Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing, and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,2

That I might touch that cheek!3

Jul.
Rom.

Ah me!

She speaks:

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven

Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,"

And sails upon the bosom of the air.

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name:

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy;Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.

6

[Aside.

2 O, that I were a glove upon that hand,] This passage appears to have been ridiculed by Shirley in The School of Compliments, a comedy, 1637:

3

"O that I were a flea upon that lip," &c. Steevens.

-touch that cheek!] The quarto, 1597, reads: "kiss that cheek." Steevens.

4 O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art

As glorious to this night,] Though all the printed copies conour in this reading, yet the latter part of the simile seems to require

As glorious to this sight;

and therefore I have ventured to alter the text so. Theobald.

I have restored the old reading, for surely the change was unnecessary, The plain sense is, that Juliet appeared as splendid an object in the vault of heaven obscured by darkness, as an angel could seem to the eyes of mortals, who were falling back to gaze upon him.

As glorious to this night, means as glorious an appearance in this dark night, &c. It should be observed, however, that the simile agrees precisely with Theobald's alteration, and not so well with the old reading. Steevens.

5

the lazy-pacing clouds,] Thus corrected from the first edition, in the other lazy-puffing. Pope.

What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name?7 that which we call a rose,

6 Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.] For the present punctuation I am accountable. It appears to me to afford a clear sense, which the line as printed in the old copies, where we have a comma after thyself, and no point after though, does not in my apprehension afford.

Thou art, however, says Juliet, a being sui generis, amiable and perfect, not tainted by the enmity which your family bears to

mine.

According to the common punctuation, the adversative particle is used without any propriety, or rather makes the passage non

sense.

Though is again used by Shakspeare in A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act III, sc. last, in the same sense:

"My legs are longer though, to run away."

Again, in The Taming of a Shrew:

"Would Catharine had never seen him though."

Again, in King Henry VIII:

"I would not be so sick though, for his place." Malone. If this punctuation be right, and the words of the text accurate, we must understand though in the sense of then, a reading proposed by Dr. Johnson: a sense it is perpetually used in by our ancient poets, and sometimes by our author himself. So, in Midsummer Night's Dream:

"What though he love your Hermia? Lord! what though?” Again, in The Merry Wives of Windsor:

"I keep but three men and a boy yet, but what though?”

7 — nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!

Ritson

What's in a name? &c.] The middle line is not found in the original copy of 1597, being added, it should seem, on a revision. The passage in the first copy stands thus:

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part:

What's in a name? That which we call a rose, &c.

In the copy of 1599, and all the subsequent ancient copies, the words nor any other part were omitted by the oversight of the transcriber or printer, and the lines thus absurdly exhibited: Nor arm nor face, O be some other name!

Belonging to a man.

What's in a name,

&c.

Belonging, &c. evidently was intended to begin a line, as it now does; but the printer having omitted the words nor any other part, took the remainder of the subsequent line, and carried it to that which preceded. The transposition now made needs no note to

By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes,
Without that title:-Romeo, doff thy name;
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.9

Rom.

I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in night, So stumblest on my counsel?

Rom.

By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee;

Had I it written, I would tear the word.

Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance,1 yet I know the sound; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.2

support it: the context in this and many other places supersedes all arguments. Malone.

For the sake of metre, I am willing to suppose our author

wrote

'Longing to man &c.

The same elision occurs in The Taming of a Shrew, Vol. VI, p. 109:

"Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace

"As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case." Steevens.

8 By any other name-] Thus the quarto, 1597. All the subsequent ancient copies read-By any other word. Malone.

9 Take all myself.] The elder quarto reads, Take all I have. Steevens.

1 My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words

Of that tongue's utterance,] Thus the quarto, 1597. The subsequent ancient copies read-of thy tongue's uttering. We meet with almost the same words as those here attributed to Romeo, in King Edward III, a tragedy, 1596:

"I might perceive his eye in her eye lost,

"His ear to drink her sweet tongue's utterance." Malone,

2 Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.] Thus the original copy. The subsequent ancient copies read-fair maid. "If ei. ther thee dislike" was the phraseology of Shakspeare's age. So, it likes me well; for it pleases me well. Malone.

Dislike here means displease. M. Mason.

Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and wherefore? The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb; And the place death, considering who thou art,

If

any of my

kinsmen find thee here.

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;

For stony limits cannot hold love out:

And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.3

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye,
Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.

Jul. I would not for the world, they saw thee here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;4 And, but thou love me, let them find me here: My life were better ended by their hate,

Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love."

3 no let to me.] i. e. no stop or hindrance. So, in Hamlet: "By heaven I'll make a ghost of him that lets me." Thus the original edition. The subsequent copies read-no stop to me. Malone.

4 - from their sight;] So the first quarto. All the other ancient copies have-from their eyes. Malone

5 And, but thou love me, let them find me here:] And so thou do but love me, I care not what may befall me: Let me be found here. Such appears to me to be the meaning.

Mr. M. Mason thinks that "but thou love me," means, unless thou love me; grounding himself, I suppose, on the two subsequent lines. But those contain, in my apprehension, a distinct proposition. He first says, that he is content to be discovered, if he be but secure of her affection; and then adds, that death from the hands of her kinsmen would be preferable to life without her love. But, however, it must be acknowledged, has often in old English the meaning which Mr. M. Mason would here affix

to it.

Malone.

Mr. M. Mason is certainly in the right. So, in Antony and Cleopatra:

"But being charg'd, we will be still by land." Steevens. 6 Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.] The common acceptation of prorogue, is to postpone to a distant time, which is in fact to delay. But I believe in this place prorogued means continued; and that Romeo means, in the language of lovers, to represent life without her as a continual death:

"Death 's life with thee, without thee death to live."

M. Mason

Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.

I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far

As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea,

I would adventure for such merchandise.

Jul. Thou knows't, the mask of night is on my face;
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny

What I have spoke; But farewel compliment !7
Dost thou love me? I know, thou wilt say-Ay;
And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false; at lovers' perjuries,
They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou may'st think my haviour light:
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.*
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me;
And not impute this yieiding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,

Than death prorogued,] i. e. delayed, deferred to a more dis. tant period. So, in Act IV, sc. i:

7

"I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,

"On Thursday next be married to this county." Malone. -farewel compliment!] That is, farewel attention to forms.

M. Mason.

8 cunning to be strange.] Cunning is the reading of the quarto, 1597, and I have restored it.

To be strange, is to put on affected coldness, to appear shy. So, in Greene's Mamillia, 1593: "Is it the fashion in Padua to be so strange with your friends?"

Again, in one of the Paston Letters, Vol III, p. 327: "I pray ye that ye be not strange of writing of letters to me." Steevens. In the subsequent ancient copies cunning was changed to-coying. Malone.