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Romeo and Juliet

Act I, Scene 1

PROLOGUE
 
CHORUS
            ,     ,         2   ,        ,     ,
      Two house|holds,| both alike | in dig|nity,
           ,       ,       ,         ,          ,
      In fair | Vero|na, where | we lay | our scene,
            ,          ,       ,         ,   ,
      From an|cient grudge | break to | new mu/tiny,
             ,       ,            ,       ,         ,
      Where ci|vil blood | makes ci|vil hands | unclean.
             ,          ,       ,          ,           ,
5     From forth | the fa|tal loins | of these | two foes
          ,         ,            ,        ,            ,
      A pair | of star-|crossed^lov|ers take | their life;
             ,     ,         ,   2   ,       ,
      Whose mis|adven|tured pi|teous o|verthrows
       ,                ,      ,            ,           ,
      Do with | their death | bury | their pa|rents' strife.
            ,       ,                     ,      ,     ,
      The fear|ful pas|sage of their // death-marked love,
       ,            ,     ,      2       ,          ,
10    And the | contin|uance | of their pa|rents' rage,
        ,                  ,          ,       ,               ,
      Which, but | their chil|dren's end,| nought could | remove,
          ,         ,      ,      ,                 ,
      Is now | the two | hours' traf/fic of | our stage;
            ,         ,          ,         ,        ,
      The which | if you | with pa|tient ears | attend,
             ,            ,           ,             ,          ,
      What here | shall miss, | our toil | shall strive | to mend.
 
[SCENE I. Verona. A public place.]
 
[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, and we be in choler, we'll draw.
 
GREGORY
Aye, 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: therefore, if thou art moved, thou runnst away.
 
SAMPSON
A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.
 
GREGORY
That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall.
 
SAMPSON
True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall.
 
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, I will be cruel with the maids, and cut off their heads.
 
GREGORY
The heads of the maids?
 
SAMPSON
Aye, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; 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 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.
 
GREGORY
'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. 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?
 
SAMPSON
Fear me not.
 
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; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.
 
[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 aye?
 
GREGORY
No.
 
SAMPSON
No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir.
 
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.
 
ABRAHAM
No better.
 
SAMPSON
Well, sir.
 
GREGORY
Say better: here comes one of my master's kinsmen.
 
SAMPSON
Yes, better, sir.
 
ABRAHAM
You lie.
 
SAMPSON
Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.
 
[They fight]
 
[Enter BENVOLIO]
 
BENVOLIO
Part, fools, put up your swords; you know not what you do.
 
[Beats down their swords. Enter TYBALT]
 
TYBALT
        ,               ,        ,            ,          ,
15    What art | thou drawn | among | these heart|less hinds?
        ,             ,  2     ,      ,          ,
      Turn thee | Benvo|lio, look | upon | thy death.
 
BENVOLIO
         ,         ,          ,          ,         ,
      I do | but keep | the peace:| put up | thy sword,
          ,       ,        ,           ,          ,
      Or man|age it | to part | these men | with me.
 
TYBALT
             ,          ,         ,         ,          ,
      What draw,| and talk | of peace?| I hate | the word
         ,          ,         ,      ,          ,
20    As I | hate hell,| all Mon|tagues,| and thee:
            ,         ,
      Have at | thee coward.  \\
 
[They fight. Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs]
 
FIRST CITIZEN
Clubs, bills, and partisans, strike, beat them down. Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!
 
[Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET]
 
CAPULET
             ,          ,      ,    2       T    T    T
      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 Mon|tague | is come,
            ,      ,          ,          ,         ,
25    And flour|ishes | his blade | in spite | of me.
 
[Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE]
 
MONTAGUE
            ,        ,    2     ,        ,       2    ,
      Thou vil|lain Cap|ulet. Hold | me not,| let me go.
 
LADY MONTAGUE
             ,           ,        ,         ,       ,
      Thou shalt | not stir | a foot | to seek | a foe.
 
