With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast; It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity Retorts it. Romeo, he cries aloud, Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague. Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; His fault concludes but, what the law should end, Prin. And, for that offence, Immediately we do exile him hence: I have an interest in your hates' proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding, Bear hence this body, and attend our will; [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Room in Capulet's House. Enter JULIET. Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, Come, night!-Come, Romeo! come, thou day in night! For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night 1 The sentiment here enforced is different from that found in the first edition, 1597. There the prince concludes his speech with these words: "Pity shall dwell, and govern with us still; Mercy to all but murderers,-pardoning none that kill.” 2 Here ends this speech in the original quarto. The rest of the scene has likewise received considerable alterations and additions. 3 i. e. that the eyes of prying persons, who run away as soon as observed, may wink, i. e. see imperfectly. Much ingenious criticism has been bestowed in endeavoring to explain this passage. The runaway has been supposed to refer to the sun, to night, to Juliet, to Romeo, and to Fame. There is most probably some typographical error in the lines. 4 Civil is grave, solemn. 5 These are terms of falconry. An unmanned hawk is one that is not brought to endure company. Bating is fluttering or beating the wings as striving to fly away. Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.— To an impatient child, that hath new robes, Enter Nurse, with cords. And she brings news; and every tongue, that speaks cords That Romeo bade thee fetch? Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords. Jul. Ah me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands? Nurse. Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone ! Alack the day!-he's gone, he's killed, he's dead! Though Heaven cannot. Romeo can, O Romeo! Romeo! Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roared in dismal hell. Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but I,1 And that bare vowel I shall poison more 1 In Shakspeare's time, the affirmative particle ay was usually written I; and here it is necessary to retain the old spelling. Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice: Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, I. Brief sounds determine of my weal, or woe. Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,- Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaubed in blood, Jul. O, break, my heart!-poor bankrupt, break at once ! To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary? Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; Jul. O God!-did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did. Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-feathered raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! 1 See Othello, Act i. Sc. 1. In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? Nurse. There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, Ah, where's my man? Give me some aqua vitæ.These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. Shame come to Romeo! Jul. Blistered be thy tongue, For such a wish! he was not born to shame. Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; For 'tis a throne where honor may be crowned O, what a beast was I to chide at him! Nurse. Will you speak well of him that killed your cousin? Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth' thy name, When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have killed my husband. Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort. Wherefore weep I, then? Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, But, O! it presses to my memory, Like damned, guilty deeds to sinners' minds. Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death 1 To smooth is to flatter, to speak fair; it is here metaphorically used for to mitigate or assuage the asperity of censure with which Romeo's name would be now mentioned. 2 i. e. is worse than the loss of ten thousand Tybalts. |