Put up your swords; you know not what you do. [Beats down their swords. 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, Or manage it to part these men with me. Tyb. 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 of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs. First 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! La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword? Cap. My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me. Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE. MON. Thou villain Capulet,—Hold me not, let me go. La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe. Enter Prince, with Attendants. Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. You, Capulet, shall go along with me: 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 prepared, Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears, He swung about his head and cut the winds, Who 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. 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 Towards him I made, but he was ware of me I, measuring his affections by my own, 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 Away from light steals home my heavy son, Black and portentous must this humour prove, Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? 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 sun. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure as know. Enter Romeo. Ben. See, where he comes: so please you, step 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? Ay me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast? Ben. It was. hours? What sadness lengthens Romeo's Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes them short. BEN.. In love? Rom. Out— 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. O 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. Rom. Good heart, at what? At thy good heart's oppression. |