Abr. Do you bite your thurib at us, Sir? Abr. Do you bite you 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. 5 Enter Benvolio. Greg. Say, better. Here comes one of my master's kinímen. Sam. Yes, better, Sir. Abr. You lye. Sam. Draw, if you be men.-Gregory, remember thy fwashing blow 6. [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, As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: I hate 5 Enter Benvolio.] Much of this fcene is added fince the first edition; but probably by Shakeipeare, fince we find it in that of the year 1599. 6 POPE. thy fwashing blow.] Jonfon ufes this expreffion in his Staple for News. "I do confels a washing blow." STEEVENS. Enter Enter three or four citizens with clubs. Cit. 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 noise is this?-7 Give me my long fword, ho! 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 fpight of me. Enter old Montague, and lady Montague. Mon. Thou villain, Capulet let me go. Hold me not, La. Mon. Thou shalt not ftir one foot to feek a foe. Enter Prince, with attendants. Prin. Rebellious fubjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-ftained steel — Will 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 mif-temper'd weapons to the ground, And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Three civil broils, bred of an airy word, 7 Give me my long fword.] The long word was the fword ufed in war, which was fometimes wilded with both hands. JOHNSON. This long fu rd is mentioned in The Coxcomb, a comedy by Beaumont and Fletcher, where the juftice fays, "Take their confeffions, and my long "I cannot tell what danger we may nicet with." STEEVENS. word; By By thee, old Capulet and Montague, Caft by their grave, befeeming, ornaments, [Exeunt Prince, Capulet, &c. La. Mon. O where is Romeo! Saw you him to-day? Right glad am I, he was not at this fray. Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd fun Peer'd through the golden window of the East, A troubled mind drove me to walk abroad; Where, underneath the grove of fycamour, That weftward rooteth from the city fide, So early walking did I fee your fon. Towards him I made; but he was 'ware of me, And ftole into the covert of the wood. I, measuring his affections by my own,. That That most are bufied when they are most alone, Should, in the furtheft East, begin to draw Black and portentous muft this humour prove, Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the caufe? Could 8 That meft are bufied, &c.] Edition 1597. Instead of which it is in the other edition thus: by my own, Which then most fought, where moft might not be found, . Purfued my humour, &c. POPE. And gladly funn'd, &c.] The ten lines following, not in edition 1597, but in the next of 1599. POPE. Ben. Have you importun'd, &c.] Thefe two fpeeches alfo omitted in edition 1597, but inferted in 1599. POPE. 2 Or dedicate his beauty to the fame.] When we come to confider, that there is fome power elfe befides balmy air, that Could we but learn from whence his forrows grow, Enter Romeo. Ben. See, where he comes. So 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, lets away. Ben. Good-morrow, coufin. Ben. But new ftruck nine. Rom. Ay rne! fad hours feem long. Was that ny father that went hence fo faft? [Exeunt. Ben. It was. What fadnefs lengthens Romeo's hours?. Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes them fhort. Ben. In love? Rom. Out Ben. Of love? Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, fo gentle in his view, Should be fo tyrannous and rough in proof! Rom. Alas, that love, whofe view is muffled ftill, Should, without eyes, fee path-ways 3 to his will! Where brings forth, and makes the tender buds spread themselves, I do not think it improbable that the poet wrote, Or dedicate his beauty to the Sun. Or, according to the more obfolete fpeiling, Sunne; which brings it nearer to the traces of the corrupted text. THEOB. I cannot but fufpect that fome lines are loft, which connected this fimile more clofely with the foregoing fpeech; thefe lines, if fuch there were, lamented the danger that Romeo will die of his melancholy, before his virtues or abilities were known to the world. JOHNSON. 3 — to his awill!] Sir T. Hanmer, and after him Dr. Warburton, read, to his ill. The prefent reading has fome ob1curity; the meaning may be, that love finds out means to purfue |