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Which but their childrens' end nought could remove,
The Street in Verona.
Enter Samplon and Gregory, with fwords and bucklers, two fervants of the Capulets.
REGORY, on my word, we'll not
Greg. No; for then we fhould be
Sam. I mean, an' we be in choler, we'll draw.
Sam. I frike quickly, being mov'd,
Greg. But thou art not quickly mov'd to strike.
Sam. True; and therefore women, being the weakest, are ever thrust 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 myself 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 maiden. heads, take it in what fenfe thou wilt.
Greg. They must take it in fenfe that feel it.
A phrafe then in ufe, to fignify the bearing injuries.
Sam. Me they fhall feel while I am able to ftand; and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.
Greg. 'Tis well thou art not fith: if thou hadit, 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 pass by, and let them take it as they list.
Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at
Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, Sir?
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.
Greg. Say, better here comes one of kinfmen.
Sam. Yes, better, Sir.
Abr. You lye.
Sam. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy fwafhing blow,
Ben. Part, fools, put up your fwords, you know no what you do.
Tyb. What, art thou drawn among thefe heartless Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy death.
[hinds? Ben. I do but keep the peace: put up thy fword, Or manage it to part thefe 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.
Off Clubs, bills, and partifans! ftrike! 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,
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 spight of me.
Enter eld Montague, and Lady Montague. Man. 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 fubjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-ftained steelWill they not hear what ho! you men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains iffuing from your veins ; On pain of torture, from thofe bloody hands Throw your misternper'd weapons to the ground, And hear the fentence 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
Caft by their grave, befeeming ornaments;
To wield old partifans, in hands as old,
S CEN E II.
La. Mon. Who fet this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?
Ben. Here were the fervants of your adverfary, And your's, close fighting, ere I did approach; I drew to part them: in the inftant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd, Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, He fwung about his head, and cut the winds:: Who, nothing hurt withal, hifs'd him in fcorn. 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! faw you him to-day ?: Right glad am I he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd fun
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen
But all fo foon as the all-cheering fun
Ben My noble uncle, do you know the cause ?
Ere he can fpread his fweet wings to the air,,
Could we but learn from whence his forrows grow,
Ben. See where he comes: fo please you step afide.. I'll know his grievance, or be much deny'd.
Mon. I would thou wert fo happy by thy stay To hear true fhrift. Come, Madam, let's away.
Ben. Good morrow, cousin.
Rom. Is the day fo young?
Ben. But new ftruck 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,