f tuat her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why, then she lives.
Kent.

Is this the promis'd end?
Edg. Or image of that horror?
Alb.
Fall, and cease.
Lear. This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so,
It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows
That ever I have felt.

Kent
O my good master! [Kneeling
Lear Pr'ythee, away.
Edg.
"Tis noble Kent, your friend.
Lear A plague upon you, murderers, traitors, all!
I might have saved 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 thec.
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.

Lear. This is a dull sight: Are you not Kent? Kent. The same; Your servant Kent: Where is your servant Caius? Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that; He'll strike, and quickly too:-He's dead and

rotten.

Kent. No, my good lord: I am the very man ;Lear. I'll see that straight.

Kent. That, from your first of difference and decay,

Have follow'd your sad steps.

Lear.

You are welcome hither. Kent. Nor no man else; All's cheerless, dark, and deadly.Your eldest daughters have foredoom'd themselves, And desperately are dead.

Lear.

Ay, so I think.

Alb. He knows not what he says; and vain it is That we present us to him.

Edg.

• Useless.

Very bootless.7

Enter an Officer.

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 KEST. Have more than merited.-All friends shall taste With boot, and such addition as your honors 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,-her lips-
Look there, look there!-
[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: O, 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 endured so
long:

He but usurp'd his life.
Alb. Bear them

business

from hence.-Our present

Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life;
Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows

Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife.

The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, naught could re

move,

Is now the two-hours' traffic of our stage; The which, if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

SCENE I-A Public Place.

Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, armed with Swords and Bucklers.

Sam. Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals. Gre. No, for then we should be colliers. Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of the collar.

Sam. I strike quickly, being moved.

Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. Gre. To move, is-to stir; and to be valiant, isto stand to it: therefore, if thou art moved 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 Montague's.

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

Sum. 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 meni.

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.

A phrase formerly in use, to signify the bearing injuries.

Gre. The heads of the maids?

heads; take it in what sense thou wilt. Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maiden

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.2 Draw thy tool; here comes two of the house of the Montagues.

Enter ABRAM and BALTHAZAR.

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.

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.

Sam. No, sir; I do not bite my thumb at you sir: but 1 bite my thumb, sir.

Poor John is hake, dried and salted.

Sam. Draw, if you be men.-Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. [They fight. Ben. Part, fools; 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?
the word,

I hate

As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee; Have at thee, coward. [They fight. Enter several Partizans of both Houses, who join the Fray; then enter Citizens with Clubs. Cit. Clubs,3 bills, and partizans! 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 one foot to seek a foe.

Enter Prince, with Attendants.

Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbor-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 old partizans, in hands as old,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate.
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
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.
[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 prepared; Which, as he breath'd 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 thrust and blows, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the prince came, who parted either part.

Clubs was the usual exclamation at an affray in the streets, as we D w call Watch!

La. Mon. O, where is Romeo!--saw you him today?

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 rooteth 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,Pursued my humor, 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 sight But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the furthest 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 humor 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 importuned 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 trueBut 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 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, at a distance.

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 stav.
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 Romer's

hours?

Rom. Not having that, which having, mal.s

them short.

Ben. In love?
Rom. Out-
Ben. Of love?

Rom. Out of her favor, 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 iove, whose view is muffled still. Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine?-O me!-What fray wa 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!
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?" 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 nast shown,

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears*

• Appear d.

[Going.

What is it else? a 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.
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-urged 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 marksman!-And she's fair I love.

Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest bit. 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,
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:
0, 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 ruled by me, forget to think of he.. 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 debt. [Exeunt.

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.

Par. Of honorable reckoning? are you both; And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride, Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made.

The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent and fair according voice.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Such as I love; and you, among the store,
One more, most welcome, makes my number

more.

At my poor house, look to behold this night
Farth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light:
Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel
When well-apparell'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female birds shall you this night
Account, estimation.

Inherits at my house; hear all, all see,
And like her most, whose merit most shall be:
Such, amongst view of many, mine, being one,
May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Coine, go with me:-Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out,
Whose names are written there, [Gives a Paper.
and to them say.

My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
[Exeunt CAPULET and Paris.
Serv. Find them out, whose names are written
here? It is written that the shoemaker should
meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last
the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his
nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose
names are here writ, and can never find what
names the writing person hath here writ. I must
to the learned:-In good time.

Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO.

Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning,

One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning:
One desperate grief cure with another's lan-
guish:

Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.
Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.
Ben. For what, I pray thee?
Rom.

For your broken shin.
Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman
is:

Shut up. in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good

fellow.

Serv. God gi' good-e'en.-I pray, sir, can you read?

Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: But I pray, can you read any thing you see? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the lan

guage.

Reads.

Serv. Ye say honestly: Rest you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. Signior Martino, and his wife and daughters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, ant his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena. A fair assembly; [Gires back the Note.] Whither should they come?

Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither?

Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking: My master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.9 Rest you merry.

[Exit.

Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st;
With all the admired beauties of Verona.
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires!

And these, who, often drown'd, could never die,-
Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!
One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun
Ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun.
Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by
Herself pois'd' with herself in either eye:
But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd
Your lady's love against some other maid
That I will show you, shining at this feast,
And she shall scant show well, that now shows best.
Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. [Exeunt.
To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare, is to possess.
We still say, in cant language, crack a bottle.
Weighed.
Scarcely, hardly.

SCENE III-A Room in Capulet's House.

Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse.

La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.

Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,

I bade her come.-What, lamb! what, lady-bird! God forbid!-where's this girl?-what, Juliet!

Enter JULIEt.

Your mother.

Madam, I am here,

Jul. How now, who calls?
Nurse.
Jul.

What is your will?

La. Cap. This is the matter:-Nurse, give leave awhile,

We must talk in secret.-Nurse, come back again; I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel. Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. La. Cap. She's not fourteen.

Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,And yet, to my teen3 be it spoken, I have but four,She is not fourteen: How long is it now To Lammas-tide? La. Cap.

A fortnight and odd days.

Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be fourteen. Susan and she,-God rest all Christain souls!Were of an age.-Well, Susan is with God; She was too good for me: But as I said, On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; That shall she, marry; I remember it well. 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget it,Of all the days in the year, upon that day: For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall, My lord and you were then at Mantua :Nay. I do bear a brain:--But, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool! To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug. Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge.

And since that time it is eleven years:

For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,5
She could have run and waddled all about,
For even the day before, she broke her brow:
And then my husband-God be with his soul!
'A was a merry man;-took up the child:
Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face?
Thou will fall backward, when thou hast more wit;
Wilt thou not, Jule? and by my holy dam.6
The pretty wretch left crying, and said-Ay:
To see now, how a jest shall come about!
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, Jule?
quoth he:

And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said-Ay.

La. Cap. Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.

Nurse. Yes, madam; Yet I cannot choose but

laugh,

To think it should leave crying, and say-Ay:
And yet I warrant, it had upon its brow

A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone;
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly.
Yea, quoth my husband, fall'st upon thy face?
Thon will fall backward, when thou com'st to age;
Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted, and said—Ay.

Jul. And stint thou too. I pray thee, nurse, say I. Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!

Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd:
An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.

La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very theme
I came to talk of:-Tell me, daughter Juliet,
How stands your disposition to be married?
Jul. It is an honor that I dream not of.
Nurse. An honor! were not I thine only nurse,
I'd say, thou had'st suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; younger
than you,

Here, in Verona, ladies of esteem,
Are made already mothers: by my count,
I was your mother much upon these years
That you are now a maid. Thus then, in brief:-
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man,
As all the world-Why, he's a man of wax,
La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a
flower.

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower, in faith, a very flower. La. Cap. What say you? can you love the gentleman?

This night you shall behold him at our feast:
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen,
Examine every married lineament,

And see how one another lends content:
And what obscured in this fair volume lies,
Find written in the margin of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him only lacks a cover:
The fish lives in the sea;' and 'tis much pride,
For fair without the fair within to hide:
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.
Nurse. No less? nay, bigger; women grow by

men.

La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love!

Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye, Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. Enter a Servant.

Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.

La. Cap. We follow thee.-Juliet, the county stays.

Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

SCENE IV-A Street.

[Exeunt.

Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with fire or siz Maskers, Torchbearers, and others.

Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?

Or shall we on without apology?

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity: We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;2 Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: But, let them measure us by what they will, We'll measure them a measure,3 and be gone. Rom. Give me a torch,I am not for this

ambling;

Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

Rom. Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes, With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead. So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move.

Mer. You are a lover: borrow Cupid's wings, And soar with them above a common bound. Rom. I am too sore impierced with his shaft To soar with his light feathers; and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden love; Too great oppression for a tender thing.

Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like thorn Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love;