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K. Hen. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. spoons; you shall have [Norfolk, I have some of them in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles, that is to come. Enter the Lord Chamberlain.

Two noble partners with you; the old duchess of
And lady marquis Dorset: Will these please you?
Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you,
Embrace, and love this man.
Gar.

With a true heart,

And brother-love, I do it.
Cran.
And let heaven
Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.
K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show thy
The common voice, I see, is verified [true heart.
Of thee, which says thus, 'Do my lord of Canterbury
A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.'--
Come, lords, we trifle time away; I long
To have this young one made a christian.
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.
SCENE III.-The Palace Yard.
Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter

Man.

Cham. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here! They grow still too, from all parts they are coming, As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, These lazy knaves?-Ye have made a fine hand, There's a trim rabble let in: Are all these. [fellows Your faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall have Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, When they pass back from the christening.

Port.

An 't please your honour We are but men; and what so many may do, Not being torn a pieces, we have done : An army cannot rule them.

[Exe.Cham.

and his Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court for Parish-garden? ye rude slaves, leave your gaping. Llarder. [Within.] Good master porter, I belong to the Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue: Is this a place to roar in ?-Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; these are but switches to them.-I'll scratch your heads: You must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?

Man. Pray, sir, be patient; 't is as much impossible
(Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons)
To scatter them, as 't is to make them sleep
On May-day morning; which will never be:
We may as well push against Paul's, as stir them.
Port. How got they in, and be hang'd?
Man. Alas, I know not; How gets the tide in?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare, sir.
Port.

You did nothing, sir.

Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Colbrand,
To mow them down before me: but, if I spared any
That had a head to hit, either young or old,
He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker,

Let me never hope to see a chine again; and that
I would not for a cow, God save her.
[Within.] Do you hear, master porter?

As I live,

If the king blame me for 't, I'll lay ye all
By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads
Clap round fines, for neglect: You are lazy knaves;
Ye should do service.
And here ye lie baiting of bumbards, when
Hark, the trumpets sound;
They are come already from the christening:
Go, break among the press, and find a way out
To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find
A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months.
Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll
Port. Make way there for the princess.
make your head ache.

Port. You i' the camblet, get up o' the rail; I'll [Exeunt. pick you o'er the pales else.

SCENE IV.-The Palace. Enter trumpets, sounding; then Two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk, with his marshal's staff, Duke of Suffolk, Two Noblemen, bearing great standing bowls for the christening gifts; then Four Noblemen, bearing a canopy, under which the Duchess of Norfolk, godmother, bearing the child richly habited in a mantle, &c. Train borne by a Lady: then follows the Marchioness of Dorset, the other godmother, and Ladies. The troop pass once about the stage, and Garter speaks.

Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth! Flourish. Enter King and Train.

the good queen,

My noble partners, and myself, thus pray ;-
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye!
K. Hen.

Port. I shall be with you presently, good master Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and puppy. Keep the door close, sirrah. Man. What would you have me do? Port. What should you do, but knock them down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have we some strange Indian with the great tool come to court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door! On my christian conscience, this one christening will beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together.

Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for, o' my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in 's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance: That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that railed upon me till her pink'd porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out, clubs when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff to me; I defied them still; when suddenly a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let them win the work: The devil was amongst them, I think, surely.

Thank you, good lord archbishop, What is her name? Cran. Elizabeth. K. Hen.

Stand up, lord.

[The King kisses the child. With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! Into whose hands I give thy life. Cran. Amen. K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been too proI thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, [digal: When she has so much English. Cran. Let me speak, sir, For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter Let none think flattery, for they 'll find them truth. This royal infant, (heaven still move about her!) Though in her cradle, yet now promises Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, Which time shall bring to ripeness: She shall be (But few now living can behold that goodness) A pattern to all princes living with her, And all that shall succeed: Saba was never More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue, Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces, That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, With all the virtues that attend the good, Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her, Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: She shall be lov'd, and fear'd: Her own shall bless Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, [her: And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows

with her:

Port. These are the youths that thunder at a play-
house, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience,
but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs of In her days, every man shall eat in safety

Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours:
God shall be truly known; and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her: But as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes new create another heir,

As great in admiration as herself;

So shall she leave her blessedness to one,

To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
K. Hen. O lord archbishop,

Thou hast made me now a inan; never, before
This happy child, did I get anything:
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.
I thank ye all,--to you, my good lord mayor,
And you, good brethren, I am much beholding;
I have receiv'd much honour by your presence,
Lead the way,

(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of And ye shall find me thankful.

darkness,)

Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth,
terror,

That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him;
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour, and the greatness of his name,
Shall be, and make new nations: He shall flourish,
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him:-Our children's
children
Shall see this, and bless heaven.
K. Hen.
Thou speakest wonders.
Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England,
An aged princess; many days shall see her,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
Would I had known no more! but she must die,
She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin,
A most unspotted lily, shall she pass

lords;

Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye,
She will be sick else. This day, no man think
He has business at his house; for all shall stay:
This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt.

EPILOGUE.

'T is ten to one, this play can never please
All that are here: Some come to take their ease,
And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 't is clear,
They'll say 't is nought: others, to hear the city
Abus'd extremely, and to cry, that 's witty!'
Which we have not done neither: that, I fear,
All the expected good we are like to hear,
For this play at this time, is only in
The merciful construction of good women;
For such a one we show'd them: If they smile,
And say, 't will do, I know, within a while
All the best inen are ours; for 't is ill hap,
If they hold, when their ladies bid them clap.

