THAT at least is not a link in the chain let down from other worlds;
'the purple light of love' is not a dim reflection of the smiles of
celestial bliss. It does not appear till the middle of life, and
then seems like 'another morn risen on midday'. In this respect the
soul comes into the world 'in utter nakedness'. Love waits for the
ripening of the youthful blood. The sense of pleasure precedes the
love of pleasure, but with the sense of pleasure, as soon as it is
felt, come thronging infinite desires and hopes of pleasure, and
love is mature as soon as born. It withers and it dies almost as
soon!
This play presents a beautiful coup d'oeil of the progress of human
life. In thought it occupies years, and embraces the circle of the
affections from childhood to old age. Juliet has become a great
girl, a young woman since we first remember her a little thing in
the idle prattle of the nurse. Lady Capulet was about her age when
she became a mother, and old Capulet somewhat impatiently tells his
younger visitors:
--I've seen the day,
That I have worn a visor, and could tell
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone.
Thus one period of life makes way for the following, and one
generation pushes another off the stage. One of the most striking
passages to show the intense feeling of youth in this play is
Capulet's invitation to Paris to visit his entertainment.
Pages:
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169