Verona. A Public Place. | |
| |
Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, armed with swords and bucklers. | |
| Sam. Gregory, o’ my word, we’ll not carry coals. | |
| Gre. No. for then we should be colliers. | 4 |
| Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we’ll draw. | |
| Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o’ the collar. | |
| Sam. I strike quickly, being moved. | |
| Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. | 8 |
| Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. | |
| Gre. To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand; therefore, if thou art moved, thou runnest away. | |
| Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague’s. | |
| Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. | 12 |
| Sam. ’Tis true; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague’s men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall. | |
| Gre. The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. | |
| Sam. ’Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids; I will cut off their heads. | |
| Gre. The heads of the maids? | 16 |
| Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt. | |
| Gre. They must take it in sense that feel it. | |
| Sam. Me they shall feel while I am able to stand; and ’tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. | |
| Gre. ’Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool; here comes two of the house of the Montagues. | 20 |
| |
Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR. | |
| Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will back thee. | |
| Gre. How! turn thy back and run? | |
| Sam. Fear me not. | 24 |
| 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. | |
| Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. | 28 |
| 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. [Aside to GREGORY.] Is the law of our side if I say ay? | 32 |
| Gre. [Aside to SAMPSON.] 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. | 36 |
| Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you. | |
| Abr. No better. | |
| Sam. Well, sir. | |
| Gre. [Aside to SAMPSON.] Say, ‘better;’ here comes one of my master’s kinsmen. | 40 |
| Sam. Yes, better, sir. | |
| Abr. You lie. | |
| Sam. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. [They fight. | |
| |
Enter BENVOLIO. | 44 |
| 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? | 48 |
| 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? I hate the word, | 52 |
| As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee. | |
| Have at thee, coward! [They fight. | |
| |
Enter several persons of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs and partisans. | |
| Citizens. Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down! | 56 |
| Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues! | |
| |
Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET. | |
| Cap. What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! | |
| Lady Cap. A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword? | 60 |
| Cap. Mysword, I say! Old Montague is come, | |
| And flourishes his blade in spite of me. | |
| |
Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE. | |
| Mon. Thou villain Capulet! Hold me not; let me go. | 64 |
| Lady Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. | |
| |
Enter PRINCE with his Train. | |
| Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, | |
| Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,— | 68 |
| 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 | 72 |
| Throw your mis-temper’d weapons to the ground, | |
| And hear the sentence of your moved prince. | |
| Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, | |
| By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, | 76 |
| Have thrice disturb’d the quiet of our streets, | |
| And made Verona’s ancient citizens | |
| Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, | |
| To wield old partisans, in hands as old, | 80 |
| Canker’d with peace, to part your canker’d hate. | |
| If ever you disturb our streets again | |
| Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. | |
| For this time, all the rest depart away: | 84 |
| You, Capulet, shall go along with me; | |
| And, Montague, come you this afternoon | |
| To know our further pleasure in this case, | |
| To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. | 88 |
| Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. [Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO. | |
| Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? | |
| Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? | |
| Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary | 92 |
| And yours close fighting ere I did approach: | |
| I drew to part them; in the instant came | |
| The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar’d, | |
| Which, as he breath’d defiance to my ears, | 96 |
| He swung about his head, and cut the winds, | |
| Who, nothing hurt withal hiss’d him in scorn. | |
| While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, | |
| Came more and more, and fought on part and part, | 100 |
| Till the prince came, who parted either part. | |
| Lady Mon. O! where is Romeo? saw you him to-day? | |
| Right glad I am he was not at this fray. | |
| Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp’d sun | 104 |
| Peer’d forth the golden window of the east, | |
| A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; | |
| Where, underneath the grove of sycamore | |
| That westward rooteth from the city’s side, | 108 |
| So early walking did I see your son: | |
| 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, | 112 |
| That most are busied when they’re 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, | 116 |
| With tears augmenting the fresh morning’s dew, | |
| Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs: | |
| But all so soon as the all-cheering sun | |
| Should in the furthest east begin to draw | 120 |
| The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed, | |
| Away from light steals home my heavy son, | |
| And private in his chamber pens himself, | |
| Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, | 124 |
| And makes himself an artificial night. | |
| Black and portentous must this humour prove | |
| Unless good counsel may the cause remove. | |
| Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? | 128 |
| Mon. I neither know it nor can learn of him. | |
| Ben. Have you importun’d him by any means? | |
| Mon. Both by myself and many other friends: | |
| But he, his own affections’ counsellor, | 132 |
| 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, | 136 |
| Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, | |
| Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. | |
| Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, | |
| We would as willingly give cure as know. | 140 |
| 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. | 144 |
| |
Enter ROMEO. | |
| Ben. Good morrow, cousin. | |
| Rom. Is the day so young? | |
| Ben. But new struck nine. | 148 |
| Rom. Ay 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. | 152 |
| Ben. In love? | |
| Rom. Out— | |
| Ben. Of love? | |
| Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. | 156 |
| Ben. Alas! that love, so gentle in his view, | |
| Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof. | |
| Rom. Alas! that love, whose view is muffled still, | |
| Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will. | 160 |
| 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! | 164 |
| 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! | 168 |
| 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. | 172 |
| 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, | 176 |
| 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; | 180 |
| Being purg’d, a fire sparkling in lovers’ 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. | 184 |
| Farewell, my coz. [Going. | |
| Ben. Soft, I will go along; | |
| An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. | |
| Rom. Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here; | 188 |
| This is not Romeo, he’s some other where. | |
| Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. | |
| Rom. What! shall I groan and tell thee? | |
| Ben. Groan! why, no; | 192 |
| 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. | 196 |
| Ben. I aim’d so near when I suppos’d you lov’d. | |
| Rom. A right good mark-man! And she’s fair I love. | |
| Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. | |
| Rom. Well, in that hit you miss: she’ll not be hit | 200 |
| With Cupid’s arrow; she hath Dian’s wit; | |
| And, in strong proof of chastity well arm’d, | |
| From love’s weak childish bow she lives unharm’d. | |
| She will not stay the siege of loving terms, | 204 |
| Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, | |
| Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: | |
| O! she is rich in beauty; only poor | |
| That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. | 208 |
| 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. | 212 |
| 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. | 216 |
| 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. | 220 |
| Rom. ’Tis the way | |
| To call hers exquisite, in question more. | |
| These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows | |
| Being black put us in mind they hide the fair; | 224 |
| He, that is strucken blind cannot forget | |
| The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: | |
| Show me a mistress that is passing fair, | |
| What doth her beauty serve but as a note | 228 |
| 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. | |
