Complete Plays, The Read online

  Sampson

  A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague’s.

  Gregory

  That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall.

  Sampson

  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.

  Gregory

  The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.

  Sampson

  ’Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids, and cut off their heads.

  Gregory

  The heads of the maids?

  Sampson

  Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt.

  Gregory

  They must take it in sense that feel it.

  Sampson

  Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and

  ’tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.

  Gregory

  ’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.

  Sampson

  My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.

  Gregory

  How! turn thy back and run?

  Sampson

  Fear me not.

  Gregory

  No, marry; I fear thee!

  Sampson

  Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.

  Gregory

  I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list.

  Sampson

  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

  Abraham

  Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

  Sampson

  I do bite my thumb, sir.

  Abraham

  Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

  Sampson

  [Aside to Gregory] Is the law of our side, if I say ay?

  Gregory

  No.

  Sampson

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

  Gregory

  Do you quarrel, sir?

  Abraham

  Quarrel sir! no, sir.

  Sampson

  If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.

  Abraham

  No better.

  Sampson

  Well, sir.

  Gregory

  Say ‘better:’ here comes one of my master’s kinsmen.

  Sampson

  Yes, better, sir.

  Abraham

  You lie.

  Sampson

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

  They fight

  Enter Benvolio

  Benvolio

  Part, fools!

  Put up your swords; you know not what you do.

  Beats down their swords

  Enter Tybalt

  Tybalt

  What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?

  Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.

  Benvolio

  I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,

  Or manage it to part these men with me.

  Tybalt

  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

  First Citizen

  Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!

  Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!

  Enter Capulet in his gown, and Lady Capulet

  Capulet

  What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!

  Lady Capulet

  A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?

  Capulet

  My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,

  And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

  Enter Montague and Lady Montague

  Montague

  Thou villain Capulet,— Hold me not, let me go.

  Lady Montague

  Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.

  Enter Prince, with Attendants

  Prince

  Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,

  Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,—

  Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,

  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 brawls, 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.

  For this time, all the rest depart away:

  You Capulet; shall go along with me:

  And, Montague, come you this afternoon,

  To know our further pleasure in this case,

  To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.

  Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

  Exeunt all but Montague, Lady Montague, and Benvolio

  Montague

  Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?

  Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

  Benvolio

  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 prepared,

  Which, as he breathed 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.

  Lady Montague

  O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?

  Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

  Benvolio

  Madam, an hour before the worshipp’d sun

  Peer’d forth the golden window of the east,

  A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;

  Where, underneath the grove of sycamore

  That westward rooteth from the city’s side,

  So early walking did I see your son:

  Towards 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 busied when they’re most alone,

  Pursued my humour not pursuing his,

  And gladly shunn’d who gladly fled from me.

  Montague

  Many a morning hath he there been seen,

  With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.

  Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;

  But all so soon as the all-cheering sun

  Should in the furthest east begin to draw

  The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed,

  Away from the light steals home my heavy son,

  And private in his chamber pens himself,

  Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out

  And makes himself an artificial night:

  Black and portentous must this humour prove,

 
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

  Benvolio

  My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

  Montague

  I neither know it nor can learn of him.

  Benvolio

  Have you importuned him by any means?

  Montague

  Both by myself and many other 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 grow.

  We would as willingly give cure as know.

  Enter Romeo

  Benvolio

  See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;

  I’ll know his grievance, or be much denied.

  Montague

  I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,

  To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let’s away.

  Exeunt Montague and Lady Montague

  Benvolio

  Good-morrow, cousin.

  Romeo

  Is the day so young?

  Benvolio

  But new struck nine.

  Romeo

  Ay me! sad hours seem long.

  Was that my father that went hence so fast?

  Benvolio

  It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?

  Romeo

  Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

  Benvolio

  In love?

  Romeo

  Out —

  Benvolio

  Of love?

  Romeo

  Out of her favour, where I am in love.

  Benvolio

  Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,

  Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

  Romeo

  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.

  Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!

  O any thing, of nothing first create!

  O heavy lightness! serious vanity!

  Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!

  Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!

  Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!

  This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

  Dost thou not laugh?

