a

to stand; therefore, if thou art mov'd, 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. 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.

a The first quarto of 1597 which we mark as (4), "Stand to it."

Enter ABRAM and BALTHASAR.

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.3

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir.

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sam. Is the law of our side, if I say-ay?
Gre. No.

Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you,

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,

с

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 broils, 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.

The quarto of 1609, which we mark as (C), drawn.
b (C), one foot.
e (C), brawls.

For this time, all the rest depart away:
You, Capulet, shall go along with me;
And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our farther pleasure in this case,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
[Exeunt PRINCE and Attendants; Capulet,
Lady CAPULET, TYBALT, Citizens, and
Servants.

Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new
abroach ?—

Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began?
Bene. 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 prepar'd;
Which, as he breath'd 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.

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

a

And makes himself an artificial night:
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him.
Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means?
Mon. Both by myself, and many others, friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
Is to himself-I will not say, how true-
But to himself so secret and so close,
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

The first ten beautiful lines of Montague's speech are not in the original quarto; neither is Benvolio's question, "Have you importun'd him?" nor the answer. We find them in (B), the quarto of 1599.

b The folio and (C) read same. Theobald gave us sun; and we could scarcely wish to restore the old reading, even if the probability of a typographical error, same for sunne, were not so obvious.

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with loving tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.

Ben.

[Going.

Soft, I will go along;
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he 's some other where.

Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.
Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee?
Ben.
Groan? why, no;

But sadly tell me, who.

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:-e

Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!—
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

Ben. Iaim'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

:

That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store a

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 :
She hath forsworn to love; and, in that vow,
Do I live dead, that live to tell it now.

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her.
Rom. O teach me how I should forget to think.
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
Examine other beauties.
'Tis the way

Rom. To call hers, exquisite, in question more: These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows, Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair ; He that is strucken blind, cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve, but as a note Where I may read, who pass'd that passing fair? Farewell thou canst not teach me to forget. Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. [Exeunt.

:

SCENE II.-A Street.

Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant. Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 't is not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace.

Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both; And pity 't is, you liv'd at odds so long, But now, my lord, what say you to my suit.

Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride, Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers

made.

Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made.

Earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
She is the hopeful lady of my earth: "

a The scene ends here in (A): and the three first lines in the next scene are also wanting. (B) has them. b So (D). The folio omits And.

c Lady of my earth. Fille de terre being the French phrase for an heiress, Steevens thinks that Capulet speaks of Juliet in this sense; but Shakspere uses earth for the mortal part, as in the 146th Sonnet:

"Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth," and in this play,