[Enter PRINCE, with Attendants]
 
PRINCE
         ,    2    ,          ,    ,         ,
      Rebel|lious sub|jects, en|emies | to peace,
          ,       ,           ,         ,        ,
      Profa|ners of | this neigh|bour-stain|ed steel,
             ,          ,          ,        ,           ,
30    Will they | not hear?| What ho,| you men,| you beasts,
              ,           ,         ,        ,         ,
      That quench | the fire | of your | perni|cious rage
            ,        ,         ,   2     ,           ,
      With pur|ple foun|tains is|suing from | your veins,
           ,        ,          ,            ,       ,
      On pain | of tor|ture, from | those blood|y hands
        ,              ,         ,        ,          ,
      Throw your | mistem|pered wea|pons to | the ground,
            ,         ,         ,         ,        ,
35    And hear | the sen|tence of | your mo|ved prince.
              ,        ,       ,           ,      ,
      Three* ci|vil brawls,| bred of | an air|y word,
           ,         ,    ,         ,     ,
      By thee | old Cap|ulet | and Mon|tague,
              ,           ,          ,      ,          ,
      Have thrice | disturbed | the qui|et of | our streets,
            ,       ,       ,        ,     ,
      And made | Vero|na's an|cient cit|izens
        ,               ,        ,        ,     ,
40    Cast by | their grave | besee|ming or|naments,
           ,          ,      ,         ,         ,
      To wield | old par|tisans,| in hands | as old,
        ,               ,          ,          ,          ,
      Cankered | with peace,| to part | your can|kered hate:
         ,      ,         ,           ,         ,
      If e|ver you | disturb | our streets | again,
             ,            ,         ,        ,         ,
      Your lives | shall pay | the for|feit of | the peace.
            ,          ,          ,        ,      ,
45    For this | time all | the rest | depart | away:
           ,    ,           ,      ,          ,
      You Cap|ulet | shall go | along | with me:
           ,     ,          ,          ,      ,
      And Mon|tague | come you | this af|ternoon,
           ,         ,         ,        ,          ,
      To know | our fur|ther plea|sure in | this case,
                 ,    ,         ,        ,         ,
      To old / Free-town,| our com|mon judg|ment-place.
             ,         ,         ,          ,        ,
50    Once more | on pain | of death,| all men | depart.
 
[Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO]
 
MONTAGUE
           ,          ,         ,       ,        ,
      Who set | this an|cient quar|rel new | abroach?
        ,    ,                   ,         ,      ,
      Speak ne/phew, were | you by | when it | began?
 
BENVOLIO
        ,      2       ,          ,         ,     ,
      Here were the | servants | of your | adver|sary,
       .    T     T     T        ,    ,            ,
      And yours close figh|ting ere | I did | approach:
          ,         ,           ,        ,         ,
55    I drew | to part | them: in | the in|stant came
           ,      ,         ,          ,          ,
      The fie|ry Ty|balt, with | his sword | prepared,
        ,               ,         ,       ,        ,
      Which as | he breathed | defi|ance to | my ears,
           ,        ,          ,         ,          ,
      He swung | about | his head | and cut | the winds,
           ,         ,         ,      ,              ,
      Who no|thing hurt | withal | hissed him | in scorn:
             ,         ,      ,          ,            ,
60    While we | were in|terchan|ging thrusts | and blows,
             ,          ,           ,          ,          ,
      Came more | and more | and fought | on part | and part,
                    ,     ,         ,       ,        ,
      Till the / prince came,| who par|ted ei|ther part.
 
LADY MONTAGUE
          ,         ,  2    ,         ,       ,
      O where | is Ro|meo? Saw | you him | today?
              ,       ,       ,         ,          ,
      Right glad | I am | he was | not at | this fray.
 
