1
The most excellent Tragedie of
1.1
Romeo and Iuliet.
Enter 2. Seruing-men of the Capolets.
5GRegorie, of my word Ile carrie no coales.
2 No, for if you doo, you should be a Collier.
1 If I be in choler, Ile draw.
2 Euer while you liue, drawe your necke out of the
the collar.
10 1 I strike quickly being moou'd.
2 I, but you are not quickly moou'd to strike.
1 A Dog of the house of the Mountagues moues me.
2 To mooue is to stirre, and to bee valiant is to stand
to it: therefore (of my word) if thou be mooud thou't
14.1runne away.
1 There's not a man of them I meete, but Ile take
16.1the wall of.
2 That shewes thee a weakling, for the weakest goes
to the wall.
1 Thats true, therefore Ile thrust the men from the
wall, and thrust the maids to the walls: nay, thou shalt
21.1see I am a tall peece of flesh.
2 Tis well thou art not fish, for if thou wert thou
wouldst be but poor Iohn.
1 Ile play the tyrant, Ile first begin with the maids, &
off with their heads.
2 The heads of the maids?
1 I the heades of their Maides, or the Maidenheades,
take it in what sence thou wilt.
30 2 Nay let them take it in sence that feele it, but heere
comes two of the Mountagues.
Enter two Seruingmen of the Mountagues.
1 Nay feare not me I warrant thee.
40 2 I feare them no more than thee, but draw.
1 Nay let vs haue the law on our side, let them begin
first. Ile tell thee what Ile doo, as I goe by ile bite my
thumbe, which is disgrace enough if they suffer it.
44.1 2 Content, goe thou by and bite thy thumbe, and ile
come after and frowne.
1 Moun: Doo you bite your thumbe at vs?
50 1 I bite my thumbe.
2 Moun: I but i'st at vs?
1 I bite my thumbe, is the law on our side?
48.1 2 No.
1 I bite my thumbe.
55 1 Moun: I but i'st at vs?
Enter Beneuolio.
2 Say I, here comes my Masters kinsman.
60
They draw, to them enters Tybalt, they fight, to them the
Prince, old Mountague, and his wife, old Capulet and
82.1
his wife, and other Citizens and part them.
Prince: Rebellious subiects enemies to peace,
On paine of torture, from those bloody handes
Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground.
Three Ciuell brawles bred of an airie word,
By the old Capulet and Mountague,
Haue thrice disturbd the quiet of our streets.
If euer you disturbe our streets againe,
Your liues shall pay the ransome of your fault:
100For this time euery man depart in peace.
Come Capulet come you along with me,
and Mouutague, come you this after noone,
To know our farther pleasure in this case,
To old free Towne our common iudgement place,
105Once more on paine of death each man depart.
105.1
Exeunt
M: wife. Who set this auncient quarrel first abroach?
Speake Nephew, were you by when it began?
Benuo: Here were the seruants of your aduersaries,
And yours close fighting ere I did approch.
VVife: Ah where is Romeo, saw you him to day?
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
120 Ben: Madame, an houre before the worshipt sunne
Peept through the golden window of the East,
A troubled thought drew me from companie:
Where vnderneath the groue Sicamoure,
That Westward rooteth from the Citties side,
125So early walking might I see your sonne.
I drew towards him, but he was ware of me,
And drew into the thicket of the wood:
I noting his affections by mine owne,
That most are busied when th'are most alone,
Pursued my honor, not pursuing his.
Moun: Black and portentious must this honor proue,
Vnlesse good counsaile doo the cause remooue.
145 Ben: Why tell me Vncle do you know the cause?
145.1
Enter Romeo
Moun: I neyther know it nor can learne of him.
Ben: See where he is, but stand you both aside,
160Ile know his grieuance, or be much denied.
Mount: I would thou wert so happie by thy stay
To heare true shrift. Come Madame lets away.
Benuo: Good morrow Cosen.
Romeo: Is the day so young?
165 Ben: But new stroke nine.
Romeo: Ay me, sad hopes seeme long.
Was that my Father that went hence so fast?
Ben: It was, what sorrow lengthens Romeos houres?
Rom: Not hauing that, which hauing makes them
170 Ben: In loue.
Ro: Out.
Ben: Of loue.
Ro: Out of her fauor where I am in loue.
Ben: Alas that loue so gentle in her view,
175Should be so tyrranous and rough in proofe.
Ro: Alas that loue whose view is muffled still,
Should without lawes giue path-waies to our will:
Where shall we dine? Gods me, what fray was here?
Yet tell me not for I haue heard it all,
180Heres much to doe with hate, but more with loue.
Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate,
O anie thing, of nothing first create!
O heauie lightnes serious vanitie!
Mishapen Caos of best seeming thinges,
185Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sicke health,
Still waking sleepe, that is not what it is:
This loue feele I, which feele no loue in this.
Doest thou not laugh?
Ben: No Cose I rather weepe.
190 Rom: Good hart at what?
Ben: At thy good hearts oppression.
Ro: Why such is loues transgression,
Griefes of mine owne lie heauie at my hart,
Which thou wouldst propagate to haue them prest
195With more of thine, this griefe that thou hast showne,
Doth ad more griefe to too much of mine owne:
Loue is a smoke raisde with the fume of sighes
Being purgde, a fire sparkling in louers eyes:
Being vext, a sea raging with a louers teares.
200What is it else? A madnes most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet. Farewell Cose.
Ben: Nay Ile goe along.
And if you hinder me you doo me wrong.
205Ro: Tut I haue lost my selfe I am not here,
This is not Romeo, hee's some other where.
Ben: Tell me in sadnes whome she is you loue?
Ro: What shall I grone and tell thee?
Ben: Why no, but sadly tell me who.
210Ro: Bid a sickman in sadnes make his will.
Ah word ill vrgde to one that is so ill.
In sadnes Cosen I doo loue a woman.
Ben: I aimde so right, when as you said you lou'd.
Ro: A right good mark-man, and shee's faire I loue.
215Ben: A right faire marke faire Cose is soonest hit.
Ro: But in that hit you misse, shee'le not be hit
With Cupids arrow, she hath Dianaes wit,
And in strong proofe of chastitie well arm'd:
Gainst Cupids childish bow she liues vnharm'd,
220Shee'le not abide the siedge of louing tearmes,
Nor ope her lap to Saint seducing gold,
Ah she is rich in beautie, only poore,
That when she dies with beautie dies her store.
Exeu.