Ben. Part, fools; put up your swords: you know [beats down their swords. not what you do. Enter TYBALT. Ty. What, art thou drawn among these 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. Ty. 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 Partisans of both houses, who join the fray; then enter CITIZENS, with clubs. 1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partisans ! strike! beat them 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! L. Cap. A crutch, a crutch!—Why call you for a sword? Cap. My sword, I say!-Old Montague is come, 1 A bill is a battle-axe, and a partisan a kind of pike. And florishes his blade in spite of me. Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE. Mon. Thou villain, Capulet,-hold me not; let me go. L. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. Enter PRINCE, with Attendants. Prince. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbor-stained steel,— Will they not hear?-what, ho! you men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate. Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. 1 Angry. For this time, all the rest depart away. Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary, L. Mon. O, where is Romeo?-saw you him today? Right glad I am he was not at this fray. Ben. 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 are most alone, Pursued my humor, not pursuing his, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs: But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the farthest east begin to draw Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? 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 same. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure, as know. Enter ROMEO, at a distance. Ben. See, where he comes. So please you, step aside : I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. Ben. Good morrow, cousin. Is the day so young? Ah me! sad hours seem long. Ben. But new struck nine. Ro. Was that my father that went hence so fast? Ben. It was.-What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Ro. Not having that, which, having, makes them short. Ben. In love? Ro. Out Ben. Of love? Ro. Out of her favor, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Ro. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine?-O me!-What fray wa 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! any thing, of nothing first create! |