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fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love,
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
Scene I. Verona. A public place.
| Enter Sampson and Gregory, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and | |
| bucklers | |
| Sampson | Gregory, o’ my word, we’ll not carry coals. |
| Gregory | No, for then we should be colliers. |
| Sampson | I mean, an we be in choler, we’ll draw. |
| Gregory | Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o’ the collar. |
| Sampson | I strike quickly, being moved. |
| Gregory | But thou art not quickly moved to strike. |
| Sampson | A dog of the house of Montague moves me. |
| Gregory | To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand: therefore, if |
| thou art moved, thou runn’st away. | |
| Sampson | A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague’s. |
| Gregory | That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. |
| Sampson | 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. |
| Gregory | The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. |
| Sampson | ’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. |
| Gregory | The heads of the maids? |
| Sampson | Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt. |
| Gregory | They must take it in sense that feel it. |
| Sampson | Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and ’tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. |
| Gregory | ’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. |
| Sampson | My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee. |
| Gregory | How! turn thy back and run? |
| Sampson | Fear me not. |
| Gregory | No, marry; I fear thee! |
| Sampson | Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. |
| Gregory | I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list. |
| Sampson | 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 | |
| Abraham | Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? |
| Sampson | I do bite my thumb, sir. |
| Abraham | Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? |
| Sampson | [Aside to Gregory] Is the law of our side, if I say ay? |
| Gregory | No. |
| Sampson | No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir. |
| Gregory | Do you quarrel, sir? |
| Abraham | Quarrel sir! no, sir. |
| Sampson | If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you. |
| Abraham | No better. |
| Sampson | Well, sir. |
| Gregory | Say ‘better:’ here comes one of my master’s kinsmen. |
| Sampson | Yes, better, sir. |
| Abraham | You lie. |
| Sampson | Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. |
| They fight | |
| Enter Benvolio | |
| Benvolio | Part, fools! |
| Put up your swords; you know not what you do. | |
| Beats down their swords | |
| Enter Tybalt | |
| Tybalt | What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? |
| Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. | |
| Benvolio | I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword, |
| Or manage it to part these men with me. | |
| Tybalt | 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 of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs | |
| First Citizen | Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down! |
| Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues! | |
| Enter Capulet in | ! his gown, and Lady Capulet |
| Capulet | What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! |
| Lady Capulet | A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword? |
| Capulet | My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, |
| And flourishes his blade in spite of me. | |
| Enter Montague and Lady Montague | |
| Montague | Thou villain Capulet — Hold me not, let me go. |
| Lady Montague | Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe. |
| Enter Prince, with Attendants | |
| Prince | 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 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, | |
| Have thrice disturb’d the quiet of our streets, | |
| And made Verona’s ancient citizens | |
| Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, | |
| To wield old partisans, 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 all but Montague, Lady Montague, and Benvolio | |
| Montague | Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? |
| Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? | |
| Benvolio | 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 breathed 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. | |
| Lady Montague | O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day? |
| Right glad I am he was not at this fray. | |
| Benvolio | Madam, an hour before the worshipp’d sun |
| Peer’d forth the golden window of the east,A troubled mind drave me
|
