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The city of Verona, Italy. The stage is set to look like a street market.
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Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, armed with swords and bucklers |
| Sampson |
Gregory, on my word, we'll not carry coals. |
| Gregory |
No, for then we should be colliers. |
| Sampson |
I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. |
| Gregory |
Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of the collar. |
| Sampson |
I strike quickly, being moved. |
| Gregory |
But thou art not quickly moved to strike. |
| Sampson |
A dog of the house of Montague moves me. |
| Gregory |
To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand, |
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therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. |
| Sampson |
A dog of that house shall move me to stand. I will |
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take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. |
| Gregory |
That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes |
| Sampson |
True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, |
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are ever thrust to the wall; therefore I will push |
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Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids |
| Gregory |
The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. |
| Sampson |
'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, |
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I will be cruel with the maids, and cut off their heads. |
| Gregory |
The heads of the maids? |
| Sampson |
Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; |
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take it in what sense thou wilt. |
| Gregory |
They must take it in sense that feel it. |
| Sampson |
Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and |
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'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. |
| Gregory |
'Tis well thou art not fish. If thou hadst, thou hadst been poor-john. |
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Draw thy tool! here comes two of the house of the Montagues. |
| Sampson |
My naked weapon is out. Quarrel, I will back thee. |
| Gregory |
How! Turn thy back and run? |
| Gregory |
No, marry, I fear thee! |
| Sampson |
Let us take the law of our sides. Let them begin. |
| Gregory |
I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list. |
| Sampson |
Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; |
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which is a disgrace to them if they bear it. |
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Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR |
| Abraham |
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? |
| Sampson |
I do bite my thumb, sir. |
| Abraham |
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? |
| Sampson |
[Aside to GREGORY] Is the law of our side, if I say ay? |
| Sampson |
No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I |
| Gregory |
Do you quarrel, sir? |
| Abraham |
Quarrel sir! no, sir. |
| Sampson |
If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you. |
| Gregory |
Say 'better.' Here comes one of my master's kinsmen. |
| Sampson |
Yes, better, sir. |
| Sampson |
Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. |
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Put up your swords; you know not what you do. |
| Tybalt |
What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? |
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Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. |
| Benvolio |
I do but keep the peace. Put up thy sword, |
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Or manage it to part these men with me. |
| Tybalt |
What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word, |
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As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee. |
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Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter |
| First Citizen |
Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down! |
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Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues! |
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Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET |
| Capulet |
What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! |
| Lady Capulet |
A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword? |
| Capulet |
My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, |
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And flourishes his blade in spite of me. |
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Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE |
| Montague |
Thou villain Capulet! Hold me not, let me go. |
| Lady Montague |
Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. |
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Enter PRINCE, with Attendants |
| Prince |
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, |
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Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-- |
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Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts, |
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That quench the fire of your pernicious rage |
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With purple fountains issuing from your veins, |
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On pain of torture, from those bloody hands |
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Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground, |
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And hear the sentence of your moved prince. |
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Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, |
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By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, |
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Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, |
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And made Verona's ancient citizens |
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Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, |
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To wield old partisans, in hands as old, |
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Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: |
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If ever you disturb our streets again, |
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Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. |
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For this time, all the rest depart away: |
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You Capulet; shall go along with me: |
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And, Montague, come you this afternoon, |
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To know our further pleasure in this case, |
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To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. |
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Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. |
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Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO |
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