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Sam. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant; when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids; I will cut off their heads.
Gre. The heads of the maids?
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, thon hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool; here comes two of the house of the Montagues.
Enter ABRAM and BALTHAZAR. 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.
Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir.
Gre. Do you quarrel, sir?
Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you; I serve as good a man as you.
Abr. No better.
Enter Benvolio, at a distance. Gre. Say~better; here comes one of my master's kinsmen. Sam. Yes, better, sir. ihr. You lie.
Sam. Draw, if you be men.-Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.
[They fight. Ben. Part, fools; put up your swords; you know not what you do.
(Beats down their Swords.
Enter TYBALT. Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heartless Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. [hinds :
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 bate hell, all Montagues, and thee: Have at thee, coward.
[They fight. Enter several Partizans of both Houses, who join the
Fray; then enter Citizens, with Clubs. 1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partizans! strike! beat thein
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! Lady C. 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,-Hold me not, let me go, Lady M. Thou shalt not stir one 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 pervicious 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 disturbid the quiet of our streels;
And made Verona's ancient citizens
[Exeunt Prince and Attendants; Capulet, Lady
Capulet, Tybalt, Citizens, and Servants.
Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary,
Lady M. O, where is Romeo?-saw you him to-day? Right glad I am, he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,
his windows, locks fair daylight out,
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends:
Enter Romeo, at a distance.
Mon. I would, thou wert so wappy by thy stay, To hear true shrift,-Come, inadam, let's away.
[Ereunt Montague and Lady.
Is the day so young?
Ah me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast?
Ben. It was:- What sadness lengtheas Ronneo's hours?
ACT 1. 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, ibat love, whose view is muffled still,
No, coz, I rather weep.
At thy good heart's oppression.
Soft, I will go along; And if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love.
Groan? why, no; But sadly tell me, who.
Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will :