Imatges de pàgina
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How have you known the miseries of your father?

The time will not allow the compliment,
Which very manners urges.
Kent.

I am come

Edg. By nursing them, my lord. List a brief To bid my king and master aye good night;

tale;

And, when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst!—
The bloody proclamation to escape,

That follow'd me so near, (O our lives' sweetness!
That with the pain of death we'd hourly die,
Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift
Into a mad-man's rags; to assume a semblance
That very dogs disdain'd: and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost; became his guide,
Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair;
Never (O fault!) reveal'd myself unto him,
Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd,
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
Told him my pilgrimage: But his flaw'd heart,
(Alack, too weak the conflict to support!)
'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly.

Edm. This speech of yours hath mov'd me, And shall, perchance, do good: but speak you on; You look as you had something more to say.

Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in; For I am almost ready to dissolve, Hearing of this.

Edg.
This would have seem'd a period
To such as love not sorrow; but another,
To amplify too-much, would make much more,
And top extremity.

Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man,
Who having seen me in my worst estate,
Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding
Who 'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms
He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out

Is he not here?

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'Tis noble Kent, your friend.

Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! I might have sav'd her; now she's gone for

ever!

Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha!

What is't thou say'st?- Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low: an excellent thing in woman ; —
I kill'd the slave that was a hanging thee.
Off. 'Tis true, my lords, he did.
Lear.
Did I not, fellow?
I have seen the day, with my good biting faulchion
I would have made them skip: I am old now,
And these same crosses spoil me. — Who are you?
Mine eyes are none o'the best: I'll tell you
straight.

Kent. If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated, One of them we behold.

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Off. Edmund is dead, my lord.
Alb.
That's but a trifle here.
You lords, and noble friends, know our intent.
What comfort to this great decay may come,
Shall be applied: For us, we will resign,
During the life of this old majesty,

To him our absolute power: — You, to your rights;
[To EDGAR and KENT.
With boot, and such addition as your honours
Have more than merited. All friends shall taste
The wages of their virtue, and all foes

The cup of their deservings. — O, see, see!

Lear. And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life:

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come no

more.

Never, never, never, never, never!
Pray you, undo this button: Thank you, sir.
Do you see this? Look on her, - look,
lips,

Look there, look there! →

her

[He dies. Edg. He faints! - My lord, my lord, Kent. Break, heart; I pr'ythee, break! Edg. Look up, my lord. Kent. Vex not his ghost: Q, let him pass! he hates him,

That would upon the rack of this tough world
Stretch him out longer.

Edg.
O, he is gone, indeed.
Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long:
He but usurp'd his life.

Alb. Bear them from hence.. - Our present

business

Is general woe. Friends of my soul, you twain'
[TO KENT and Edgar.
Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain.
Kent, I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;
My master calls, and I must not say, no.

Alb. The weight of this sad time we must obey;
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most: we, that are young,
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

[Exeunt, with a dead march."

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servants to Capulet.

ABRAM, servant to Montague.

An Apothecary.
Three Musicians.
Chorus.

Boy.
Page to Paris.
PETER.

An Officer.

Lady MONTAGUE, wife to Montague.
Lady CAPULET, wife to Capulet.
JULIET, daughter to Capulet.
Nurse to Juliet.

Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, relations to both houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants.

SCENE, ― during the greater Part of the Play, in VERONA: once in the Fifik Act, at Mantua.'

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Gre. To move is-to stir; and to be valiant, is -to stand to it: therefore, if thou art mov'd, thu run'st away.

Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.

Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall.

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

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

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, thou hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool; here comes two of the house of the Montagues.

Enter ABRAM and BALTHASAR.'

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. 1

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. I do bite my thumb, sir.

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say-ay?
Gre. No.

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Prin. 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 pernicious 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 disturb'd the quiet of our streets;
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield our partizans, in hands as old,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate :
If ever you disturb our streets again,

Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

sir; but I bite my thumb, sir.

Gre. 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.

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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,
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

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[Exeunt PRINCE and Attendants; CAPULET, Lady CAPULET, TYBALT, Citizens, and Servants.

Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?—
Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began?

Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary,
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:
I drew to part them; in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd;
Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head, and cut the winds,
Who, nothing hur 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.
La. Mon. 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
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 rootetli 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,
Pursu'd my humour, 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 further east begin to draw
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
Away from light steals home my heavy son,
And private in his chamber pens himself;
Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out,
And makes himself an artificial night:
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him.
Ben. Have you impórtun'd him by any means?
Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' counsellor,

Is 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 sweat leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.

Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure, as know.

Enter ROMEO, át à distance.

Rom. Good heart, at what?
Ben.

At thy good heart's oppression.
Rom. Why, such is love's transgression, —
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast;
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
With more of thine: this love, that thou hast shown,
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
What is it else? à madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.

Ben.
Soft, I will go along;
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

[Going

· Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not, Romeo, he's some other where.
Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love.
Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee?
Ben.
Groan? why, no;

But sadly tell me, who..

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:—
Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill!-
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd.
Rom. A right good marks-man! -And she's
fair I love.

Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
Rom. Well, 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,
From 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,

Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:

aside;

I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.

Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.
[Exeunt MONTAGUE and Lady.

Ben. Good morrow, cousin.
Rom.

Ben. But new struck nine.
Rom.

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 lengthens Romeo's
hours?

Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes

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Ben. Of love?

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, 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:·
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing, of nothing first create !

Q heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!

Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!

This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?

Ben.

No, coz, I rather weep.

O, she is rich in beauty; only poor,
That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.
Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will still live
chaste?

Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge
waste;]

For beauty, starv'd with her severity,
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
She 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.

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her.
Rom. O teach me how I should forget to think.
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
Examine other beauties.

Rom.

"Tis the way
To call hers, exquisite, in question more:
These 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,
What 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
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in delt
[Err

SCENE II. A Street.

Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant. Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace.

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