DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. Servants to Capulet. PETER, Another Servant lo Capı- ABRAM, Servant in Montagne. An Apothecary. Three Musicians. an Officer. LADY MONTAGUE, Wife to Mon- Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants. fifth Act, at Mantua. PROLOGU E. CHORDS. In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Do, with thepicteath, bucy their parent'strif. 111 The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; A public place. Bucklers. Gre. To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand; therefore, if thou art moved, thou run'st away. Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to stand. I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. Sam. 'T is 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. 'T is all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be civil with the maids; I will 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, 't is known, I am a pretty piece of flesh. Gre. 'T is 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. Enter ABRAM and BALTIASAR. 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 Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, Sir? bite Sir? Sam. No, Sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, Sir; but I bite my thumb, Sir. Gre. Do you quarrel, Sir. Enter BENVOLIO, at a Distance. Sam. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. [They fight. V. 113 |