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Sam. Let us take the law of our fides, let them begin.

Greg. 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.

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 side, if I say, ay ?

Greg. No.

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

Greg. Do you quarrel, Sir ?
Abr. Quarrel, Sir? no, Sir.

Sam. If you do, Sir, I am for you ; I serve as good à man, as you.

Abr. No better.
Sam. Well, Sir.

Enter Benvolio. Greg. Say, better. Here comes one of my master's kinsmen.

Sam. Yes, better, Sir.
Abt. You lye.

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

[They fight. Ben. Part, fools, put up your swords, you know hot what you do

Enter Tybalt. Týb. What, art thou drawn among these heartlefs

hinds? Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.

3 Enter Benvolio.] Much of Spear, since we find it in t'at of this scene is added lince the first the year 1599.

Pore. edition į but probably by Shakeв 4


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.


Enter three or four citizens with clubs. Cit. Clubs, bills, and partisans ! strike! beat them

down! Down with the Capulets, down with the Montagues !

Enter old 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 spight of me.

Enter old Montague, and Lady Montague. Mon. Thou villain, Capulet.

Hold me not,

let me go

La. Mon. Thou shalt not ftir a foot to seek a foe.

Enter Prince with attendants.

Prin. Rebellious Subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steelWill they not hear? what ho! you men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage

4 give me my lorg word.] The in war, which was sometimes loxg Viverd was the sword used wielded with both hands,

With purple fountains iffuing from your veins;
On pain of torture, from those 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 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 partizans, in hands as old,
Cankred with peace, to part your cankred 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 Prince and Capulet, &c.


La. Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach; Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began ?

Ben. 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 Sun Peer'd through the golden window of the East, A troubled mind drew me to walk abroad, Where underneath the grove of fycamour, That westward rooteth from the City side, So early walking did I see your son. Tow'rds him I made ; but he was 'ware of me, And stole into the covert of the wood. 1, measuring his affections by my own, s That most are busied when they're most alonej Pursued my humour, not pursuing him ; And gladly shun’d, who gladly Aed from me.

Mon. 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-chearing Sun Should, in the furtheft East, begin to draw The shady 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, Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause ? Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn it of him. ? Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means ?

Mon. Both by myself and many other friends ; But he, his own affections' counsellor;

That moft are bufed, &c.] E 6 And gladly unr'd, &c.] The dition 1597. Instead of which ten lines following, not in ediit is in the other editions chus. tion 1597, but in the next of - by my orun.


POPÉ. Which then most sought, where i Ben. Hare góú imporlun'd,

mot might not be found, &c.] Thefe two speeches also Being one 100 mang by my weary omitted in edition 1597, but infelf,

Pope. Pursued my humour, &c. Pope.


fcrted in 1999

Is to himself, I will not say, how true,
But to himself fo fecret and so close,
So far from founding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the Air,
8 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.

Ben. See, where he comes. So please you, step aside, I'll know his grievance, or be much deny’d.

Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true fhrift. Come, Madam, let's away.

[Exeunt. Ben. Good-morrow, cousin. Rom. Is the day so young? Ben. But new ftruck nine. Rom. Ah me, sad hours feem 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, Beri. In love? Rom. Out

8'Or dedicate his beauty to the folete spelling, Sumne ; which

Same.] When we come to brings it nearer to the traces of consider, that there is some the corrup:ed text. THEOB. power else besides balmy air, that I cannot but suspect that some brings forth, and makes the ten- lines are lost, which connected der buds spread themselves, I do this simile more closely with the not think it improbable that the foregoing speech; these lines, if

fuch there were, lamented the

danger that Romeo will die of Or dedicate his beauty to the Sun. his melancholy, before his virtges

or abilities are known to the Or, according to the more ob- world.


Poet wrote;

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