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Abr. Quarrel, Sir? no, Sir.
Sam. If you do, Sir, I am for you; I ferve as good a
man, as you.
Abr. No better.
Sam. Well, Sir.
Greg. Say, better: here comes one of my mafter's kinfmen.
Sam. Yes, better, Sir.
Abr. You lie.
Sam. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy fwashing blow. [They fight. Ben. Part, fools, put up your fwords, you know not what you do.
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 fword, 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:
Enter three or four citizens with clubs.
Offic. Clubs, bills, and partisans ! strike! beat them down!
Down with the Capulets, down with the Montagues!
Enter old Capulet in his gown, and lady Capulet. Cap. What noife is this? give me my long fword, ho! La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch: why call you for
a fword ?
Cap. My fword, I fay: old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in fpight of me.
Enter old Montague, and Lady Montague.
Mon. Thou villain, Capulet –
La. Mon. Thou shalt not ftir a foot to feek a foc.
Hold me not, let
Enter Prince with attendants.
Prin. Rebellious Subjects, enemies to peace,
Ben. Here were the fervants of your adversary,
While we were interchanging thrufts 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? Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd Sun
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
(1) As is the Bud, bit with an envious Worm, Ere he can spread his fweet Leaves to the Air,
Ere he can spread his fweet wings to the Air,
Could we but learn from whence his forrows grow,
Ben. See, where he comes: fo please you, ftep afide, I'll know his grievance, or be much deny'd.
Mon. I would, thou wert fo happy by thy ftay To hear true fhrift. Come, Madam, let's away. [Exe. Ben. Good morrow, coufin.
Rom. Is the day fo young?
Ben. But new struck nine.
Rom. Ah me, fad hours feem long!
Was that my father that went hence fo faft?
Ben. It was: what fadness lengthens Romeo's hours ? Rom. Not having That, which, having, makes them fhort.
Ben. In love?
Ben. Of love?
Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, fo gentle in his view, Should be fo tyrannous and rough in proof!
Rom. Alas, that love, whofe view is muffled ftill, Should without eyes fee path-ways to his will! Where fhall we dine? O me!
What fray was
Or dedicate his Beauty to the Same.] To the fame ?all the Lovers of Shakespeare and Poetry will agree, that this is a very idle, dragging Parapleromatic, as the Grammarians ftyle it. But our Author generally in his Similies is accurate in the cloathing of them, and therefore, I believe, would not have Overcharg'd this fo infipidly. When we come to confider, that there is fome power elfe befides balmy Air, that brings forth, and makes the tender Buds spread themselves, I do not think it improbable that the Poet wrote;
Or dedicate his Beauty to the Sun.
Or, according to the more obfolete Spelling, Sunne; which brings it nearer to the Traces of the corrupted Text,
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Ben. No, coz, I rather weep.
Ben. Soft, I'll go along. And if you
leave me fo, you do me wrong. Rom. Tut, I have loft my felf, I am not here This is not Romeo, he's fome other where.
Ben. Tell me in fadnefs, who fhe is you love?
Ben. I aim'd fo near, when I fuppos'd you lov'd.
and fhe's fair, I
Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is fooneft hit. Rom. But, in that hit, you mifs; fhe'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow; the hath Dian's wit: