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Because kind nature doth require it so:

Friends should associate friends in grief and woe. Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave; 170 Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.

Boy. O grandsire, grandsire! even with all my heart

Give sentence on this execrable wretch, That hath been breeder of these dire events.

Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him;

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There let him stand, and rave, and cry for food:
If any one relieves or pities him,
For the offence he dies. This is our doom:
Some stay to see him fasten'd in the earth.
Aar. O! why should wrath be mute, and fury
dumb?

I am no baby, I, that with base prayers
I should repent the evils I have done.
Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did
Would I perform, if I might have my will:
If one good deed in all my life I did,

I do repent it from my very soul.

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Luc. Some loving friends convey the emperor
hence,

And give him burial in his father's grave.
My father and Lavinia shall forthwith
Be closed in our household's monument.
As for that heinous tiger, Tamora,

Would I were dead, so you did live again.
O Lord! I cannot speak to him for weeping | Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity;
My tears will choke me if I ope my mouth.

Re-enter Attendants, with AARON.

No funeral rite, nor man in mourning weeds,
No mournful bell shall ring her burial;
But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey.

And, being so, shall have like want of pity. 200
See justice done on Aaron, that damn'd Moor,
By whom our heavy haps had their beginning:

Excunt.

First Rom. You sad Andronici, have done Then, afterwards, to order well the state,
with woes:
That like events may ne'er it ruinate.

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Citizens of Verona ; Kinsfolk of both Houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants.

Chorus.

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

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Gre. I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list.

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands

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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

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Samp. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,

thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them,
if they bear it.

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Samp. I do bite my thumb, sir.

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Samp. Aside to GREGORY. Is the law of our

side if I say ay?

Gre. No.

Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate.

Samp. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, If ever you disturb our streets again

sir; but I bite my thumb, sir.

Gre. Do you quarrel, sir?

Abr. Quarrel, sir! no, sir.

Samp. If you do, sir, I am for you I serve as

good a man as you.

Abr. No better.

Samp. Well, sir.

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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 all but MONTAGUE, Lady MONTAGUE,
and BENVOLIO.

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70

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Mon. Whoset thisancient quarrel newabroach?
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 prepar'd,
Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head, and cut the winds, 120
Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn.
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,

Till the prince came, who parted either part.
Lady Mon. O! where is Romeo? saw you him
to-day?

Tyb. What! art thou drawn among these Camemore and more, and fought on part and part, Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. Ben. I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,

Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'dsun

Or manage it to part these men with me.
Tyb. What! drawn, and talk of peace; I hate Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
the word,
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.
Have at thee, coward!

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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 sighs:
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 humour prove
Unless good counsel may the cause remove. 150
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause ?

Mon. I neither know it nor can learn of him.

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

Rom. What! shall I groan and tell thee?

Mon. Both by myself and many other friends: ❘ But sadly tell me who.

But he, his own affections' counsellor,

Ben.

Groan! why, no;

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will;

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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,

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Ben. I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd. Rom. A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.

Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
Rom. Well, in that hit you miss: she'll rot
be hit

With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,

Ben. See where he comes: so please you, step From love's weak childish bow she lives unaside;

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190

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 press'd
With more ofthine: 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.

Ben.

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

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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 is that you love.

harm'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:
O! 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 rul'd by me; forget to think of her.
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.

SCENE II.- The Same. A Strect.

Exeunt

Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant.
Cap. But 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 honourable 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 saving 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 1
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
Par. Younger than she are happy mothers

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light:

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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 buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
And like her most whose merit most shall be :
Which on more view, of many mine being one
May stand in number, though in reckoning nene.
Come, go with me. To Servant, giving a paper.

Go, sirrah, trudge about
Through fair Verona; find those persons out
Whose names are written there, and to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS.

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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;

Serv. Find them out whose names are written | But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd

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 cures with another's lan-
guish :

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

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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 mad-
man is;

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

fellow.

Serv. God gi' good den. I pray, sir, can you

read?

Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. 60 Serv. Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I pray, can you read any thing you see? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters and the language. 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 and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio and the lively Helena. 72 A fair assembly; whither should they come? Serv. Up.

Rom. Whither?

100

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 splendour of mine own.

Exeunt.

SCENE III.- The Same. A Room in CAPULET'S
House.

Enter Lady CAPULET and Nurse.

Lady 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.

Jul. How now! who calls?

Nurse.

Jul.

What is your will?

Your mother.

Madam, I am here.

Lady Cap. This is the matter. Nurse, give
leave awhile,

We must talk in secret: nurse, come back again;
I have remember'd me, thou 's hear our counsel.
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. 10
Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
Lady Cap. She's not fourteen.
Nurse.

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

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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 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,

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