As for that heinous tiger, Tamora,
No funeral rite, nor man in mournful weeds,
No mournful bell shall ring her burial;
But throw her forth to beasts, and birds of prey.
Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity;

And, being so, shall have like want of pity.
See justice done on Aaron, that damn'd Moor,
By whom our heavy haps had their beginning;
Then, afterwards, to order well the state,
That like events may ne'er it ruinate. [Exeunt.

ESCALUS, Prince of Verona.

Peter, another Servant to Capulet.

Prince.

An Apothecary.

Three Musicians.

Chorus. Boy; Page to Paris; an Officer.
Lady Montague, Wife to Montague.
Lady Capulet, Wife to Capulet.
Juliet, Daughter to Capulet.
Nurse to Juliet.

Citizens of Verona; male and female Relations to both Houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and Allendants.

SCENE, during the greater Part of the Play, in Verona: once, in the fifth Act, at Mantua.

PROLOGUE.

Chorus.

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-cross'd 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, nought could
remove,

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.

Gregory. Sampson.

Draw, if you be men.thy swashing blow.

Part, fools! put up your swords; you know Beats down their Swords.

not what you do.

Enter several persons of both Houses, who join the Fray; then enter Citizens, with Clubs or Partisans.

Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!

Enter Capulet, in his Gown; and Lady Capulet. Capulet.

What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!

A crutch, a sword?

Lady Capulet.

crutch! Why call you for a

Capulet.

My sword, I say!-Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

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.

Enter Prince, with his Train.
Prince.

Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,Will they not hear?-what ho! you men, you beasts,

On

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 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 farther 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 Ser-

vants.

Montague.

Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? Benvolio.

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 prepar'd; 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 thrusts and blows, Came more and more, and fought on part and part,

Till the prince came, who parted either part.

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:
1, measuring his affections by my own,
Which then most sought, where most might not
be found,

Being one too many by my weary self,
Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

Montague.

Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs: But all so soon as the all-cheering 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 daylight out, And makes himself an artificial night." Black and portentous must this humour prove, Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

Benvolio.

My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

Montague.

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

Have you importun'd him by any means?

Montague.
Both by myself, and many other friends:
But he, his own affections' 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. [grow,
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows
We would as willingly give cure, as know.

Enter Romeo, at a distanco
Benvolio.

See, where he comes: so please you step aside; I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. Montague.

I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true shrift.-Come, madam, let's away. [Exeunt Montague and Lady. Benvolio.

Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Romeo

Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine?-O me!-What fray was Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. [here? 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 created!
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?

Benvolio.

No, coz; I rather weep. Romeo.

Good heart, at what?

Benvolio.

At thy good heart's oppression.
Romeo.

Why, such is love's transgression.—
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast;
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it press'd

With more of thine: this love, that thou hast shown,

Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke, made with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
What is it else? a madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Farewell, my coz.
Benvolio.

Soft, I will go along:
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

Romeo.

[Going.

Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here; This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Benvolio.

Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.
Romeo.

What! shall I groan, and tell thee?
Benvolio.

But sadly tell me, who.

Romeo.

Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair? Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget. Benvolic.

I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. [Exeunt.

SCENE 11. A Street.

Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant.
Capulet.

But Montague is bound as well as 1,
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
For men so old as we to keep the peace.

Paris.

Paris.

Younger than she are happy mothers made.

Capulet.

And too soon marr'd are those so early made. Earth hath swallowed 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.

Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven At my poor house look to behold this night light:

Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel,
When well-apparel'd April on the heel
Of limping winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house: hear all, all see,
And like her most, whose merit most shall be:

Romeo.

She hath, and in that sparing makes huge
For beauty, starv'd with her severity, [waste;
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.
Benvolio.

Be rul'd by me; forget to think of her.
Romeo.
O! teach me how I should forget to think.
Benvolio.

By giving liberty unto thine eyes:
Examine other beauties.

Romeo.

'Tis the way To call her's, 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 stricken 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

May stand in number, though in reckoning none.
Come, go with me.-Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out,
Whose names are written there, [Giving a
Paper,) and to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
[Exeunt Capulet and Paris.
Servant.

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.
Benvolio.

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 cures with another's
languish:

Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.

Romeo.

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. Rest you merry. Exit. Benvolio.

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. Romeo.

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.

Benvolio.

Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye;

Lady Capulet.

A fortnight, and odd days.
Nurse.

Even or odd, of all days in the year, [teen.
Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be four-
Susan and she,-God rest all Christian 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 of 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,
Shake, quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I
To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug!
To bid me trudge.
[trow,

And since that time it is eleven years;
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the
rood,

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,"