  Benvolio

  No, coz, I rather weep.

  Romeo

  Good heart, at what?

  Benvolio

  At thy good heart’s oppression.

  Romeo

  Why, such is love’s transgression.

  Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,

  Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest

  With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown

  Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.

  Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;

  Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;

  Being vex’d a sea nourish’d with lovers’ tears:

  What is it else? a madness most discreet,

  A choking gall and a preserving sweet.

  Farewell, my coz.

  Benvolio

  Soft! I will go along;

  An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

  Romeo

  Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;

  This is not Romeo, he’s some other where.

  Benvolio

  Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.

  Romeo

  What, shall I groan and tell thee?

  Benvolio

  Groan! why, no.

  But sadly tell me who.

  Romeo

  Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:

  Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!

  In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

  Benvolio

  I aim’d so near, when I supposed you loved.

  Romeo

  A right good mark-man! And she’s fair I love.

  Benvolio

  A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

  Romeo

  Well, in that hit you miss: she’ll not be hit

  With Cupid’s arrow; she hath Dian’s wit;

  And, in strong proof of chastity well arm’d,

  From love’s weak childish bow she lives unharm’d.

  She will not stay the siege of loving terms,

  Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,

  Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:

  O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,

  That when she dies with beauty dies her store.

  Benvolio

  Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

  Romeo

  She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,

  For beauty starved 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.

  Benvolio

  Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.

  Romeo

  O, teach me how I should forget to think.

  Benvolio

  By giving liberty unto thine eyes;

  Examine other beauties.

  Romeo

  ’Tis the way

  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.

  Benvolio

  I’ll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

  Exeunt

  SCENE II. A STREET.

  Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant

  Capulet

  But Montague is bound as well as I,

  In penalty alike; and ’tis not hard, I think,

  For men so old as we to keep the peace.

  Paris

  Of honourable reckoning are you both;

  And pity ’tis you lived at odds so long.

  But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

  Capulet

  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.

  Paris

  Younger than she are happy mothers made.

  Capulet

  And too soon marr’d are those so early made.

  The earth hath swallow’d all my hopes but she,

  She is the hopeful lady of my earth:

  But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,

  My will to her consent is but a part;

  An she agree, within her scope of choice

  Lies my consent and fair according voice.

  This night I hold an old accustom’d feast,

  Whereto I have invited many a guest,

  Such as I love; and you, among the store,

  One more, most welcome, makes my number more.

  At my poor house look to behold this night

  Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:

&nbs
p; Such comfort as do lusty young men feel

  When well-apparell’d April on the heel

  Of limping winter treads, even such delight

  Among fresh female buds shall you this night

  Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,

  And like her most whose merit most shall be:

  Which on more view, of many mine being one

  May stand in number, though in reckoning none,

  Come, go with me.

  To Servant, giving a paper

  Go, sirrah, trudge about

  Through fair Verona; find those persons out

  Whose names are written there, and to them say,

  My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

  Exeunt Capulet and Paris

  Servant

  Find them out whose names are written here! It is written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned.— In good time.

  Enter Benvolio and Romeo

  Benvolio

  Tut, man, one fire burns out another’s burning,

  One pain is lessen’d by another’s anguish;

  Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;

  One desperate grief cures with another’s languish:

  Take thou some new infection to thy eye,

  And the rank poison of the old will die.

  Romeo

  Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.

  Benvolio

  For what, I pray thee?

  Romeo

  For your broken shin.

  Benvolio

  Why, Romeo, art thou mad?

  Romeo

  Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;

  Shut up in prison, kept without my food,

  Whipp’d and tormented and — God-den, good fellow.

  Servant

  God gi’ god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?

  Romeo

  Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.

  Servant

  Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I pray, can you read any thing you see?

  Romeo

  Ay, if I know the letters and the language.

  Servant

  Ye say honestly: rest you merry!

  Romeo

  Stay, fellow; I can read.

  Reads

  ‘Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.’ A fair assembly: whither should they come?

  Servant

  Up.

  Romeo

  Whither?

  Servant

  To supper; to our house.

  Romeo

  Whose house?

  Servant

  My master’s.

  Romeo