Enter Sampson and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers, of the House of Capulet.
Sampson. Regory: A my word wee'l not carry coales.
Greg. No, for then we should be Colliars.
Samp. I mean, if we be in choller, wee'l draw.
Greg. I, While you liue, draw your necke out o'th Collar.
Samp. I strike quickly, being mou'd.
Greg. But thou art not quickly mou'd to strike.
Samp. A dog of the house of Mountague, moues me.
Greg. To moue, is to stir: and to be valiant, is to stand: Therefore, if thou art mou'd, thou runst away.
Samp. A dogge of that house shall moue me to stand. I will take the wall of any Man or Maid of Mountagues.
Greg. That shewes thee a weake slaue, for the weakest goes to the wall.
Samp. True, and therefore women being the weaker Vessels, are euer thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Mountagues men from the wall, and thrust his Maides to the wall.
Greg. The Quarrell is betweene our Masters, and vs their men.
Samp. 'Tis all one, I will shew my selfe a tyrant: when I haue fought with the men, I will bee ciuill with the Maids, and cut off their heads.
Greg. The heads of the Maids?
Sam. I, the heads of the Maids, or their Maiden-heads, Take it in what sence thou wilt.
Greg. They must take it sence, that feele it.
Samp. Me they shall feele while I am able to stand: And 'tis knowne I am a pretty peece of flesh.
Greg. 'Tis well thou art not Fish: If thou had'st, thou had'st beene poore Iohn. Draw thy Toole, here comes of the House of the Mountagues.
Enter two other Seruingmen.
Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I wil back thee
Gre. How? Turne thy backe, and run.
Sam. Feare me not.
Gre. No marry: I feare thee.
Sam. Let vs take the Law of our sides: let them begin.
Gr. I wil frown as I passe by, & let thē take it as they list
Sam. Nay, as they dare. I wil bite my Thumb at them, which is a disgrace to them, if they beare it.
Abra. Do you bite your Thumbe at vs sir?
Samp. I do bite my Thumbe, sir.
Abra. Do you bite your Thumb at vs, sir?
Sam. Is the Law of our side, if I say I?
Gre. No.
Sam. No sir, I do not bite my Thumbe at you sir: but I bite my Thumbe sir.
Greg. Do you quarrell sir?
Abra. Quarrell sir? no sir.
Sam. If you do sir, I am for you, I serue as good a man as you
Abra. No better?
Samp. Well sir.
Enter Benuolio.
Gr. Say better: here comes one of my masters kinsmen.
Samp. Yes, better.
Abra. You Lye.
Samp. Draw if you be men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow. They Fight.
Ben. Part Fooles, put vp your Swords, you know not what you do.
Enter Tibalt.
Tyb. What art thou drawne, among these heartlesse Hindes? Turne thee Benuolio, looke vpon thy death.
Ben. I do but keepe the peace, put vp thy Sword, Or manage it to part these men with me.
Tyb. What draw, and talke of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell, all Mountagues, and thee: Haue at thee Coward. Fight.
Enter three or foure Citizens with Clubs.
Offi. Clubs, Bils, and Partisons, strike, beat them down Downe with the Capulets, downe with the Mountagues.
Enter old Capulet in his Gowne, and his wife.
Cap. What noise is this? Giue me my long Sword ho.
Wife. A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword?
Cap. My Sword I say: Old Mountague is come, And flourishes his Blade in spight of me.
Enter old Mountague, & his wife.
Moun. Thou villaine Capulet. Hold me not, let me go
2. Wife. Thou shalt not stir a foote to seeke a Foe.
Enter Prince Eskales, with his Traine.
Prince. Rebellious Subiects, Enemies to peace, Prophaners of this Neighbor-stained Steele, Will they not heare? What hoe, you Men, you Beasts, That quench the fire of your pernitious Rage, With purple Fountaines issuing from your Veines: On paine of Torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd Weapons to the ground, And heare the Sentence of your mooued Prince. Three ciuill Broyles, bred of an Ayery word, By thee old Capulet and Mountague, Haue thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient Citizens Cast by their Graue beseeming Ornaments, To wield old Partizans, in hands as old, Cankred with peace, to part your Cankred hate, If euer you disturbe our streets againe, Your liues shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the rest depart away: You Capulet shall goe along with me, And Mountague come you this afternoone, To know our Fathers pleasure in this case: To old Free-towne, our common iudgement place: Exeunt.Once more on paine of death, all men depart.
