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SAMPSONGregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.
GREGORYNo, for then we should be colliers.
SAMPSONI mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.
GREGORYAy, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.
SAMPSONAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 5I strike quickly, being moved.
GREGORYBut thou art not quickly moved to strike.
SAMPSONA dog of the house of Montague moves me.
GREGORYTo move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:
therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.
SAMPSONAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 10A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will
take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.
GREGORYThat shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes
to the wall.
SAMPSONTrue; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 15are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids
to the wall.
GREGORYThe quarrel is between our masters and us their men.
SAMPSON'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 20have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the
maids, and cut off their heads.
GREGORYThe heads of the maids?
SAMPSONAy, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;
take it in what sense thou wilt.
GREGORYAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 25They must take it in sense that feel it.
SAMPSONMe 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
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 30two of the house of the Montagues.
SAMPSONMy naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.
GREGORYHow! turn thy back and run?
SAMPSONFear me not.
GREGORYNo, marry; I fear thee!
SAMPSONAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 35Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.
GREGORYI will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as
SAMPSONNay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;
which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.
ABRAHAMAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 40Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
SAMPSONI do bite my thumb, sir.
ABRAHAMDo you bite your thumb at us, sir?
SAMPSON Is the law of our side, if I say
GREGORYAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 45No.
SAMPSONNo, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I
bite my thumb, sir.
GREGORYDo you quarrel, sir?
ABRAHAMQuarrel sir! no, sir.
SAMPSONAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 50If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.
GREGORYSay 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.
SAMPSONYes, better, sir.
ABRAHAMAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 55You lie.
SAMPSONDraw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.
Put up your swords; you know not what you do.
TYBALTWhat, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 60Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.
BENVOLIOI do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.
TYBALTWhat, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 65Have at thee, coward!
First CitizenClubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!
Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!
CAPULETWhat noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!
LADY CAPULETA crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?
CAPULETAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 70My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,
And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
MONTAGUEThou villain Capulet, — Hold me not, let me go.
LADY MONTAGUEThou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.
PRINCERebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 75Profaners 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
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 80Throw 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,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 85And 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,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 90Your 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,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 95To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
MONTAGUEWho set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?
BENVOLIOHere were the servants of your adversary,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 100And 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,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 105Who 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 MONTAGUEO, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 110Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
BENVOLIOMadam, 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
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 115That 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,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 120That most are busied when they're most alone,
Pursued my humour not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
MONTAGUEMany a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 125Adding 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,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 130And 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.
BENVOLIOAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 135My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
MONTAGUEI neither know it nor can learn of him.
BENVOLIOHave you importuned him by any means?
MONTAGUEBoth by myself and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 140Is 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,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 145Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.
We would as willingly give cure as know.
BENVOLIOSee, where he comes: so please you, step aside;
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
MONTAGUEAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 150I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.
ROMEOIs the day so young?
BENVOLIOBut new struck nine.
ROMEOAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 155Ay me! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
BENVOLIOIt was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?
ROMEONot having that, which, having, makes them short.
ROMEOAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 160Out —
ROMEOOut of her favour, where I am in love.
BENVOLIOAlas, that love, so gentle in his view,
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
ROMEOAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 165Alas, 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.
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 170Why, 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,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 175sick health!
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?
BENVOLIONo, coz, I rather weep.
ROMEOAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 180Good heart, at what?
BENVOLIOAt thy good heart's oppression.
ROMEOWhy, such is love's transgression.
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 185With 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:
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 190What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.
BENVOLIOSoft! I will go along;
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
ROMEOAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 195Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Romeo, he's some other where.
BENVOLIOTell me in sadness, who is that you love.
ROMEOWhat, shall I groan and tell thee?
BENVOLIOGroan! why, no.
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 200But sadly tell me who.
ROMEOBid 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.
BENVOLIOI aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.
ROMEOAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 205A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.
BENVOLIOA right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
ROMEOWell, 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,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 210From 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,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 215That when she dies with beauty dies her store.
BENVOLIOThen she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?
ROMEOShe hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,
For beauty starved with her severity
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 220She 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.
BENVOLIOBe ruled by me, forget to think of her.
ROMEOAct 1 Sc 1 Ln 225O, teach me how I should forget to think.
BENVOLIOBy giving liberty unto thine eyes;
Examine other beauties.
ROMEO'Tis the way
To call hers exquisite, in question more:
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 230These 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,
Act 1 Sc 1 Ln 235What 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.
BENVOLIOI'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.