Citizens of Verona, feveral men and women
relations to Capulet, Maskers, Guards,
and other Attendants,

The SCENE, in the beginning of the fifth act, is in Mantua; during all the rest of the Play, in and near Verona.

ROMEO

ROMEO and JULIET

A C T I. SCENE

G

The Street in Verona.

Enter Samplon and Gregory, ip

SAMPSON.

REGORY, Iftrike quickly, being mov'd. Greg. But thou art not quickly mov'd to ftrike.

Sam. A dog of the houfe of Mountague

moves me.

Greg. Draw thy tool then, for here

come of that house.

Enter Abram and Balthafar.

Sam. My naked weapon is out; Quarrel, I will backthee, but- Let us take the law of our fides: let

them begin.

Greg. I will frown as I pafs by, and let them take it as they lift.

Sam. Nay as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them, which is a difgrace to them, if they bear it. 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 on our fide, if I fay ay?

Greg. No.

Sam. No, Sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, Sir: but I bite my thumb, Sir.

A 4

Greg.

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, Sir.

Sam. Well, Sir.

Enter Benvolio.

Greg. Say better: here comes one of

kinfmen.

Sam. Yes, better, Sir.

Abr. You lye.

Sam. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.

[They fight. Ben. Part, fools, put up your fwords, you know not what you do.

Enter Tibalt.

Tib. What, art thou drawn amongst thefe 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.

Tib. What drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell, all Mountagues and thee:

Have at thee, coward.

Enter three or four citizens with clubs.

[Fight.

Offi. Clubs, bills, and partifans! ftrike! beat them down.

Down with the Capulets, down with the Mountagues.

Enter old Capulet in his Gown.

Cap. What noife is this? give me my fword,
My fword, I fay: old Mountague is come,
And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

Enter old Mountague.

Moun. Thou villain, CapuletHold me not, let

me go.

Enter Prince with Attendants.

Prin. Rebellious fubjects, enemies to peace, Prophaners of your neighbour-ftained fteel

Will they not hear? what ho! you men! you beafts,

That

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,
By thee, old Capulet, and Mountague,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets:
Aud made Verona's ancient citizens

Caft by their grave befeeming ornaments;
To wield old partizans in hands as old.
If ever you affright our streets again,
Your lives fhall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time all the reft depart away,
You, Capulet, fhall go along with me;
And Mountague, come you this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this cafe.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

Moun.

[Exeunt Prince and Capulet, &c.

SCENE

II.

Manent Mountague and Benvolio.

WH

'HO fet this ancient quarrel now abroach?
Speak, nephew, were you by when it
began?

Ben. Here were the fervants of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting, ere I did approach;
I drew to part them: In the instant came
The fiery Tibalt, with his fword prepar'd,
Which as he breath'd defiance to my ears,
He fwung about his head, and cut the winds,
While we were interchanging thrufts and blows,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
'Till the Prince came.

Moun. O where is Romeo? Saw you him to day?
Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.

Ben. My lord, an hour before the worfhipp'd fun
Peer'd through the golden window of the Eaft,
A troubled mind drew me to walk abroad;

A 5

Where

Where underneath the grove of fycamoor,
That weftward rooteth from this city fide,
So early walking did I fee your fon,
Tow'rds him I made, but he was 'ware of me,
And stole into the covert of the wood.
I measuring his affections by my own,
(That most are bufied when they're most alone,)
Purfu'd my humour, not purfuing him,

And gladly fhunn'd, who gladly fled from me.
Moun. Many a morning hath he there been feen
With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew;
But all fo foon as the all-chearing fun

Should, in the farthest east, begin to draw
The fhady curtains from Aurora's bed;
Away from light steals home my heavy fon,
And private in his chamber pens himself ;
Shuts up his windows, locks fair day-light out,
And makes himself an artificial night.
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unlefs good counsel may the cause remove.

Ben. my noble uncle, do you know the cause? Moun. I neither know it, nor can learn it of him. Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means? Moun. Both by myself and many other friends; But he, his own affection's counsellor,

Is to himself, I will not fay, how true;
But to himself so fecret and fo close.
So far from founding and difcovery;
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can fpread his fweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the fun.

Ben. So please you, Sir, Mercutio and myself
Are most near to him; be't that our years,
Statures, births, fortunes, ftudies, inclinations,
Measure the rule of his, I know not; but
Friendship ftill loves to ført him with his like.
We will attempt upon his privacy,

And could we learn from whence his forrows grow, We would as willingly give cure, as knowledge. Meun. 'Twill bind us to you: good Benvolio, go. Ben. We'll know his grievance, or be hard denied.

[Exeunt feverally. SCENE