Moun. Who set this auncient quarrell new abroach? Speake Nephew, were you by, when it began:
Ben. Heere were the seruants of your aduersarie, And yours close fighting ere I did approach, I drew to part them, in the instant came The fiery Tibalt, with his sword prepar'd, Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares, He swong about his head, and cut the windes, Who nothing hurt withall, hist him in scorne. While we were enterchanging thrusts and blowes, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part
Wife. O where is Romeo, saw you him to day? Right glad am I, he was not at this fray
Ben. Madam, an houre before the worshipt Sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the East, A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad, Where vnderneath the groue of Sycamour, That West-ward rooteth from this City side: So earely walking did I see your Sonne: Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, And stole into the couert of the wood, I measuring his affections by my owne, Which then most sought, wher most might not be found: Being one too many by my weary selfe, Pursued my Honour, not pursuing his And gladly shunn'd, who gladly fled from me
Mount. Many a morning hath he there beene seene, With teares augmenting the fresh mornings deaw, Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepe sighes, But all so soone as the all-cheering Sunne, Should in the farthest East begin to draw The shadie Curtaines from Auroras bed, Away from light steales home my heauy Sonne, And priuate in his Chamber pennes himselfe, Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day-light out, And makes himselfe an artificiall night: Blacke and portendous must this humour proue, Vnlesse good counsell may the cause remoue
Ben. My Noble Vncle doe you know the cause?
Moun. I neither know it, nor can learne of him
Ben. Haue you importun'd him by any meanes?
Moun. Both by my selfe and many other Friends, But he his owne affections counseller, Is to himselfe (I will not say how true) But to himselfe so secret and so close, So farre from sounding and discouery, As is the bud bit with an enuious worme, Ere he can spread his sweete leaues to the ayre, Or dedicate his beauty to the same. Could we but learne from whence his sorrowes grow, We would as willingly giue cure, as know.
Enter Romeo.
Ben. See where he comes, so please you step aside, Ile know his greeuance, or be much denide.
Moun. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, Exeunt.To heare true shrift. Come Madam let's away.
Ben. Good morrow Cousin.
Rom. Is the day so young?
Ben. But new strooke nine.
Rom. Aye me, sad houres seeme long: Was that my Father that went hence so fast?
Ben. It was: what sadnes lengthens Romeo's houres?
Ro. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them short
Ben. In loue.
Romeo. Out.
Ben. Of loue.
Rom. Out of her fauour where I am in loue.
Ben. Alas that loue so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proofe.
Rom. Alas that loue, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes, see path-wayes to his will: Where shall we dine? O me: what fray was heere? Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all: Heere's much to do with hate, but more with loue: Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate, O any thing, of nothing first created: O heauie lightnesse, serious vanity, Mishapen Chaos of welseeming formes, Feather of lead, bright smoake, cold fire, sicke health, Still waking sleepe, that is not what it is: This loue feele I, that feele no loue in this. Doest thou not laugh?
Ben. No Coze, I rather weepe.
Rom. Good heart, at what?
Ben. At thy good hearts oppression.
Rom. Why such is loues transgression. Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preast With more of thine, this loue that thou hast showne, Doth adde more griefe, to too much of mine owne. Loue, is a smoake made with the fume of sighes, Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in Louers eyes, Being vext, a Sea nourisht with louing teares, What is it else? a madnesse, most discreet, A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet: Farewell my Coze.
Ben. Soft I will goe along. And if you leaue me so, you do me wrong.
Rom. Tut I haue lost my selfe, I am not here, This is not Romeo, hee's some other where.
Ben. Tell me in sadnesse, who is that you loue?
Rom. What shall I grone and tell thee?
Ben. Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who.
Rom. A sicke man in sadnesse makes his will: A word ill vrg'd to one that is so ill: In sadnesse Cozin, I do loue a woman.
Ben. I aym'd so neare, when I suppos'd you lou'd.
Rom. A right good marke man, and shee's faire I loue
Ben. A right faire marke, faire Coze, is soonest hit.
Rom. Well in that hit you misse, sheel not be hit With Cupids arrow, she hath Dians wit: And in strong proofe of chastity well arm'd: From loues weake childish Bow, she liues vncharm'd. Shee will not stay the siege of louing tearmes, Nor bid th'encounter of assailing eyes. Nor open her lap to Sainct-seducing Gold: O she is rich in beautie, onely poore, That when she dies, with beautie dies her store.
Ben. Then she hath sworne, that she will still liue chast?
Rom. She hath, and in that sparing make huge wast? For beauty steru'd with her seuerity, Cuts beauty off from all posteritie. She is too faire, too wise wi:sely too faire, To merit blisse by making me dispaire: She hath forsworne to loue, and in that vow Do I liue dead, that liue to tell it now.
Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to thinke of her.
Rom. O teach me how I should forget to thinke.
Ben. By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes, Examine other beauties.
Ro. 'Tis the way to cal hers (exquisit) in question more, These happy maskes that kisse faire Ladies browes, Being blacke, puts vs in mind they hide the faire: He that is strooken blind, cannot forget The precious treasure of his eye-sight lost: Shew me a Mistresse that is passing faire, What doth her beauty serue but as a note, Where I may read who past that passing faire. Farewell thou can'st not teach me to forget,
Ben. ExeuntIle pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
Regory: A my word wee'l not carry coales.
Regory: A my word wee'l not carry coales.