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Scalus, Prince of Verona.
Nobleman in Love with Juliet,
lations to Capulet, Maskers, Guards, and other
The SCENE, in the beginning of the Fifth A&t,
is in Mantua; during all the rest of the Play, in and near Verona.
Enter Sampfon and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers.
Greg. No, for then we should be Colliers.
Sam. I strike quickly, being mov'd.
Greg. To move, is to stir; and to be valiant, is to stand: Therefore, if thou art mov’d, thou runn'st
away. Sam. A Dog of that House shall move me to stand: I will take the Wall of any Man or Maid of Mountague's.
Greg. That shews thee weak, Slave, for the weakest goes to the Wall.
Sam. Tiu?, and therefore Women, being the weakest Veslels, are ever thrust to the W:ll: therefore I will push Mountague's Men from the Wall, and thrust his Maids to the Wall.
Greg. The Quarrel is between our Mafters, and us their Men.
Sam. 'Tis all one, I will thew any self a Tyrant : when I have fought with the Men, I will be civil with the Maids, and cut off their Heads.
Greg. The Heads of the Maids?
Sam. Ay, the Heads of the Maids, or their Maiden-heads, Take it in what sense thou wilt.
Greg. 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.
Greg. 'Tis well thou art not Fish: if thou hadít, thou hadît been Poor John. Draw thy Tool, here comes of the House of the Mountagues.
Enter Abram and Balthasar.
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 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
Greg. Do you quarrel, Sir?
Man as you.
Abt. No better?
Sam. Draw, if you be Men. Gregory, remember thy washing 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.
Ben. I do but keep the Peace; put up thy Sword,
Tyb. What draw, and talk of Peace? I hate the word
Enter old Capulet in his Gown, and Lady Capulet. Cap. What noise is this? Give me my long Sword, ho? La. Cap. Å Crutch, a Crutch: why call you
for a Sword? Cap. A Sword, I say: Old Mountague is come, And flourishes his Blade in spight of me.
Enter old Mountague and Lady Mountague.
Enter Prince with Attendants
To wield old Partisans, in Hands as old,
[Exeunt Prince and Capulet, &c. La. Moun. Who set this ancient Quarrel new abroach ? Speak, Nephew, were you by when it began ?
Ben. Here were the Servants of your Adversary,
La. Moun. O where is Romeo, saw you him to Day?
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 Sycamour, That Westward rooteth from this City 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, Which then most sought, where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my Humour, not pursuing his, And gladly shund, who gladly fld from me.
Moun. Many a Morning hath he there been seen With Tears augmenting the fresh Morning Dew, Adding to Clouds, more Clouds, with his deep fighs: But all so soon as the all-cheering Sun,