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Enter ABRAM and BELTHASAR.
Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I
will back thee.

Gre. How? turn thy back, and run?
Sam. Fear me not.

Gre. No, marry: I fear thee!

Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let

them begin.

Gre. I will frown, as I pass by; and let them take it as they list.

Sum. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, Sir?
Sam. I do bite my thumb, Sir.

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, Sir?
Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say-ay?
Gre. No.

Sam. No, Sir, I do not bite my thumb at you,
Sir; but I bite my thumb, Sir.
Gre. Do you quarrel, Sir?
Abr. Quarrel, Sir? no, Sir.

Will they not hear?-what ho! you men, you
beasts,-

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mistemper'd* weapons to the
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.—
ground,
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet and Montague,
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets;
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partizans, in hands as old,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
If ever you disturo our streets again,
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time, all the rest depart away:
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
You, Capulet, shall go along with me;
To know our further pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgement-
place.

Sum. If you do, Sir, I am for you; I serve Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

as good a man as you.

Abr. No better.

Sam. Well, Sir.

Enter BENVOLIO, at a Distance.

[Exeunt PRINCE, and Attendants; CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, TYBALT, CITIZENS, and Servants.

Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new

abroach?

Gre. Say-better; here comes one of my Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? master's kinsmen.

Sam. Yes, better, Sir.

Abr. You lie.

Sam. Draw, if you be men.-Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. [They fight. Ben. Part, fools; put up your swords; you know not what you do.

[Beats down their Swords. Enter TYBALT.

Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these
heartless hinds?

Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.
Ben. I do but keep the peace; put up thy

sword,

Or manage it to part these men with me.
Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace?
hate the word,

As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
Have at thee, coward.

I

[They fight.
Enter several Partizans of both Houses, who join
the Fray; then enter CITIZENS, with Clubs.
1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partizans! strike!
beat them down!
[tagues!
Down with the Capulets! down with the Mon-

Enter CAPULET, in his Gown; and LADY
CAPULET.

Cap. What noise is this?-Give me my long
sword, ho!

La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch!-Why call you for a sword?

Cap. My sword, I say!-Old Montague is And flourishes his blade in spite of me. [come, Enter MONTAGUE, and LADY MONTAGUE. Mon. Thou villain, Capulet,-Hold me not,

let me go.

Lu. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek
a foe.

Enter PRINCE, with Attendants.
Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-

Clubs! was the usual exclamation at an aftray in the streets, as we now call Watch!

I

Ben. Here were the servants of your adver

sary,

drew to part them; in the instant caine And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd; Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn: He swung about his head, and cut the winds, were interchanging thrusts and blows, [part, Came more and more, and fought on part and Till the prince came, who parted either part. La. Mon. O, where is Romeo?-saw you him to-day?

While we

Right glad I am, he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd

sun,

Peer'dt forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
Where,-underneath the grove of sycamore,
So early walking did I see your son:
That westward rooteth from the city's side,-
Towards him I made; but he was 'ware of me,
And stole into the covert of the wood:
I, measuring his affections by my own,-
That most are busied when they are most
alone,-

Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been

seen,

[dew,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun [sighs:
Should in the furthest east begin to draw
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
And private in his chamber pens himself;
Away from light steals home my heavy son,
And makes himself an artificial night:
Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the

cause?

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Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means? Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends:

But he, his own affections' counsellor,
Is to himself-I will not say, how true-
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. [grow,
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows
We would as willingly give cure, as know.

Enter ROMEO, at a distance.

Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step aside;

I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy

stay,

To hear true shrift,-Come, madam, let's away. [Exeunt MONTAGUE, and LADY.

Ben. Good morrow, cousin. Rom. Is the day so young? Ben. But new struck nine. Rom. Ah me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast? Ben. It was:-What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

Rom. Not having that, which having, makes

them short.

Ben. In love?
Rom. Out-
Ben. Of love?

Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muilled still,

Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine?-O me!-What fray

was here ?

Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with

love:

Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing, of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick
health!

Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!-
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?

Ben. No, coz, I rather weep.

Rom. Good heart, at what?

Ben. At thy good heart's oppression.

Rom. Why, such is love's transgression.Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; Which thou wilt propagate, to have it press'd With more of thine: this love, that thou hast shown,

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in a lover's eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.

[Going.

Ben. Soft, I will go along; And if you leave me so, you do me wrong. Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not

here;

This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love.

In seriousness

Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee? Ben. Groan? why, no; But sadly tell me, who.

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:

Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill!-
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you
lov'd.

Rom. A right good marksman!-And she's fair I love.

Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

harm'd.

Rom. Well, in that Kit, you miss: she'll not With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; be hit And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow she lives unNor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O, she is rich in beauty; only poor, [store. That, when she dies, with beauty dies her Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live chaste?

Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes
huge waste;

For beauty, starv'd with her severity,
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair,
To merit bliss by making me despair:
She hath forsworn to love; and, in that vow,
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think.

Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
Examine other beauties.

To call hers, exquisite, in question more:
Rom. "Tis the way
These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies'
Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair;
brows,
He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight fost:
Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
Where I may read, who pass'd that passing
fair?

Farewell; thou canst not teach me to forget.
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in
debt.
[Exeunt.

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Come, go with me;-Go, Sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out,
Whose names are written there, [Gives a Pa-
per.] and to them say,

879

Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the
lively Helena.

A fair assembly; [Gives back the Note.]
Whither should they come?

Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither?

Serv. To supper; to our house.
Rom. Whose house?

Serv. My master's.

Rom. Indeed, I should have asked you that before.

Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: My master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.* Rest you merry!

[Exit.

Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st;
Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
With all the admired beauties of Verona:
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to
And these,-who, often drown'd, could never
fires!
[die,-
Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!

gun.

