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, Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir. sir? Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sam. [aside to Gre.] Is the law of our side, if I say ay? Gre. [aside to Sam.] No. 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. [aside to Sam.] 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! [Beats down their swords. Enter BENVOLIO. Put up your swords; 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 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 of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens with clubs. Citizens. 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! 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, La. Mon. Hold me not, let me go. 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, Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, [Exeunt all except Montague, Lady Montague, and Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary, 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 sun Towards him I made; but he was ware of me, I measuring his affections by my own, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, Should in the furthest east begin to draw Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? Is to himself, - I will not say how true, 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 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 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, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! — Where shall we dine? - O me! What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. 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! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh? Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. With more of thine: this love, that thou hast shown, Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; |