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PROLOGUE.

Page to Paris.

Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life:
Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows

Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife."
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could

remove,

Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-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.
Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we 'll draw.
Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of
the collar. Sam. I strike quickly, being moved,

An Officer.

Lady MONTAGUE, wife to Mon-
tague.

JULIET, daughter to Capulet.
Lady CAPULET, wife to Capulet.
Nurse to Juliet.

Citizens of Verona; several Men
and Women, relations to both
houses; Maskers, Guards,
Watchmen, and Attendants.

Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. 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 mov'd, 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.

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. 'T is all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be civil with the maids, and cut off their heads.

Gre. The heads of the maids?

Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maiden. heads; take it in what sense thou wilt.

Gre. They must take it sense, that feel it. Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand: and 't is known I am 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 of the house of the Montagues.

Enter Abram and Balthazar.

Gre. No, marry: I fear thee! [begin. Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let them 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.

Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir.

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

I drew to part them; in the instant came Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd; back thee. Gre. How? turn thy back, and run? Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, Sam. Fear me not. 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 ?-saw you him toRight glad am I, he was not at this fray. [day! 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, That westward rooteth from this 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,Pursued my humour, not pursuing his, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fied from me. Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,

Sam. Is the law of our side, if I say-ay?

Gre. No.

Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; So early walking did I see your son:

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.

Gre. Say-better; here comes one of my master's Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs: Sam. Yes, better.

kinsmen.

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 Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. [hinds? Ben. I do but keep the peace; put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me. Tyb. What, draw and talk of peace? I hate the As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: [word, [They fight. Enter several partisans of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs.

Have at thee, coward.

down!

1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them 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.

But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
Should in the farthest east begin to draw
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,
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?
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 others, friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
But to himself so secret and so close,
Is to himself-I will not say, how true-
So far from sounding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
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,

Mon. Thou villain Capulet !-Hold me not, let me To hear true shrift.-Come, madam, let 's away.

go.

La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir a 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 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 ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Three civil broils, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
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,
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:
You, Capulet, shall go along with me;
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our farther pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
[Exeunt Prince and Attendants; Capulet, Lady
Capulet, Tybalt, Citizens, and Servants.
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:

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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 muffled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
Where shall we dine?-O me!-What fray was
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 anything, of nothing first created!

[here?

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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 made with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with loving tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.
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;
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.

But sadly tell me, who.

[Going.

Groan? why, no;

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:Ah, word ill urged 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 Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. [love. 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?

[waste;

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

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;
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
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. [Exe.
SCENE II-A Street.

Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant.
Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike; and 't is not hard, I think,
For men so old as we to keep the peace.
Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both;
And pity 't is, 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 summiers 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.
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: Which on more 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 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 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 burnOne pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; [ing, Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;

One desperate grief cures with another's lanTake thou some new infection to the eye, [guish: And the rank poison of the old will die. Rom. Your plantain-leaf is excellent for that. Ben. For what, I pray thee?

Rom.

fellow.

For your broken shin.

[is:

Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good [read? Serv. God gi' good e'en.-I pray, sir, can you Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: But I pray, can you read anything you see? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language. Serv. Ye say honestly; Rest you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow: I can read. [Reads. Signor Martino, and his wife and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of Vitruvio; Signor Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daugh ters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signor 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 to supper? Serv. To our house. Rom. Whose house? Serv. My master's. Rom. Indeed, I should have ask'd 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.

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 heretics, 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 that 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. fold,Nurse. Now by my maiden-head,-at twelve year

Enter Abram and Balthazar.

Sam. Fear me not.

Gre. No, marry: I fear thee! [begin. Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let them Gre. I will frown, as I pass by; and let them take it as they list.

I drew to part them; in the instant came Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd; back thee. Gre. How? turn thy back, and run? 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?-saw you him toRight glad am I, he was not at this fray. [day! 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, That westward rooteth from this city's side,

Sam. Ñay, 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 of our side, if I say-ay?

Gre. No.

Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; So early walking did I see your son:

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

Abr. No better.

Sam. Well, sir.

[a man as you.

Enter Benvolio, at a distance.

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,-
Pursued my humour, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,

Gre. Say-better; here comes one of my master's Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs:

kinsmen.
Abr. You lie.

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. Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heartless Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. [hinds? Ben. I do but keep the peace; put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me. Tyb. What, draw and talk of peace? I hate the As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: [word, Have at thee, coward. [They fight. Enter several partisans of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs.

1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partisans! 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 a foot to seek a foe.
Enter Prince, with Attendants.

Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-

But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
Should in the farthest east begin to draw
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,
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?
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 others, friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
But to himself so secret and so close,
Is to himself-I will not say, how true-
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
So far from sounding and discovery,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
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.
To hear true shrift.-Come, madam, let 's away.
Mon. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
[Exeunt Montague and Lady.

Ben. Good morrow, cousin.
Rom.

Ben. But new struck nine.
Rom.

Is the day so young?

Ah me! sad hours seem long.

Will they not hear?-what ho! you men, you beasts,--Was that my father that went hence so fast?

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 ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Three civil broils, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
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,

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:
You, Capulet, shall go along with me;
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our farther pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
[Exeunt Prince and Attendants; Capulet, Lady
Capulet, Tybalt, Citizens, and Servants.
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:

Ben. It was:-What sadness lengthens Romeo's

hours?

Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes them

Ben. In love?
Ben. Of love?

short.
Rom. Out-
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 muffled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
Where shall we dine?-O me!-What fray was
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 anything, of nothing first created!

[here!

O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is !-[health!
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;

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