My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS. Serv. Find them out, whose names are writ-One fairer than my love! th' all-seeing sun ten here? It is written-that the shoemaker Ne'er saw her match, since first the world beshould meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned: -In good time.

Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO.

Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning,

One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another's

languish:

Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of th' old will die.

Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for
that.

Ben. For what, I pray thee?

Rom. For your broken shin.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?

Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad-I

man is:

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Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd, and tormented, and
good fellow.
Serv. God gi' good e'en.-I pray, Sir, can

you read?

Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book:

But I pray, can you read any thing you see?
Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the lan-
guage.

Serv. Ye say honestly; Rest you merry!
Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read.
[Reads.

Signior Martino, and his wife, and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior

* To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare is to possess. + Estimation.

Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else be-
Herself pois'd+ with herself in either eye:
ing by,
But in those crystal scales, let there be
weigh'd

Your lady's love against some other maid
That I will show you, shining at this feast,
And she shall scant show well, that now
shows best.

Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be
shown,

But to rejoice in splendour of mine own.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III-A Room in CAPULET'S House.
Enter Lady CAPULET and NURSE.

La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call
her forth to me.

Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead,—at twelve
year old,
bade her come.-What, lamb! what, lady-
[bird!-
God forbid!-where's this girl?-what, Juliet!
Enter JULIET.

Jul. How now, who calls?
Nurse. Your mother.

Jul. Madam, I am here,
What is your will?

La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give
leave awhile,
We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back
[again;
I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our
counsel.

Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

La. Cap. She's not fourteen.

Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,
And yet, to my teens be it spoken, I have but
four,-

She is not fourteen: How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?

*We still say in cant language-to crack a bottle.
+ Weighed. + Scarce, hardly. To my sorrow

La. Cap. A fortnight, and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be four

teen.

Susan and she,-God rest all Christian souls!-
Were of an age.-Well, Susan is with God;
She was too good for me: But, as I said,
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
"Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget
it,-

Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall,
My lord and you were then at Mantua :-
Nay, I do bear a brain :*-but, as I said,
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool!
To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug.
Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need,
I trow,

To bid me trudge.

And since that time it is eleven years:
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the
rood,t

She could have run and waddled all about.
For even the day before, she broke her brow:
And then my husband-God be with his soul!
'A was a merry man;-took up the child:
Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou hast more wit;
Will thou not, Jule? and by my holy-dam,
The pretty wretch left crying, and said—Ây:
To see now, how a jest shall come about!
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule?
quoth he:

And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said-Ay.
La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold
thy peace.

Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot choose but laugh,

To think it should leave crying, and say-Ay:
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone;
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly.
Yea, quoth my husband, fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward, when thou com'st to age;
Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said-ly.
Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse,
say 1.

Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee

to his grace!

Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd:
An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.

La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very

theme

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Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man,

As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax. La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.

La. Cap. What say you? can you love the gentleman?

This night you shall behold him at our feast:
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every married lineament,

And see how one another lends content;
And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
The fish lives in the sea; and 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide :
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.

Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by men.

La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?

Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye, Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Enter a SERVANT.

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.

La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays.

Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV-A Street.

Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with fire or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others. Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without apology?

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity: We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper ;|| After the prompter, for our entrance: We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. But, let them measure us by what they will, Rom. Give me a torch,**-1 am not for this

ambling;

Being but heavy, I will bear the light. Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes,

With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead, So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move.

* Well made, as if he had been modelled in wax.

+ The comments on ancient books were always printed in the margin.

† 1. e. Is not yet caught, whose skin was wanted to band him.

1. c. Long speeches are out of fashion.

A scare-crow, a figure made up to frighten crows.
A dance.

** A torch-bearer was a constant appendage to every troop of maskers

Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's | O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on

wings,

And soar with them above a common bound. Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft, To soar with his light feathers; and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden
love;

Too great oppression for a tender thing.
Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like
thorn.

Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love; [down. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love Give me a case to put my visage in: [Putting on a Mask. A visor for a visor!-what care I, What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me. Ben. Come, knock, and enter; and no sooner But every man betake him to his legs. [in, Rom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of heart,

Tickle the senseless rushest with their heels;
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase,-
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on,-
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.‡
Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's
own word:

If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou stick'st

Up to the ears.-Come, we burn day-light, ho. Rom. Nay, that's not so.

Mer. I mean, Sir, in delay

We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning; for our judgement sits Five times in that, ere once in our five wits. Rom. And we mean well, in going to this But 'tis no wit to go.

Mer. Why, may one ask?

Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
Mer. And so did I.

Rom. Well, what was yours?
Mer. That dreamers often lie.

[mask;

Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream things true.

Mer. O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you.

She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep:
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners'
legs;

The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web;
The collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams:
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash of film:
Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid :
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream
of love:
[straight:
On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies

* Observe.

It was anciently the custom to strew rooms with rushes. This is equivalent to phrases in common use-I am done for, it is over with me.

Atoms.

fees:

Q'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream; Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted

are.

Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:*
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's
tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and
wakes;
[two,
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab,
That plats the manes of horses in the night;
And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluggish hairs,
Which, once untangled, much misfortune
bodes.

This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them, and learns them first to bear,

Making them women of good carriage.
This, this is she-

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace;
Thou talk'st of nothing.

Mer. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air; And more inconstant than the wind, who

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SCENE V.-A Hall in CAPULET'S House. Musicians waiting. Enter SERVANTS.

1 Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher!

2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.

1 Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate:-good thou, save me a piece of marchpane ; and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell.-Antony! and Potpan! 2 Serv. Ay, boy; ready.

1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, asked for, and sought for, in the great chamber. 2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too.Cheerly, boys; be brisk a while, and the longer liver take all.' [They retire behind.

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