Ben. Of love?

Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love.. Ben. Alas, that love, fo gentle in his view, Should be fo tyrannous and rough in proof!

9

Rom. Alas, that love, whofe view is muffled ftill, Should without eyes fee 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.

[Striking his breast.

Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!

Oh, any thing of nothing firft create!

O heavy lightnefs! ferious vanity!

Mif-shapen chaos of well-feeming forms!

Feather of lead, bright fmoke, cold fire, fick health! Still-waking fleep, that is not what it is!

This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

Doft thou not laugh?

Ben. No, coz, I rather weep.

Rom. Good heart, at what?

Ben. At thy good heart's oppreffion.

2

Rom. Why, fuch is love's tranfgreffion.

Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast;

Which thou wilt propagate, to have them prest
With more of thine; this love, that thou hast shown,
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.

9-to his will!] Sir T. Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton, read, to his ill. The prefent reading has fome obfcurity; the meaning may be, that love finds out means to purfue his defire. That the blind thould find paths to ill is no great wonder.

I

Why then, O brawling love, &c.] Of thefe lines neither the fense nor occafion is very evident. He is not yet in love with an enemy, and to love one and

hate another is no fuch uncommon ftate, as can deferve all this toil of antithefis.

Why, fuch is love's tranfgref fion.-] Such is the confequence of unfkilful and mistaken kindness.

This line is probably mutilated, for being intended to rhyme to the line foregoing, it mut have originally been complete in its meature.

Love is a fmoke rais'd with the fume of fighs,
Being purg'd, a fire fparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vext, a fea nourish'd with lovers' tears;
What is it elfe? a madness most discreet,
A choaking gall, and a preferving fweet.
Farewel, my coufin.

Ben. Soft, I'll go along.

And if you leave me fo, you do me wrong.

[Going.

Rom. Tut, I have loft myself, I am not here; This is not Romeo, he's fome other where.

Ben. Tell me in fadness, who fhe is you love? Rom. What, fhall I groan and tell thee? Ben. Groan? why, no; but fadly tell me, who. Rom. Bid a fick man in sadness make his will?— O word, ill-urg'd to one that is fo ill!

In fadness, coufin, I do love a woman.

Ben. I aim'd fo near, when I fuppos'd you lov❜d. Rom. A right good marks-man;-and fhe's fair, I love.

Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is fooneft hit. Rom. But, in that hit, you mifs; fhe'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow; fhe hath Dian's wit: And, in ftrong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow, fhe 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-feducing gold.

O, she is rich in beauty; only poor

That when he dies, 7 with Beauty dies her Store. Ben. Then fhe hath fworn, that he will ftill live chafte ?

Rom. She hath, and in that Sparing makes huge

waste.

For beauty, ftarv'd with her severity,
Cuts beauty off from all pofterity,

9

She is too fair, too wife, too wifely fair,
To merit blifs by making me despair;

She hath forfworn to love, and in that vow

Do I live dead, that live to tell it now,

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. Rom. O, teach me how I fhould forget to think. Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other Beauties.

Rom. 'Tis the way

To call hers exquifite in queftion more;

Those happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows,
Being black, puts us in mind they hide the fair;
He that is ftrucken blind, cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eye-fight loft.
Shew me a miftrefs, that is paffing fair,
What doth her beauty ferve, but as a note,
Where I may read, who pafs'd that paffing fair?
Farewel, thou canst not teach me to forget.
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or elfe die in debt.

with Beauty dies her Store] Mr. Theobald reads,

With her dies beauties flore. and is followed by the two fucceeding editors. I have replaced the old reading, because I think it at left as plaufible as the correction. She is rich, fays he, in beauty, and only poor in being fubject to the lot of huma

[Exeunt.

nity, that her flore, or riches, can be deftroyed by death, who fhall, by the fame blow, put an end to beauty.

8 Rom. She bath, and in that Sparing, &c.] None of the following fpeeches of this fcene in the first edition of 1597. POPE. 9 too wifely fair,] Hanmer. For, wifely co fair.

SCENE

SCENE III.

Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant.

Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I think,
For men fo old as we to keep the peace.

Par. Of honourable reck'ning are you both,
And, pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds fo long.
But now, my Lord, what fay you to my Suit?
Cap. But faying o'er what I have faid before:
My child is yet a ftranger in the world,
She hath not feen the Change of fourteen years;
Let two more fummers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than fhe are happy mothers made, Cap. And too foon marr'd are thofe fo early made. The earth hath fwallow'd all my hopes but she,

I

She is the hopeful lady of my earth,

But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her confent is but a part;
If the agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my confent, and fair according voice:
This night, I hold an old-accuftom'd Feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Such as I love; and you, among the ftore,
One more, moft welcome, makes my number more.
At my poor house, look to behold this night
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven's light.

Such

ever called his lands his earth. I
will venture to propose a bold
change,

She is the hope and stay of my
full years.
Earth-treading ftars that make
dark HEAVEN's light.] This
nonsense

3

Such comfort as ' do lufty young men feel,
When well-apparel'd April on the heel
Of limping Winter treads, ev'n fuch delight
Among fresh female buds fhall you this night
Inherit at my houfe; hear all, all fee,

And like her moft, whofe merit moft fhall be:
4 Which on more view of many, mine, being one,
May stand in number, tho' in reck'ning none.
Come, go with me. Go, firrah, trudge about,
Through fair Verona; find thofe perfons out,
Whofe names are written there; and to them fay,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

[Exeunt Capulet and Paris.

as much in an assembly of beauties, as young men feel in the month of April, is furely to wafte found upon a very poor fentiment. I read,

Such comfort as do lufty yeomen feel.

You fhall feel from the fight and
converfation of thefe ladies, such
hopes of happiness and fuch
pleafure, as the farmer receives
from the fpring, when the plenty
of the year begins, and the prof-
pect of the harveft fills him with
delight.

4 Which on more view of ma-
ny, mine, being one,
My ftand in number, tho' in

reck'ning none.] The first of thefe lines I do not understand. The old folio gives no help; the palage is there, Which one more view. I can offer nothing better than this:

Within your view of many,
mine being one,
May ftand in number, &c.