Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. Sam. True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall and thrust his maids to the wall. Gre. The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. Sam. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men I will be cruel with the maids, and cut off their heads. Gre. The heads of the maids? Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt. Gre. They must take it in sense that feel it. Sam. Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. Gre. 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor-John.-Draw thy tool; here comes two of the house of the Montagues. Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee. Gre. How! turn thy back and run? Sam. Fear me not. Gre. No, marry; I fear thee! Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. Gre. 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 them; which is a disgrace to them if they bear it. Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR. 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. 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. 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. Enter BENVOLIO. 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. I hate the word [They fight. Enter several of both Houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens with clubs. 1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partisans ! 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! Lady C. 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. Enter PRINCE, with Attendants. Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Will they not hear?--What, ho! you men, you beasts, With purple fountains issuing from your veins,- Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: [Exeunt PRIN. and Attendants; CAP., LADY C., Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new a-broach?— Lady M. 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 And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, And makes himself an artificial night: Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? Is to himself,-I will not say how true,- 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, Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure as know. 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. Enter ROMEO. Ben. Good-morrow, cousin. Ben. But new struck nine. Is the day so young? Ay 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, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Here's much to do with hate, but more with love:— 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!— Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. At thy good heart's oppression. Rom. Why, such is love's transgression.- Ben. Soft! I will go along: Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; But sadly tell me who. [Going. Groan! why, no; Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will, Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill! In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd. 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 the encounter of assailing eyes, 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, starv'd 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: |