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ESCALUS, Prince of Verona.

Paris, a young Nobleman in love with Juliet, and kinsman to the Prince.

Montague, } Two Lords of antient families, Enemies to


Romeo, Son to Montague.

Mercutio, Kinfman to the Prince, and Friend to Romeo. Benvolio, Kinfman and Friend to Romeo.

Tybalt, Kinfman to Capulet.

Friar Lawrence.

Friar John.

Balthafar, Servant to Romeo.
Page to Paris.

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Lady Montague, Wife to Montague.
Lady Capulet, Wife to Capulet.
Juliet, Daughter to Capulet, in love with Romeo.
Nurfe to Juliet.


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Citizens of Verona, feveral men and women relations to Capulet, Maskers, Guards, Watch, and other Attendants.

The SCENE, in the beginning of the fifth Act, is in Mantua; during all the rest of the Play, in and near Verona.




The Street, in VERONA.

Enter Sampfon and Gregory, (with fwords and bucklers,) two fervants of the Capulets.


we'll not

REGORY, on my word,
carry coals.

Greg. No, for then we fhould be colliers. Sam. I mean, an' we be in Choler, we'll draw.

Greg. Ay, while you live, draw your Neck out of the Collar.

Sam. I ftrike quickly, being mov'd.

Greg. But thou art not quickly mov'd to strike. Sam. A dog of the Houfe of Montague moves me. Greg. To move, is to ftir; and to be valiant, is to ftand therefore, if thou art mov'd, thou runn'ft 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.

I we'll not carry coals. ] A phrafe then in ufe, to fignify the bearing injuries.

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Greg. That fhews thee a weak flave; for the weakest goes to the wall.

Sam. True, and therefore women, being the weakest, are ever thruft to the wall: therefore I will pufh Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall.

Greg. The quarrel is between our mafters, and us their men.

Sam. 'Tis all one, I will fhew myfelf a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids, and cut off their heads.

Greg. The heads of the maids?

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

Greg. They must take it in sense, that feel it. Sam. Me they fhall feel, while I am able to stand: and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.

Greg. 'Tis well thou art not fifh: if thou hadst, thou hadst been Poor John. Draw thy tool, here comes of the House of the Montagues.

Enter Abram and Balthafar.

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

Greg. How, turn thy back and run?

Sam. Fear me not.

Greg. No, marry: I fear thee!

Sam. Let us take the law of our fides: let them begin.

Greg. I will frown as I pafs by, and let them take it as they lift.

Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them, which is a difgrace 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 on our fide, if I say, ay?


Greg. No.

Sam. No, Sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, Sir: but I bite my thumb, Sir. Greg. Do you quarrel, Sir?

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.

• Enter Benvolio.

Greg. Say, better: here comes one of my master's kinfmen.

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 fwords, you know not what you do.

Enter Tybalt.

Tyb. What art thou drawn among thefe heartlefs 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:
Have at thee, coward.


Enter three or four citizens with clubs. Offi. Clubs, bills, and partifans! ftrike! beat them down!

Down with the Capulets, down with the Montagues!

2 Enter Benvolio.] Much of this fcene is added fince the firft. edition; but probably by Shakespear, fince we find it in that of the year 1599. Mr. Pope.

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Enter old Capulet in his gown, and lady Capulet. Cap. What noise is this? give me my long fword,


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 Hold me not, let

me go.

La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir a foot to feek a foe.

Enter Prince with Attendants.

Prin. Rebellious Subjects, enemies to peace, Prophaners of this neighbour-ftained steel Will they not hear? what ho! you men, you beafts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains iffuing from your veins; On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mif-temper'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 difturb'd the Quiet of our streets; And made Verona's antient Citizens Caft by their grave, befeeming, ornaments; To wield old partizans, in hands as old, Cankred with peace, to part your cankred hate; If ever you disturb our ftreets again, Your lives fhall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the reft depart away, You Capulet, fhall go along with me; And, Montague, come you this afternoon, To know our further pleasure in this cafe,


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