BENVOLIO
       ,            ,        ,         ,           ,
65    Madam, | an hour | before | the wor|shipped sun
         ,               ,       ,       ,         ,
      Peered forth^|the gol|den win|dow of | the east,
          ,         ,      ,             ,       ,
      A trou|bled mind | drave me | to walk | abroad;
             ,      ,           ,         ,     ,
      Where un|derneath | the grove | of sy|camore
             ,         ,        ,         ,        ,
      That west|ward root|eth from | the ci|ty's side,
          ,      ,        ,       ,          ,
70    So ear|ly wal|king did | I see | your son:
         ,              ,         ,         ,        ,
      Towards him | I made,| but he | was ware | of me
            ,        ,        ,       ,         ,
      And stole | into | the co|vert of | the wood:
         ,     2    ,       ,         ,       ,
      I mea|suring his | affec|tions by | my own,
             ,         ,        ,              ,       ,
      That most | are bus|ied when | they're most | alone,
           ,        ,       ,        ,      ,
75    Pursued | my hu|mour not | pursu|ing his,
            ,        ,            ,       ,          ,
      And glad|ly shunned | who glad|ly fled | from me.
 
MONTAGUE
       ,        ,         ,         ,            ,
      Many | a mor|ning hath | he there | been seen,
             ,         ,               ,    ,        ,
      With tears | augmen|ting the / fresh mor|ning dew.
       ,    2        T     T     T                ,    ,
      Adding to | clouds more clouds | with his deep sighs;
           ,         ,              ,    ,        ,
80    But all | so soon | as the / all-cheer|ing sun
              ,        ,          ,       ,         ,
      Should in | the fur|thest east | begin | to draw
           ,      ,          ,       ,       ,
      The sha|dy cur|tains from | Auror|a's bed,
        ,        2      ,        T     T   .  T      ,
      Away | from the light | steals home my hea|vy son,
           ,        ,         ,        ,         ,
      And pri|vate in | his cham|ber pens | himself,
        ,     2       T   T     T            ,         ,
85    Shuts up his | windows, locks | fair* day|light^out
            ,          ,        ,    ,        ,
      And makes | himself | an ar|tifi|cial night:
        ,             ,         ,          ,       ,
      Black and | porten|tous must | this hu|mor prove,
          ,           ,       ,          ,         ,
      Unless | good coun|sel may | the cause | remove.
 
BENVOLIO
          ,      ,       ,         ,          ,
      My no|ble un|cle, do | you know | the cause?
 
MONTAGUE
         ,         ,        ,          ,         ,
90    I nei|ther know | it nor | can learn | of him.
 
BENVOLIO
        ,         ,      ,            ,      ,
      Have you | impor|tuned him | by a|ny means?
 
MONTAGUE
        ,           ,         ,    ,         ,
      Both by | myself | and ma|ny o|ther friends:
           ,        ,       ,           ,      ,
      But he | his own | affec|tions' coun|sellor,
          ,        ,        ,         ,          ,
      Is to | himself |(I will | not say | how true)
           ,        ,        ,       ,         ,
95    But to | himself | so se|cret and | so close,
          ,           ,        ,        ,    ,
      So far | from soun|ding and | disco|very,
          ,        ,     ,             ,   2     ,
      As is | the bud | bit with | an en|vious worm,
       ,              ,           ,        ,             ,
      Ere he | can spread | his sweet | leaves to | the air,
          ,     ,          ,      ,        ,
      Or ded|icate | his beau|ty to | the sun.
        ,              ,             ,          ,         ,
100   Could we | but learn | from whence | his sor|rows grow.
           ,         ,       ,          ,         ,
      We would | as wil|lingly | give cure | as know.
 
[Enter ROMEO]
 
BENVOLIO
       ,               ,           ,           ,       ,
      See where | he comes:| so please | you step | aside;
             ,          ,          ,        ,        ,
      I'll know | his grie|vance, or | be much | denied.
 
MONTAGUE
          ,            ,        ,      ,         ,
      I would | thou wert | so hap|py by | thy stay,
       .   T    T     T           ,        ,       ,
105   To hear true shrift.| Come^ma|dam, let's | away.
 
[Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE]
 
BENVOLIO
            ,        ,
      Good mor|row, cou|sin.
 
ROMEO
                             ,        ,         ,
                            Is | the day | so young?
 
BENVOLIO
           ,             ,
      But new | struck nine.
 
ROMEO
                                 ,         ,            ,
                            Aye me,| sad^hours | seem long:
            ,        ,        ,           ,          ,
110   Was that | my fa|ther that | went hence | so fast?
 
