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النشر الإلكتروني

Sam. No, Sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, Sir; but I bite my thumb, Sir.

Gre. Do you quarrel, Sir ?
Abr. Quarrel, Sir? no, Sir.

Sam. If you do, Sir, I am for you; I serve as good a man as you.

Abr. No better.
Sam. Well, Sir.

Enter BENVOLIO, at a distance.
Gre. Say_better; here comes one of my master's kinsmen.
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 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 Partizans of both Houses, who join the Fray; then

enter CITIZENS, with Clubs. 1 Cit. Clubs,t bills, and partizanso strike! beat them down! Down with the Capulets ! down with the Montagues !

Enter CAPULET, in his gown; and LADY CAPULET. Cap. What noise is this ?-Give me my long sword, ho! La.Cap. A crutch, a crutch !-Why call you for a sword ?

Cap. My sword, I say !-Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

Enter MONTAGUE, and LADY MONTAGUE.
Mon. Thou villain, Capulet!-Hold me not, let me go.
La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

Enter PRINCE, with Attendants.
Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-
Will they not hear?—what ho! you men, you beasts,
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mistemper'd

I weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.-
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet and Montague,
* Slashing.

† As we should now say, police. 1 Angry.

Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets;
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partizans, in hands as old,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time, all the rest depart away :
You, Capulet, shall go along with me;
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

(Exeunt PRINCE, and Attendants; CAPULET, LADY

CAPULET, TYBALT, Citizens, and Servants.
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 breath'd defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head, and cut the winds,
Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn:
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?
Right glad I am, he was not at this fray.

Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun,
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 are most alone,-
Pursued my humour, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen,
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 furthest 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 humour prore,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

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Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause ?
Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him.
Ben. Have you importuned 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,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, his
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure, as know.

Enter Romeo, at a distance.
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. Ah me! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast ?

Ben. It was :- What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?
Rom. Not having that, which having, makes them short.
Ben. In love ?
Rom. Out
Ben. Of love ?
Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love.
Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,

ht Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muilled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will !

his
Where shall we dine ?-0 me!- What fray was hero?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love :-

2
Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O anything, 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.
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 press'd
With more of thine: this love, that thou hast shown,

VOL. IV.

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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 a lover's eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
What is it else ? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a persevering sweet.
Farewell, my coz.

[Going. Ben. Soft, I will go along;. And 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 she is you love.
Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee?

Ben. Groan? why, no;
But sadly tell me, who.

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will :-
Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill !
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

Ben. I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.
Rom. A right good marksman !--And she's fair I love.
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.
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes,
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold :
0, 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.

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

* In seriousness.
+ Heavenly bliss, the reward of earthly chastity.

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. And 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.

Par. Of honourable reckoning are you 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,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made.

Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
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
Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light:
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:
Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one,
May stand in number, though in reckoningt none.
Come, go with

me ;-Go, Sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out,
Whose names are written there [Gives a paper], 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. * Possess.

† Estimation.

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