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The Street, in Verona.

Enter Samplon and Gregory, (with swords and bucklers) two fervants of the Capulets.




REGORY, on my word, we'll not carry

Greg. No, for then we should be colliers.
Sam. I mean, an' we be in Choler, we'll

Greg. Ay, while you live, draw your Neck out of the Collar.

Sam. I ftrike quickly, being mov'd.

Greg. But thou art not quickly mov'd to strike.

1 we'll not carry coals.] A phrafe then in ufe, to fignify the bearing injuries. WARBURTON. This is pofitively told us; but if another critic fhall as pofitively deny it, where is the proof?


I do not certainly know the meaning of the phrafe, but it feems rather to be to fmother anger, and to be ufed of a man who burns inwardly with refentment, to which he gives no vent.



Sam. A dog of the Houfe of Montague moves me. Greg. To move, is to ftir, and to be valiant, is to ftand; therefore, if thou art mov'd, thou runn’st away.

Sam. A dog of that House shall move me to ftand. I will take the wall of any man, or maid of Montague's.

Greg. That fhews thee a weak flave; for the weakest goes to the wall.

Sam. True, and therefore women, being the weakest, are ever thrust to the wall:-therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thruft his maids to the wall.

Greg. The quarrel is between our masters, and us their men.


Sam. 'Tis all one, I will fhew. myfelf a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids, and cut off their heads.

Greg. The heads of the maids?

Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or the maidenheads, take it in what fenfe thou wilt.

Greg. They must take it in fenfe, that feel it. Sam. Me they fhall feel, while I am able to ftand: and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.

Greg. 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadit, thou hadft been Poor John, Draw thy tool, here comes of the Houfe of the Montagues.

Enter Abram and Balthafar.

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

Greg. How, turn thy back and run?

Sam. Fear me not.

Greg. No, marry: I fear thee!

2 cruel with the mails,] The first folio reads civil with the. maids,


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 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.

Greg. Do you quarrel, Sir?

Abr. Quarrel, Sir? no, Sir.

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

a man, as you.

Abr. No better.

Sam. Well, Sir.

3 Enter Benvolio.

Here comes one of my master's

Greg. Say, better.

Here comes one of


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

[They fight.

Ben. Part, fools, put up your swords, you know not what you do.

Enter Tybalt.

Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?

Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.

3 Enter Benvolio.] Much of Spear, fince we find it in that of this fcene is added fince the first the year 1599.

edition; but probably by Shake

B 4



Ben. I do but keep the peace; put up thy fword, Or manage it to part these men with me.

Tyb. What drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the

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 noife is this? give me my long fword, ho!

La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch. Why call you for a fword?

Cap. My fword, I fay old Montague is come. And flourishes his blade in fpight of me.

Enter old Montague, and Lady Montague.

Mon. Thou villain, CapuletHold, 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-ftained steel-
Will they not hear? what ho! you men, you beafts,
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage

4 give me my long word.] The in war, which was fometimes long ford was the fword ufed wielded with both hands.

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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 Montague,

Have thrice difturb'd the Quiet of our streets;
And made Verona's ancient Citizens

Caft by their grave, befeeming, ornaments;
To wield old partizans, in hands as old,
Cankred with peace, to part your cankred hate';
If ever you disturb our ftreets 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, Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this cafe,
To old Free-town, our common judgment place:
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

[Exeunt Prince and Capulet, &c.

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La. Mon. Who fet this ancient quarrel new abroach; Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began? Ben. Here were the fervants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting, ere did approach; I I drew to part them: In the inftant came The fiery Tybalt, with his fword prepar'd, Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, He fwung about his head, and cut the winds, Who, nothing hurt withal, hifs'd him in fcorn. While we were interchanging thrufts 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.


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