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The debate among the characters in the coffee-room reflects actual political debates in late 18 th -century Britain. Jellyband accuses Hempseed of being “a personal friend of Mr. Pitt”—a reference to Prime Minister William Pitt, who was initially sympathetic to the French Revolutionary cause (although he changed his mind when France invaded the Low Countries)—and saying, “along with Mr. Fox: ‘Let ‘em murder!’”—a reference to Foreign Secretary Charles James Fox, who also supported the French Revolution (he said, of the storming of the Bastille, “How much the greatest event it is that ever happened in the world! and how much the best!”), and who worked for such domestic reform efforts as repealing the limits on the liberties of Catholics and other dissenters. Jellyband seems to view all such work as unwelcome agitation: he views his (former?) friend Peppercorn as a traitor to the English crown (at the time, George III reigned). In Britain, the French Revolution divided Parliament and populace alike, as this chapter illustrates.
Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
ROMEO It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
JULIET Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.
ROMEO Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
I have more care to stay than will to go:
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.
JULIET It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
Some say the lark makes sweet division;
This doth not so, for she divideth us:
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,
O, now I would they had changed voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day,
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
ROMEO More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!
Enter Nurse, to the chamber