercutio

the Prince exprefly hath

[Exit Tybalt.

Forbidden bandying in Verona ftreets.

Hold, Tybalt-good Mercutio.

Mer. I am hurt

A plague of both the houses! I am sped :

Is he gone, and hath nothing?

Ben. What, art thou hurt ?

Mer. Ay, ay, a feratch, a feratch; marry, 'tis enough. Where is my page go, villain, fetch a furgeon. Rom. Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much.

Mer. No, 'tis not fo deep as a well, nor fo wide as a church door, but 'tis enough, 'twill ferve: afk for me to morrow, and you fhall find me a grave man. I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world: a plague of both your houses! What a dog, a rat, a moule, a cat, to fcratch a man to death a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetick? why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into fome houfe, Benvolio. Or I fhall faint; a plague o both your houfes! They have made worms-meat of me,

I have it, and foundly too. Plague o' your houses!

[Exeunt Mer and Ben. Rom. This gentleman, the Prince's near ally,

My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt

In my behalf; my reputation ftain'd

With Tybalt's flander; Tybalt, that an hour

C 3

Hath

Hath been my coufin: O fweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper foftned valour's steel.

Enter Benvolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead. That gallant fpirit hath afpir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did fcorn the earth. Rom. This day's black fate on more days does depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.

Enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. Rom. Alive in triumph? and Mercutio flain? Away to heav'n, refpective lenity,

And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now!

Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,

That late thou gav'it me; for Mercutio's foul
Is but a little way above our heads,

Staying for thine to keep him company:

Or thou or I, or both, muft go with him.

Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that did ft confort him here, Shalt with him hence.

Rom. This fhall determine that.

[They fight, Tybalt falls.

Ben Romeo, away, be gone:

The citizens are up, and Tybalt flain

Stand not amaz d; the Prince will doom thee death,

If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away.

Rom O! I am fortune's fool.

Ben. Why doft thou stay?

Enter Citizens.

[Exit Romeo.

Cit. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio?
Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?
Ben. There lies that Tybalt.

Cit. Up, Sir, go with me:

I charge thee in the Prince's name, obey.

Enter

Enter Prince, Montague, Capulet, their Wives, &c.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? Ben. O noble Prince, I can discover all Th' unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: There lies the man, flain by young Romeo, That flew thy kinfman, brave Mercutio.

La. Cap. Tybalt, my coufin ! O my brother's child!Unhappy fight! alas, the blood is spill'd

Of my.

dear kinfman-Prince, as thou art true, For blood of ours, fhed blood of Montague. Prin. Benvolio, who began this fray?

Ben. Tybalt, here flain, whom Romeo's hand did flay:
Romeo, that fpoke 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 fpleen
Of Tybalt, deaf to peace; but that he tilts
With piercing fteel at bold Mercutio's breast;
Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
And with a martial fcorn, with one hand beats
Cold death afide, and with the other fends
It back to Tybalt, whofe dexterity

Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,

Hold, friends! friends, part! and, fwifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points,

And 'twixt them rufhes; underneath whofe 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 ftout Tybalt flain;
And as he fell, did Romeo turn to fly :
This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

La. Cap. He is a kinfman to the Montague.
Affection makes him falfe, he speaks not true.
Some twenty of them fought in this black ftrife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life.

C4

I beg

I beg for juftice, which thou, Prince, muft give;
Romeo flew Tybalt, Romeo muft not live.

Prin. Romeo flew him, he flew Mercutio;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
La. Mont. Not Romeo, Prince, he was Mercutio's friends
His fault concludes but what the law fhould end,
The life of Tybalt.

Prin. And for that offence,

Immediately we do exile him hence:

I have an intereft in your hearts' proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding;
But I'll amerce you with fo ftrong a fine,
That you fhall all repent the lofs of mine.
I will be deaf to pleading and excufes,

Nor tears nor prayers fhall purchase out abuses;
Therefore ufe none; let Romeo hence in hafte,
Elfe, when he's found, that hour is his laft. (21)
Bear hence this body, and attend our will:
"Mercy but murders, pardoning thofe that kill."

[Exeunt

SCENE changes to an Apartment in Capulet's

Houfe.

Enter Juliet alone.

Jul. G Tow'rds Phabus' manfion; fuch a waggoner,

ALLOP apace, you fiery-footed steeds,

As Phaeton, would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.

(21) Elfe, when he is found, that hour is bis laft.] It is wonderful that Mr. Pope fhould retort the want of ear upon any body, and pass fuch an inharmonious unfcanning verfe in his own ear: a verfe, that cannot run off from the tongue with any cadence of mufick, the short and long fyllables ftand fo perverfely. We must read,

Elfe, ben he's found, that hour is bis laft.

Every diligent and knowing reader of our Poet muft have obferv'd, that bour and fire are almoft perpetually diffyllables in the pronounci.

ation and fcanfion of his verses.

Spread

Spread thy clofe curtain, love-performing Night, (22)
That th' Run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo
Leap to thefe arms, untalkt of and unfeen.
Lovers can fee to do their am'rous ritesni oʻsana
By their own beauties: or, if love be blind,
It beft agrees with night. Come, civil night,
Thou fober-fuited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lofe a winning match,"
Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenheads.
Hood my unmann'd blood baiting in my cheeks,
With thy black mantle; till ftrange love, grown bold,
Thinks true love acted, fimple modefty.

Come night, come, Romeo! come, thou day in night!
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night,
Whiter than fhow upon a raven's back:

Come, gentle night; come loving, black-brow'd night!
Give me my Romeo, and, when he fhall die,
Take him and cut him out in little ftars,
And he will make the face of heav'n fo fine,
That all the world fhall be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish fan.
O, I have bought the manfion of a love,
But not poffefs'd it; and though I am fold,
Not yet enjoy'd; fo tedious is this day,
As is the night before fome festival,
To an impatient child that hath new robes,
And may not wear them:

(22) Spread thy clofe curtain

O, here

dool raba

?

comes my nurfe!

love-performing Night, das V That runaways eyes may wink] What runaways are thefe, whole eyes Juliet is willing to have ftopt? Macbeth, we may remember, makes an invocation to Night, much in the fame strain:

Come, feeling Night,

Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, &c.

So Juliet here would have night's darkness obfcure the great eye of the day, the Sun; whom confidering in a poetical light as Phoebus, drawn in hiscar with fiery footed freeds, and prfing thro' the Heav'ns, the very properly calls him, with regard to the fwiftnefs of his courfe the Runaway. In the like manner our Poet fpeaks of the night, in the Merchant of Venice, cevis svitnan 05 For the clofe Night doth play the runaway.

Mr. Warburtan.