BENVOLIO
          ,          ,         ,         ,   2     ,
      It was.| What sad|ness length|ens Ro|meo's hours?
 
ROMEO
           ,        ,           ,         ,            ,
      Not ha|ving that,| which ha|ving, makes | them short.
 
BENVOLIO
           ,
      In love.
 
ROMEO
               ___
               Out.
 
BENVOLIO
                        ,
                   Of love.  (pickup)
 
ROMEO
       ,            ,        ,        ,        ,
115   Out of | her fa|vor, where | I am | in love.
 
BENVOLIO
         ,          ,        ,       ,         ,
      Alas | that love | so gen|tle in | his view,
              ,       ,      ,          ,          ,
      Should be | so tyr|annous | and rough | in proof.
 
ROMEO
         ,          ,            ,        ,         ,
      Alas | that love,| whose view | is muf|fled still,
         ,              ,          ,        ,         ,
      Should with|out eyes,| see path|ways to | his will:
        ,                ,       ,          ,          ,
120   Where shall | we dine?| O me:| What fray | was here?
            ,        ,        ,          ,         ,
      Yet tell | me not,| for I | have heard | it all.
               ,        ,          ,          ,           ,
      Here's much | to do | with hate,| but more | with love.
            ,        ,         ,       ,        ,
      Why then,| O brawl|ing love,| O lov|ing hate,
        ,     ,         ,         ,         ,
      O a|nything,| of no|thing first | create:
         ,       ,          ,   2    ,    ,
125   O hea|vy light|ness, ser|ious van|ity,
          ,       ,            ,   ,         ,
      Missha|pen cha|os of / well-see|ming forms,
       ,     2       T      T     T       T    T     T        T   ->
      Feather of | lead, bright smoke,| cold fire, sick || health,
        T      T        ,              ,        2    ,
      Still-waking | sleep, that | is not | what it is:
             ,         ,          ,         ,         ,
      This love | feel I,| that feel | no love | in this.
             ,          ,
130   Dost thou | not laugh?  (picked up)
 
BENVOLIO
       T  T   .  T        ,
      No coz, I ra|ther weep.
 
ROMEO
                                     ,          ,
                             Good* heart,| at what?
 
BENVOLIO
          ,            ,          ,       o
      At thy | good heart's | oppres|sion.
 
ROMEO
            ,         ,             ,        o
      Why such | is love's | transgres|sion.     (tetra with prev)
         ,              ,         ,      ,         ,
135   Griefs of | mine^own | lie hea|vy in | my breast,
              ,          ,      ,         ,         ,
      Which thou | wilt pro|pagate | to have | it prest
             ,         ,            ,           ,           ,
      With more | of thine:| this love | that thou | hast shown
            ,           ,         ,          ,         ,
      Doth add | more grief | to too | much of | mine^own.
        ,           ,        ,                ,         ,
      Love is | a smoke | raised with | the fume | of sighs;
        2      ,         ,      ,             ,         ,
140   Being purged,| a fire | sparkling | in lo|vers' eyes;
        2     ,        ,      ,               ,         ,
      Being vexed,| a sea | nourished | with lo|vers' tears:
            ,        ,       ,         ,         ,
      What is | it else?| A mad|ness most | discreet,
         ,         ,     ,          ,         ,
      A cho|king gall | and a | preser|ving sweet.
            ,        ,
      Farewell,| my coz.
 
BENVOLIO
                          ,            ,      ,
145                     Soft I | will go | along.
           ,         ,         ,        ,        ,
      And if | you leave | me so,| you do | me wrong.
 
ROMEO
       ,             ,        ,            ,    ,
      Tut I | have lost | myself;| I am / not here;
        ,            ,  2     ,         ,        ,
      This is | not Ro|meo, he's | some o|ther where.
 
BENVOLIO
        ,           ,         ,         ,          ,
      Tell me | in sad|ness, who | is that | you love.
 
ROMEO
        ,              ,           ,
150   What shall | I groan | and tell | thee?
 
