Sam. Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry their men. coals. Gre. No, for then we should be colliers. me. Sam. I strike quickly, being moved. Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. Gre. To move, is to stir; and to be valiant, is to stand therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'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. Sam. "T is all one; I will shew 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 't is known Lam a pretty piece of flesh. Gre. 'T is 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. Enter ABRAM and BALTHASAR. Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel; I will Gre. That shews thee a weak slave; for the back thee. weakest goes to the wall. Sam. True; and therefore women, being the Gre. How? turn thy back, and run? Gre. No, marry. -I fear theee! Sum. 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? Down with the Capulets!-down with the Mon- Enter CAPULET, in his gown; and LADY Cap. What noise is this? Give me my long- Lady C. A crutch, a crutch!- Why call you for a sword? Cap. My sword, I say!-Old Montague is come, Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say "Ay?" And flourishes his blade in spite of me. 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. 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. Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE. Mon. Thou villain, Capulet! - Hold me not t; let me go. Lady M. Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe. Enter PRINCE, with Attendants. Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Gre. Say-better: here comes one of my mas- That quench the fire of your pernicious rage ter's kinsmen. Sam. Yes, better. 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. With purple fountains issuing from your veins! Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heart- Cankered with peace, to part your cankered hate: less hinds? Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. If ever you disturb our streets again, Tyb. What, draw, and talk of peace? I hate And, Montague, come you this afternoon, Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary, Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: Lady M. O, where is Romeo?-saw you him Right glad am I he was not at this fray. Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshiped sun Peered forth the golden window of the east, Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, 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 MONTAGUE. Ben. Good morrow, cousin. Rom. Is the day so young? Ben. But new struck nine. Ah me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast? hours? Rom. Not having that which, having, makes them short. Ben. In love? Rom. Out of her favor 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 muffled still, Should without eyes see pathways to his will! Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all, O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! With more of thine: this love that thou hast To call her's, exquisite, in question more. For men so old as we to keep the peace. Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: In penalty alike; and 't is not hard, I think, Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill! In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aimed so near when I supposed you loved. Rom. A right good marksman!— And she's fair I love. : Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store! Par. Of honorable reckoning are you both; Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she; Rom. She hath; and in that sparing makes Lies my consent and fair according voice. huge waste: This night I hold an old accustomed feast, And like her most whose merit most shall be: Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessened by another's anguish ; Take thou some new infection to thy eye, Rom. For your broken shin. Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is: Shut up in prison, kept without my food, 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 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. Indeed I should have asked you that Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: my Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by ; Whipped and tormented, and — Good e'en, good Your lady-love against some other maid fellow. That I will shew you shining at this feast, Serv. God gi' good-e'en. I pray, sir, can you And she shall scant shew well, that now shews |