And (in my company) my brother-Gloster,-
Who (from my cabin) tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches: thence we looked toward England,
And cited up-a thousand-fearful times,
(During the wars of York-and Lancaster,)
Th't had befallen us. As we pass'd along-
Upon the giddy footing-of the hatches-
Methought-th't Gloster-stumbled; and, (in falling,)
Struck me,-(th't sought to stay him,)—overboard,
Into the tumbling billows-of the main.

O Heaven! Methought-what pain it is—to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters-in my ears!
What sights-of ugly death-within my eyes!
I thought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
Ten thousand men, th't fishes-gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold,-great anchors,-heaps of pearl,—
Inestimable stones,-unvalued jewels,

All-scattered-in the bottom

of the sea!

Some-lay in dead men's skulls; and, (in those holes-
Where eyes once did inhabit,) there-were crept,—
(As 't were, in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems,—
Th't woo'd the slimy bottom-of the deep,-
And mock'd-the dead bones-that lay scatter'd by.
Brak. Had you such leisure,—(in the time of death,)
To gaze upon the secrets-of the deep?

Clar. Methought I had; and often-did I strive
To yield the ghost: but still-the envious flood-
Kept in my soul,—and would not-let it forth-
To seek the empty,—vast,—and wandering air;
But smothered it-within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst-to belch it-in the sea.

Brak. Awak'd you not-with this sore agony?

Clar. Oh, no! my dream-was lengthened-after life;

Oh! then-began the tempest-to my soul!
Who pass'd-(methought)-the melancholy flood,-
With that grim ferryman—(which poets write of,)—
Unto the kingdom-of perpetual night!

The first-th't there-did greet my stranger soul—
Was my great father-in-law,-(renowned Warwick,)
Who cried aloud,-'What scourge—for perjury-
Can this dark monarchy-afford false Clarence?'
And so―he-vanished. Then-came-(wandering by)—
A shadow-like an angel,—with bright hair—
Dabbled in blood :—and he-squeaked out-aloud,—
'Clarence-is come! false, fleeting,—perjured Clarence,—
Th't stabbed me—in the field of Tewksbury ;
Seize on him, furies!-take him-to your torments!'
With that-(methought)—a legion-of foul fiends-
Environed me about,—and howled—(in mine ears)—

Such hideous cries,-th't, (with the very noise,)
I-(trembling)-waked,-and-(for a season-after)

I could not believe-but th't I was in hell!
Such terrible impression-made my dream.

Brak. No marvel,—(my lord,) th't it affrighted you:
I promise you—I—am afraid—to hear you tell it.
Clar. O (Brakenbury!) I have done-those things—
(Which now-give evidence-against my soul,)
For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me!
O God! if my deep prayers-can not appease thee,
But-thou wilt be avenged-on my misdeeds,
Yet-execute-thy wrath-on me alone:

Oh! spare-my guiltless wife,-and my poor children! ·
I prithee,-(Brakenbury,) stay-by me;

My soul-is heavy,—and I fain-would sleep.

Brak. I will,-(my lord;) God-give your grace-good rest. Sorrow-breaks seasons—and reposing hours,—

Makes the night-morning-and the noontide-night.
Princes-have but their titles-for their glories,-

An outward-honor-for an inward—toil,

And-(for unfelt-imagination)

They often feel a world-of restless cares!
So th't between their titles-and low name

There's nothing-differs—but the outward—fame !

XXVI.-ROMEO AND JULIET. SHAKESPEARE.

Romeo. He-jests—at scars, th't never felt a wound.
[Juliet appears at a window.
But-soft! what light-through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet-is the sun!

Arise,—(fair sun,) and kill—the envious moon,
Who is already-sick-and pale-with grief,

That thou,—(her maid,) art far more fair—than she:
Be not-her maid,-since she-is envious;

Her vestal livery—is but sick-and green,

And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

It is my lady! Oh, it is my love!

Oh! th't she knew-she were!

She speaks, yet she says nothing: what of that?

Her eye-discourses: I will answer it.

I am too bold,—'t is not to me she speaks :
Two of the fairest stars-in all the heaven,
(Having some business,) do entreat her eyes—
To twinkle-in their spheres-till they return.
What-if her eyes-were there,-they-in her head?
The brightness of her cheek—would shame those stars,
As daylight-doth a lamp; her eye in heaven—

Would-(through the airy region) stream so bright,
Th't birds would sing, and think-it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek-upon her hand!