BENVOLIO
      <-  ,            ,         ,       ,        ,    oo
        Groan, why || no: but | sad|ly tell | me who.|
     
 
ROMEO
       ,        ,            ,         ,          ,
      Bid a | sick man | in sad|ness make | his will:
          ,          ,         ,          ,       ,
      A word | ill urged | to one | that is | so ill.
          ,          x     ,        ,       ,
      In sad|ness cousin,| I do | love a | woman.
 
BENVOLIO
          ,          ,         ,        ,           ,
      I aimed | so near,| when I | supposed | you loved.
 
ROMEO
          ,            ,         ,            ,        ,
155   A right | good mark-|man, and | she's fair | I love.
 
BENVOLIO
          ,            ,          ,         ,       ,
      A right | fair mark,| fair coz,| is soon|est hit.
 
ROMEO
            ,         ,          ,            ,        ,
      Well in | that hit | you miss:| she'll not | be hit
            ,        ,       ,          ,       ,
      With Cu|pid's ar|row, she | hath Di|an's wit:
                  ,     ,          ,           ,    ,
      And in / strong proof | of chas|tity / well armed,
             ,             ,        ,          ,         ,
160   From love's | weak^child|ish bow,| she lives |uncharmed.
            ,          ,          ,         ,        ,
      She will | not stay | the siege | of lo|ving terms,
            ,       2    ,       ,       ,        ,
      Nor bide | the encoun|ter of | assail|ing eyes,
           ,         ,         ,       ,        ,
      Nor ope | her lap | to saint-|sedu|cing gold:
         ,         ,         ,       ,      ,
      O she | is rich | in beau|ty, on|ly poor,
             ,          ,           ,       ,          ,
165   That when | she dies,| with beau|ty dies | her store.
 
BENVOLIO
            ,           ,           ,           ,             ,
      Then she | hath sworn | that she | will still | live chaste?
 
ROMEO
            ,     ,    2        ,          T     T    T
      She hath,| and in that | sparing | makes huge waste,
            ,        ,            ,       ,    ,
      For beau|ty starved | with her | sever|ity
        T    T  .  T          ,        ,    ,
      Cuts beauty^off | from all | poster|ity.
           ,         ,          ,      ,            ,
170   She is | too fair,| too wise:| wisely | too fair,
          ,       ,         ,       ,        ,
      To me|rit bliss | by ma|king me | despair:
            ,         ,          ,         ,         ,
      She hath | forsworn | to love,| and in | that vow
         ,          ,           ,         ,        ,
      Do I | live dead | that live | to tell | it now.
 
BENVOLIO
           ,         ,       ,         ,         ,
      Be ruled | by me,| forget | to think | of her.
 
ROMEO
          ,         ,         ,         ,         ,
175   O teach | me how | I should | forget | to think.
 
BENVOLIO
          ,       ,     ,      ,           ,
      By gi|ving li|berty | unto | thine^eyes;
        ,      ,        ,
      Exa|mine o|ther beau|ties.
 
ROMEO
                                  ,         ,
                                'Tis | the way
           ,      ,      ,             ,         ,
      To call | hers ex|quisite,| in ques|tion more:
             ,       ,            ,          ,         ,
180   These hap|py masks | that kiss | fair la|dies' brows
        2     ,      ,            ,           ,          ,
      Being black | put us | in mind | they hide | the fair;
       ,              ,        ,         ,        ,
      He that | is strick|en blind | cannot | forget
           ,          ,        ,        ,          ,
      The pre|cious trea|sure of | his eye|sight lost:
        ,          ,          ,        ,         ,
      Show me | a mis|tress that | is pas|sing fair,
             ,          ,       ,          ,       ,
185   What doth | her beau|ty serve | but as | a note
            ,         ,           ,           ,         ,
      Where I | may read | who passed | that pas|sing fair?
            ,           ,           ,         ,       ,
      Farewell:| thou canst | not teach | me to | forget.
 
BENVOLIO
            ,          ,                ,   ,         ,
      I'll pay | that doc|trine, or / else die | in debt.
 
[Exeunt]

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