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. Enter Prince, with Attendants. Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: [Exeunt Prince and Attendants; Capulet, Lady Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary, 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; Towards him I made; but he was ware of me, I, measuring his affections by my own,- Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Should in the furthest east begin to draw Black and portentous must this humour prove, Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? 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, Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. (1) Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure as know. 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. Was that my father that went hence so fast? Ben. It was.-What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? 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, Here's much to do with hate, but more with love :- O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming (3) forms! 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. 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. Ben. Soft! I will go along: An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. 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 mark-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.(4) That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.(5) 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 Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. To call hers, exquisite, in question more: 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 debt. [Exeunt. |