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Scalus, Prince of Verona.
Espais, Time Nobleman in Love with Juliet,
and Kinfman to the Prince.
Romeo, Son to Mountague.
Balthafar, Servant to Romeo.
Samplon, } Servants to Capulet.
Abram, Servant to Mountague.
Lady Mountague, Wife to Mountague.
Juliet, Daughter to Capulet, in Love with Romeo.
Citizens of Verona, feveral Men and Women Relations to Capulet, Maskers, Guards, and other Attendants.
The SCENE, in the beginning of the Fifth A&t, is in Mantua, during all the reft of the Play, in and near Verona,
ROM ME O
SCENE the Street in Verona.
Enter Sampfon and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers.
Regory, a my word we'll not carry Coals.
Sam. I ftrike quickly, being mov'd. Greg. But thou art not quickly mov'd to ftrike. Sam. A Dog of the Houfe of Mountague moves me. Greg. To move, is to ftir; and to be valiant, is to ftand: Therefore, if thou art mov'd, thou runn'ft away.
Sam. A Dog of that House fhall move me to ftand: I will take the Wall of any Man or Maid of Mountague's. Greg. That fhews thee weak, Slave, for the weakest goes
to the Wall.
Sam. True, and therefore Women, being the weakest Veflels, are ever thruft to the Wall: therefore I will push Mountague's Men from the Wall, and thruft his Maids to the
Greg. The Quarrel is between our Mafters, and us their
Sam. 'Tis all one, I will fhew iny felf 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 fenfe thou wilt.
Greg. They must take it in sense that feel it.
Sam. Me they fhall feel while I am able to ftand: And 'tis known I am a pretty piece of Flesh.
Greg. 'Tis well thou art not Fish: if thou hadft, thou hadft been Poor John. Draw thy Tool, here comes of the House of the Mountagues.
Enter Abram and Balthafar.
Sam. My naked Weapon is out; quarrel, I will back thee.
Sam. Fear me not.
Greg. No, marry: I fear thee.
Sam. Let us take the Law of our fides: let them begin. 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,
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?
Abr. Quarrel, Sir? no, Sir.
Sam. If you do, Sir, I am for you; I ferve as good a Man as you.
Abr. No better?
Sam. Well, Sir.
Greg. Say better: here comes one of my Master's Kinsmen.
Sam. Draw, if you be Men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow. [They fight. Ben. Part, Fools, put up your Swords, you know not you do.
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 thefe Men with me.
Tyb. What draw, and talk of Peace? I hate the word
Enter three or four Citizens with Clubs. Offic, Clubs, Bills, and Partifans! ftrike! beat them down, Down with the Capulets, down with the Mountagues. Enter old Capulet in his Gown, and Lady Capulet. Cap. What noife is this? Give me my long Sword, ho? La. Cap. A Crutch, a Crutch: why call you for a Sword? Cap. A Sword, I fay: Old Mountague is come, And flourishes his Blade in fpight of me.
Enter old Mountague and Lady Mountague. Moun. Thou Villain, Capulet. Hold me not, let me go. La. Moun. Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a Foe. Enter Prince with Attendants. Prin, Rebellious Subjects, Enemies to Peace, Prophaners of this Neighbour stained SteelWill they not hear? What ho, you Men, you Beafts, That quench the Fire of your pernicious Rage, With purple Fountains iffuing from your Veins: On pain of Torture, from thefe bloody Hands Throw your mistemper'd Weapons to the ground, And hear the Sentence of your moved Prince. Three civil Broils, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capuler, and Mountague, Have thrice difturb'd the quiet of our Streets, And made Verona's antient Citizens Caft by their grave befeeming Ornaments,
To wield old Partifans, in Hands as old,
[Exeunt Prince and Capulet, &c. La. Moun. Who fet 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, faw you him to Day?
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd Sun
I measuring his Affections by my own,
Which then most fought, where moft might not be found,
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 fo foon as the all-cheering Sun,