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TYBALT, nephew to Lady Capulet. Friar LAURENCE, a franciscan. Friar JOHN, of the same order. BALTHAZAR, servant to Romeo. SAMPSON,
servants to Capulet.
ABRAM, servant to Montague.
Lady MONTAGUE, wife to Montague.
Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, relations to both houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants.
SCENE, - during the greater Part of the Play, in VERONA: once in the Fifth Act, u MANtua.
Gre. To move is -to stir; and to be valiant, is -to stand to it: therefore, if thou art mov'd, thou run'st 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.
Sam. 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?
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
Gre. How? turn thy back, and run?
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.
Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir.
Gre. Do you quarrel, sir?
Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you; I serve as good a man as you.
Abr. No better.
Sam. Well, sir.
Enter BENVOLIO, at a distance.
Gre. Say-better; here comes one of my 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.
Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these hartless 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? I hate the wold,
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!
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!
La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch !—Why call you for a sword?
Cap. My sword, 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.
La. 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, Will they not hear? what ho! you men, you
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
[Exeunt PRINCE and Attendants; CAPULET,
Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?— Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began?
Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary, 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, 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, Till the prince came, who parted either part. La. Mon. O, where is Romeo! To-day?
saw you him
Right glad I am, he was not at this fray. Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; Where, underneath the grove of sycamore, [They fight. That westward rooteth from the city's side,
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: Have at thee, coward.
So early walking did I see your son:
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen,
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him. Ben. Have you impórtun'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-
So far from sounding and discovery,
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
Enter ROMEO, at a distance.
Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step aside;
Is the day so young?
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!
No, coz, 1 rather weep.
Rom. Good heart, at what?
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 prest 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 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. Farewell, my coz.
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; This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love. Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee? Ben. Groan? why, no;
But sadly tell me, who.
Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss: she'll not be hit 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, 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. 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,
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 :.
Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both; And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride, Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, She is the hopeful lady of my earth: But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent is but a part; An she agree, within her scope of choice Lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you, among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house, look to behold this night Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light: Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel When well apparell'd April on the heel Of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house; hear all, all see, And like her most, whose merit most shall be: Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reckoning none. Come, go with me; Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those persons out, Whose names are written there, [gives a paper.] and to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS. Serv. Find them out, whose names are written here? It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the taylor 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
Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st; With all the admired beauties of Verona : Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires! And these,-who, often drown'd, could never die,Transparent hereticks, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun.
Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye: 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 maiden-head, - at twelve year old,
I bade her come.-What, lamb! what, lady-bird!God forbid ! where's this girl? — what, Juliet!
Jul. How now, who calls?
What is your will?
Madam, I am here.
La. Cap. This is the matter: - Nurse, give leave awhile,
We must talk in secret. -Nurse, come back again;
A fortnight, and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, [Reads. Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen, 3 K 4
2. mitt vermehrt; rein) 3 thres (leviden
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, 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! - took the child: up
'A was a merry man ;
I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule? quoth
And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And see how one another lends content;
The fish lives in the sea; and 'tis much pride,
Serv. Madam, the guests are 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.
La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with Five or
Nurse. Yes, madam; yet I cannot choose but
To think it should leave crying, and say-Ay:
A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone;
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly.
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd:
La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme I came to talk of: - Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married?
Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. Nurse. An honour! were not I thine only nurse, I'd say, thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
Are made already mothers: by my count,
This night you shall behold him at our feast :
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:
Rom. Give me a torch, - I am not for this am
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. Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's 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