PROLOGUE.

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, and cut off their

heads.

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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 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. Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.

Gre. How! turn thy back and run?

Sam. Fear me not.

Gre. No, marry; I fear thee!

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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.

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Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR. 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 Gre.] Is the law of our side, if I say ay?

Gre. No.

And made Verona's ancient citizens

sir, but I bite my thumb, sir.

Gre. Do you quarrel, sir?
Abr. Quarrel, sir! no, sir.

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Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as

good a man as you.

Abr. No better.

Sam. Well, sir.

master's kinsmen.

Sam. Yes, better, sir.

Abr. You lie.

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Sam Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. [They fight. Enter BENVOLIO.

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?

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,

As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
Have at thee, coward!

[They fight. Enter several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs. First Cit. Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!

To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. 110 [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,
And yours, close fighting, ere I did approach:
I drew to part them: in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,
Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head and cut the winds,
Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn; 119
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 to-day?

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Right glad I am he was not at this fray. [sun
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd
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,
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,
That most are busied when they're most alone,
Pursued my humor not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been

seen,

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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 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 humor 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 importaned 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-
But to himself so secret and so close,
So far from sounding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Fre 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, 160

We would as willingly give cure as know.

Enter ROMEO. 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.
Ben. Good morrow, cousin.
Rom.
Is the day so young?
Ben. But new struck nine.
Rom.
Ay me! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
Ben. It was. What sadness lengthens Romea's
hours?

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

Ben. In love? Rom. Out

Ben. Of love?

170

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! Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?

Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. 180
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
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!

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. 189 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, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love that thou hast

shown

200

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs:
Being purged, 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.
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.
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.

220

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 starved 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.

230

Ben. Be ruled 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. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A street.

Enter CAPULET, Paris, and Servant. Cap. But Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace.

240

Par. Of honorable reckoning you are both; And pity 'tis you lived 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, ro Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. [made. Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early 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

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Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:

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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. [To Serv., giving a paper.} Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona: find those persons out Whose names are written there, 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 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 burning,

One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning: One desperate grief cures with another's languish :

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Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.
Rom. Your plantain-leaf is excellent for that.
Ben. Fer what I pray thee?
Rom.
For your broken shin.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad-
man is;

Shut
up in prison, kept without my food.
Whipp'd and tormented and-God-den, good
fellow.

Serv. God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?

Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. 60 Serv. Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I pray, can you read any thing 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. 'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of 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: whither should they come? Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither?

Serv. To supper; to our house.

Rom. Whose house?

Serv. My master's.

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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 lovest, 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.

92

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 barnt 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 poised 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 weil that now shows
best.

100

What is your will?

Your mother. Madam, I am here.

La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave awhile,

We must talk in secret:-nurse, come back again;
I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. 10
Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
La. Cap. She's not fourteen.
Nurse.
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-
And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but
four,-

She is not fourteen. How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?

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La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. 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 30
Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!

[ACTI.

And what obscured in this fair volume lies
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him only lacks a cover:

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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!
A' was a merry man-took up the child:
'Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;
Wilt thou not, Jule? and, by my holidame,
The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'
To see, now, how a jest shall come about!
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?'
quoth he;

And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'
La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold
thy peace.

Nurse. Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,

To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:

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Yea, quoth my husband, 'fall'st upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said ' Ay.' Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!

Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:
An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.

61

La. Cap. Marry, that 'marry' is the very

theme

90

For fair without the fair within to hide :
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.
Nurse. No less! nay, bigger; women grow
by men.

La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?

Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper 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. [Exit Servant.] Juliet, the county stays.

Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A street.

Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or 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: We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: But let them measure us by what they will; We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. 15 Rom. Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling:

Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you

dance.

Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes

With nimble souls: 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, 20
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 boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love;

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
Give me a case to put my visage in;
A visor for a visor! what care I

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