Sampson.
Gregory, I strike quickly, being mov'd.

Greg.
But thou art not quickly mov'd to strike.

Sam.
A dog of the house of Montague moves me.

Greg.
Draw thy tool then, for here come of that house. Enter Abram and Balthasar.† ^note

Sam.

My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will back thee, but—let us take the law of our sides: let them begin.

Greg.

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.

Abra.

Do you bite your thumb at us, sir.

Sam.

I do bite my thumb, sir.

Abra.

Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

Sam.

Is they law on our side, if I say ay?

Greg.

No.

Sam.

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

Greg.

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, sir.

Sam.

Well, sir.

Greg.

Say better: here comes one of my master's kinsmen.

Sam.

Yes, better, sir.

Abr.

You lye.

Sam.

Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.

Ben.

Part, fools, put up your swords; you know not what to do.

Tib.
What art thou drawn amongst these heartless hinds?
Turn these, 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.

Tib.
What drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word,
As I hate hell, all Mountagues and thee:
Have at thee, coward. [They fight.

[Within.]
Down with the Capulets, down with the Montagues.
A mutiny—a mutiny— [Bell rings. Enter old Mountague.* ^note

Moun.
Thou villain, Capulet—Hold me not, let me go.

Enter Prince and Attendants.

Prin.
Capulet and Mountague,
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Prophaners of this neighbour-stained steel—
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mis-temper'd weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Three civil broils, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet and Mountague,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets:
If ever you affright 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 Mountague, come you, this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this case.
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. [Exeunt Prince, Capulet, &c. Manent Mountague and Benvolio.

Moun.
Who set this antient quarrel now 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 Tibalt, with his sword prepar'd,
Which as he breath'd defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head, and cut the winds;
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
'Till the prince came.

Moun.
O where is Romeo? Saw you him, to-day?
Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.

Ben.
My lord, an hour before the worship'd sun† ^note
Peer'd through the golden window of the east,

A troubled mind drew me to walk abroad:
Where underneath the grove of sycamore,
That westward rooteth from the city side,
So early walking did I see your son.
Tow'rds him I made, but he was 'ware of me,
And stole into the covert of a wood.
I, measuring his affections by my own,
(That most are busied when they're most alone,)
Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing him,
And gladly shun'd, who gladly fled from me.

Moun.
Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew;
But all so soon as the all-chearing sun
Should, in the farthest 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 day-light 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?

Moun.
I neither know it, nor can learn it of him.

Ben.
Have you importun'd him, by any means?

Moun.
Both by myself and many other friends;
But he, his own affection's 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 sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.

Ben.
So please you, sir, Mercutio and myself
Are most near to him; be it that our years,
Statures, births, fortunes, studies, inclinations,
Measure the rule of his, I know not; but
Friendship still loves to sort him with his like.
We will attempt upon his privacy;
And could we learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure, as knowledge.

Moun.
'Twill bind us to you: good Benvolio, go.

Ben.
We'll know his grievance, or be much denied. [Exeunt severally.

Next section