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. 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 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 Mountagues, and thee; Have at thee, coward. [Fight. Enter three or four Citizens with clubs. Offi. Clubs, bills, and partizans! ftrike! beat them down! Down with the Capulets, down with the Mountagues! 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. A fword, I fay: old Montague is come, "And flourishes his blade in fpight of me." Enter old Mountague and Lady Mountague. Moun. Thou villain, Capulet- Hold me not, let me go. La. Moun, Thou shalt not ftir a foot to seek a foe. Enter Prince with Attendants. F Prin, Rebellious fubjects, enemies to peace, A For this time all the reft depart away, awobalw ad praNË [Exeunt Prince and Capulet, &c. SCENE II y me 7 A La. Moun. Who fet this ancient quarrel new abroach ?> Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? Ben. Here were the fervants of your adverfary, And yours, clofe fighting, ere I did approach I drew to part them: In the inftant came and bud The fiery Tybalt, with his fword preparid, besigì ne Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, air 970 He fwung about his head, and cut the winds? Jud While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, ble Came more and more, and fought on part and part, 'Till the Prince came. ཨ། ༡:ས༩༦ ༠༠ La. Moun. O, where is Romeo? faw you him to-day? Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.w r Ben, Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd fun. Tow'rds him I made, but he was 'ware of me, -A Shuts Shuts up his windows, locks fair day-light out, Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause ? Is to himself, I will not fay how true, Could we but learn from whence his forrows grow, ng bus had Enter Romeo. to ba Ben. See where he comes: fo please you step afide, To hear true fhrift. Come, Madam, let's away. [Exeunt. Ben. Good morrow, coufin, 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 sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Rom. Out MEN Ben. Of love? Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Should be fo tyrannous and rough in proof Rom. Alas, that love, whofe view is thuffled ftill, Here's much to do with hate, but more with love a Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! Mif-shapen chaos of well-feeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, fick health! This love feel I, that feel no love in this, Doft thou not laugh? Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Rom. Good heart, at what? Ben. At thy good heart's oppreffion, Rom. Griefs of mine own lye heavy in my breaft; Ben. Soft, I'll go along. An if you leave me fo, you do me wrong. But fadly tell me, who. Rom. Bid a fick man in sadness make his will O word, ill urg'd to one that is so ill In fadness, coufin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aim'd fo near, when I fuppos'd you lov'd, [Going. Rom. A right good marks-man; -and fhe's fair I love. With Cupid's arrow; fhe hath Dian's wit: And in ftrong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow the lives unharm'd, Nor Nor bide th' encounter of affailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to faint-feducing gold. That when the dies, with her dies beauty's store. Ben. Then the hath fworn, that she will ftill live chafte? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge wafte, For beauty ftarv'd with her severity, Cuts beauty off from all pofterity. She is too fair, too wife; too wifely fair, Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. Rom. 'Tis the way To call hers (exquifite) in queftion more: Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or elfe die in debt. [Exeunt. Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant. Cap. And Mountague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard For men fo old as we to keep the peace. Par. Of honourable reck'ning are you both, And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds fo long: She hath not feen the change of fourteen years; B Par |