the quietudes of the cloister, or from amid the morning dew of the fields; but botany is not the science of human life. Even Romeo's earlier self, with his amorous melancholy, becomes the critic of his later self, when a true and final election has been made, and when love has become the risen sun of his day. As for Juliet, her words—
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,
may serve for an inscription beneath that statue of pure gold of which Shakespeare was the artist.
It may interest some readers to have before them the dialogue, in the eighteenth-century taste, of Romeo and Juliet in the tomb, as it reached our ancestors,—somewhat modish ancestors perhaps,—and drew forth their tears, in the version of Garrick.
| Rom. | Soft she breathes, and stirs! [Juliet wakes. |
| Jul. | Where am I? defend me powers! |
| Rom. | She speaks, she lives: and we shall still be bless'd My kind propitious stars o'er pay me now For all my sorrows past—rise, rise, my Juliet, And from this cave of death, this house of horror, Quick let me snatch thee to thy Romeo's arms, There breathe a vital spirit in thy lips, And call thee back to life and love. [Takes her hand. |
| Jul. | Bless me! how cold it is! who's there! |
| Rom. | Thy husband, 'Tis thy Romeo, Juliet; rais'd from despair To joys unutt'rable! quit, quit this place, And let us fly together— [Brings her from the tomb. |
| Jul. | Why do you force me so—I'll ne'er consent— My strength may fail me, but my will's unmov'd,— I'll not wed Paris,—Romeo is my husband— |
| Rom. | Her senses are unsettled—Heav'n restore 'em! |
