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I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How ftands your difpofition to be married?
Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.

Nurfe. An honour? were not I thine only nurse,
I'd fay, thou hadft fuck'd wisdom from thy teat.

La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger: Here in Verona, ladies of efteem, [than you

Are made already mothers. By my count,
I was your mother much upon thefe years
That you are now a maid. Thus, then, in brief;
The valiant Paris feeks you for his love.

Nurse. A man, young lady, lady, fuch a man
As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax.
La. Cap. Verona's fummer hath not fuch a flower.
Nurfe. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
La. Cap. What fay you, can you like the gentle-
man? (8)

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This night you fhall behold him at our feaft;
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with Beauty's pen;
Examine ev'ry fev'ral lineament,

And fee, how one another lends content :-
And what obfcur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him only lacks a cover.

The fish lives in the fea, and 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide.
That book in many eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clafps locks in the golden story.
So, fhall you fhare all that he doth poffefs,
By having him, making yourself no less.

Nurfe. No lefs? 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.

(8) What fay you? Can you like the gentleman ?] This fpeech of lady Capulet, tho' I cannot readily commend it, yet I could not conceive I had any authority to leave it out. I have reftor'd many ~ other paffages in this play, not of the beft ftamp, but for the fame reason..


But no more deep will I indart mine eye,

Than your confent gives strength to make it fly.
Enter a Servant.

Seru. Madam, the guests are come, fupper ferv'd up, you call'd, my young lady afk'd for, the nurfe curft in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow ftrait.

La. Cap. We follow thee. Juliet, the County ftays. Nurfe. Go, girl, feek happy nights to happy days.


SCENE, a Street before Capulet's Houfe.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or fix other mafkers, torch-bearers, and drums.

Rom. W

7HAT, fhall this fpeech be fpoke for our Or fhall we on without apology? [excufe.?

Ben. The date is out of fuch prolixity.

We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper: (9)
Nor a without-book prologue faintly spoke
After the prompter, for our entrance.

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But let them measure us by what they will,
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

Rom. Give me a torch, 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 1, believe me; you have dancing shoes With nimble foles; I have a foul of lead, So ftakes me to the ground I cannot move. Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, And foar with them above a common bound.

(9) Scaring the ladies like a cowkeeper.] I led Mr. Pope into this mistaken reading, which I once thought the true one, before I fully understood the paffage. But I have prov'd, that crow-keeper, which poffeffes all the old copies, is the genuine reading of the Poet, in my .49th note on King Lear,


Rom. I am too fore enpearced with his fhaft,
To foar with his light feathers: and so bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
Under love's heavy burden do I fink.

Mer. And to fink in it, fhould you burden love:
Too great oppreffion for a tender thing!

Rom. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, Too rude, too boift'rous; and it pricks like thorn. Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a cafe to put my visage in;

[Pulling off his mask. A vifor for a vifor! -what care I, What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle brows fhall blush for me. Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no fooner in, But ev'ry man betake him to his legs.

Rom. A torch for me. Let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the fenfeless rushes with their heels; For I am proverb'd with a grandfire-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 moufe, the conftable's own word; If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire; Or, fave your reverence, love, wherein thou ftick'ft Up to thine ears: come, we burn day-light, ho. Rom. Nay, that's not fo.

Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay

We burn our lights by light, and lamps by day.
Take our good meaning, for our judgment fits
Five times in that, ere once in our fine wits.

Rom. And we mean well in going to this mask;
But 'tis no wit to go.

Mer, Why, may one ask?

Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.

Mer. And fo did I.

Rom. Well; what was yours?

Mer. That dreamers often lie.

Rom.-In bed asleep; while they do dream things true.


"Mer. O, then I fee, Queen Mab hath been with you. (10)
She is the Fancy's midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agat-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman ;
Drawn with a team of little atomies,
Athwart mens' nofes as they lie asleep:

Her waggon-fpokes made of long spinners' legs;
The cover, of the wings of grafhoppers;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
The collars, of the moonshine's watry beams;
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film;
Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half fo big as a round little worm,
Prickt from the lazy finger of a maid.
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner fquirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers:
And in this ftate fhe gallops, night by night,
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love:

(10) 0, then I fee, Queen Mab bath been with you:

She is the fairies midwife.] Thus begins that admirable fpeech upon the effects of the imagination in dreams. But, Queen Mab the fairies midwife? What is the then Queen of? Why, the fairies. What! and their midwife too? Sure, this is a wonderful condescenfion in her Royal Highness. But this is not the greatest of the abfurdities. The fairies' midwife? But let us fee upon what occafion She is introduced, and under what quality. Why, as a Being that has great power over human imaginations. But then according to the laws of common fenfe, if the has any title given her, must not that title have reference to the employment she is put upon? First, then, fhe is called Queen: which is very pertinent; for that defigns her-power: then she is called the fairies midwife; but what has that to do with the point in hand? If we would think that Shakepeare wrote fenfe, we muft fay, he wrote the Fancy's midwife: and this is a title the most à propos in the world, as it introduces all that is faid afterwards of her vagaries. Befides, it exactly quadrates with these lines:

-I talk of dreams;

Which are the children of an idle brain,

Begot of nothing but vain fantafie.

These dreams are begot upon fantafie, and Mab is the midwife to bring them forth. And Fancy's midwife is a phrase altogether in the manner of our Author.

Mr. Warburton.


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On courtiers' knees, that dream on curtfies ftrait :
O'er lawyers fingers, who ftrait dream on fees:
O'er ladies' lips, who ftrait on kiffes dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blifters plagues,
Because their breaths with fweet-meats tainted are.
Sometimes the gallops o'er a lawyer's nofe,
And then dreams he of fmelling out a fuit:
And sometimes comes fhe with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling the parfon as he lies asleep;

Then dreams he of another benefice.
Sometimes the driveth o'er a foldier's neck,
And then he dreams of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambufcadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; (11) and then anon
Drums in his ears, at which he ftarts and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, fwears a prayer or two,
And fleeps again. This is that very Mab,
That plats the manes of horfes in the night,
And cakes the elf-locks in foul fluttish hairs,
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That preffes them, and learns them first to bear;
Making them women of good carriage:
This is fhe-

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

Mer. True, I talk of dreams;

Which are the children of an idle brain,

(11) Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,

Of healths five fathom deep;] As the generality of the terms, coupled here, have a reference to the wars, fome ingenious perfons have conjectured that our Poet wrote;

Of delves five fathoms deep;·

i.e. Trenches; places delv'd, or dug down. But, with fubmiffion, I conceive the text to be fincere as it is; and alludes to drinking deep to a mistress's health. I find the like expreffion in Weftward-boe, a comedy wrote in our Author's time.

Troth, Sir, my mafter and Sir Goflin are guzzling; they are dabbling together fathom deep. The knight has drunk fo much bealth to the gentleman yonder on his knees, that he hath almoft loft the ufe of his legs.


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