Oh! th't I were a glove-upon that hand,

Th't I might touch-that cheek!

She speaks!

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

Unto the white-upturned, wond'ring eyes—

Of mortals-th't 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. [aside.] Shall I hear more,-or shall I speak at this? Jul. 'Tis but thy name-th't is my enemy;Thou art thyself,-though-not a Montague. What's Montague? it is-nor hand,- -nor foot,Nor arms, nor face,-nor any other partBelonging to a man. Oh, be some other name! What's-in a name? that-which we call-a rose By any other namee-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.

Rom.

I take thee at thy word:

Call me but love,-and I'll be new baptized;

Henceforth-I never will be Romeo.

Jul. What man-art thou-th't, (thus-bescreen'd by night,) So stumblest-on my counsel?

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 thy tongue's utterance,—yet—I know—the sound:

Art thou-not Romeo, and a Montague?

Rom. Neither,-(fair maid,) if either-thee dislike.

Jul. How-camest 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-can not hold love out:

And what love-can do-that-dares love-attempt;
Therefore-thy kinsmen-are no stop-to me.

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 eyes;
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.

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 farthest sea,—
I would adventure-for such merchandise.

Jul. Thou know'st-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-farewell-compliment !
Dost thou-love me? I know-thou wilt say,—'Aye,'
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 'havior light:
But trust me,-(gentleman,)—I'll prove more true—
Than those-th't have more cunning—to be strange.
I-should have been more strange,-I must confess,
But-th't thou overheard st, (ere I was 'ware,)
My true love's passion: therefore, pardon me;
And not impute this yielding—to light love,

Which the dark night-hath so discover'd.

Rom. Lady,-by yonder blessed moon—I swear,

Th't tips—(with silver)—all these fruit-tree tops

Jul. Oh, swear not—by the moon,—the inconstant moon,

Th't monthly-changes-in her circled orb,

Lest-th't thy love-prove-(likewise)—variable.

Rom. What shall I swear by?

Do not swear,-at all;

Jul.
Or,-(if thou wilt,) swear-by thy gracious self,

Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy-in thee,

I have no joy-of this contract'-to-night;

It is too rash,-too unadvised,-too sudden;
Too-like the lightning, which doth cease-to be
Ere one can say 'It lightens !' Sweet,-good night!
This bud of love,-(by summer's ripening breath,)———
May prove a beauteous flower-when next we meet.
Good night, good night! as sweet repose-and rest
Come to thy heart-as that-within my breast!

Rom. Oh! wilt thou-leave me-so-unsatisfied?
Jul. What satisfaction-canst thou have to-night?
Rom. The exchange-of thy love's faithful vow-for mine.
Jul. I gave thee-mine-before thou didst request it:
And yet I would-it were-to give again.

Rom. Wouldst thou-withdraw it? for what purpose,-love?
Jul. But, to be frank,—to give it thee—again.

And yet I wish-but for the thing-I have:

My bounty is as boundless-as the sea;
My love-as deep; the more-I give to thee,
The more I have; for both are infinite.
I hear some noise-within: dear love,-adieu!
Anon,-good nurse!-Sweet Montague,-be true.
Stay-but a little,-I will come again.

Rom. O blessed,—blessed night! I am afeard,
(Being in night,)—all this-is but a dream,
Too-flattering-sweet-to be substantial.

[Nurse calls within.

[Exit.

[Re-enter Juliet, above.

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo,-and good night—indeed. If-th't thy bent of love-be honorable,

Thy purpose-marriage,—send me word-to-morrow,

By one-th't I'll procure-to-come to thee,

Where-and what time-thou wilt perform the rite;

And all my fortunes-at thy foot-I'll lay,

And follow thee,-(my lord,) throughout the world.
Nurse [within.] Madam!

Jul. I come,-anon! But—if thou mean'st not well,
I do beseech thee-

Jul. A thousand times-good-night!

[Exit.

Rom. A thousand times-the worse to want thy light.

Love-goes toward love—as school-boys-from their books;
But love-from love—toward school with heavy looks.
[Re-enter Juliet, above.

[Retiring.