"Take thou this phial, being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off: When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, which shall seize Each vital spirit, &c. And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt remain _full two and forty hours_, And then awake as from a pleasant sleep." Juliet retires to bed on Tuesday night, at a somewhat early hour. Her mother says after she departs, "'Tis now near night." Say it is eleven o'clock: forty-two hours from that hour bring us to five o'clock in the evening of Thursday; and yet we find the time of her awakening fixed in profound darkness, and not long before the dawn. We should allow at least ten hours more, and read, "Thou shalt remain full _two and fifty_ hours,"-- which would fix her awakening at three o'clock in the morning, a time which has been marked in a former scene as the approach of day. "_Cap._ Come, stir, stir, stir! The second cock has crow'd,-- The curfew bell hath rung,--'tis three o'clock." Immediately after he says, "Good faith, 'tis day." This observation may appear superfluously minute; but those who take the pains of reading the play critically will find that it is dated throughout with a most exact attention to hours. We can time almost every event. Ex. gr. Juliet dismisses the nurse on her errand to Romeo when the clock struck nine, and complains that she has not returned at twelve. At twelve she does return, and Juliet immediately proceeds to Friar Lawrence's cell, where she is married without delay. Romeo parts with his bride at once, and meets his friends while "the day is hot." Juliet at the same hour addresses her prayer to the fiery-footed steeds of Phœbus, too slowly for her feelings progressing towards the west. The same exactness is observed in every part of the play. I may remark, as another instance of Romeo's ill luck, the change of the original wedding-day. When pressed by Paris, old Capulet says that "Wednesday is too soon,--on Thursday let it be;" but afterwards, when he imagines that his daughter is inclined to consult his wishes, he fixes it for Wednesday, even though his wife observes that Thursday is time enough. Had this day not been lost, the letter of Friar Lawrence might still have been forwarded to Mantua to explain what had occurred.] THE PIPER'S PROGRESS. BY FATHER PROUT. 1. When I was a boy In my father's mud edifice, Tender and bare As a pig in a sty; Out of the door as I Looked with a steady phiz, Who but Thade Murphy, The piper, went by; Says Thady, "But few play This music--can _you_ play?" Says I, "I can't tell, For I never did try." So he told me that _he_ had a charm To make the pipes purtily speak; Then squeezed a bag under his arm, When sweetly they set up a squeak! _Fa-ra-la la-ra-la loo!_