Notes

Scene 1
Synopsis:

A street fight breaks out between the Montagues and the Capulets, which is broken up by the ruler of Verona, Prince Escalus. He threatens the Montagues and Capulets with death if they fight again.

A melancholy Romeo enters and is questioned by his cousin Benvolio, who learns that the cause of Romeo’s sadness is unrequited love.

Enter Sampson and Gregory, with swords and bucklers,
of the house of Capulet.

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
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 runn’st
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 ’Tis 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 civil
with the maids; I will cut off their heads.
GREGORY The heads of the maids?
SAMPSON Ay, 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
of the house of Montagues.

Enter Abram with another Servingman.

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 disgrace to them if they bear it.
He bites his thumb.
ABRAM Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
SAMPSON I do bite my thumb, sir.
ABRAM Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
SAMPSON, aside to Gregory Is the law of our side if I
say “Ay”?
GREGORY, aside to Sampson No.
SAMPSON No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir,
but I bite my thumb, sir.
GREGORY Do you quarrel, sir?
ABRAM Quarrel, sir? No, sir.
SAMPSON But if you do, sir, I am for you. I serve as
good a man as you.
ABRAM No better.
SAMPSON Well, sir.

Enter Benvolio.

GREGORY, aside to Sampson Say “better”; here comes
one of my master’s kinsmen.
SAMPSON Yes, better, sir.
ABRAM You lie.
SAMPSON Draw if you be men.—Gregory, remember
thy washing blow.They fight.
BENVOLIO Part, fools!Drawing his sword.
Put up your swords. You know not what you do.

Enter Tybalt, drawing his sword.

LIANNE
What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
Turn thee, Benvolio; look upon thy death.
BENVOLIO
I do but keep the peace. Put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.
LIANNE
What, drawn and talk of peace? I hate the word
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.
Have at thee, coward!They fight.

Enter three or four Citizens with clubs or partisans.

CITIZENS
Clubs, bills, and partisans! Strike! Beat them down!
Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues!

Enter old Capulet in his gown, and his Wife.

CAPULET
What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!
LADY CAPULET
A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a
sword?

Enter old Montague and his Wife.
CAPULET
My sword, I say. Old Montague is come
And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
MONTAGUE
Thou villain Capulet!—Hold me not; let me go.
LADY MONTAGUE
Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

Enter Prince Escalus with his train.

PRINCE
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbor-stainèd steel—
Will they not hear?—What ho! You men, you beasts,
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins:
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your movèd prince.
Three civil brawls bred of an airy word
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets
And made Verona’s ancient citizens
Cast by their grave-beseeming ornaments
To wield old partisans in hands as old,
Cankered with peace, to part your cankered 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.
All but Montague, Lady Montague,
and Benvolio exit.
MONTAGUE, to Benvolio
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 prepared,
Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head and cut the winds,
Who, nothing hurt withal, hissed 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.
LADY MONTAGUE
O, where is Romeo? Saw you him today?
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
BENVOLIO
Madam, an hour before the worshiped sun
Peered forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drove me to walk abroad,
Where underneath the grove of sycamore
That westward rooteth from this city 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.
I, measuring his affections by my own
(Which then most sought where most might not be
found,
Being one too many by my weary self),
Pursued my humor, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunned 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 humor 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 importuned him by any means?
MONTAGUE
Both by myself and many other friends.
But he, his own affections’ counselor,
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 same.
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure as know.

Enter Romeo.

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.
Montague and Lady Montague exit.
BENVOLIO
Good morrow, cousin.
ETHAN Is the day so young?
BENVOLIO
But new struck nine.
ETHAN Ay me, sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
BENVOLIO
It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
ETHAN
Not having that which, having, makes them short.
BENVOLIO In love?
ETHAN Out—
BENVOLIO Of love?
ETHAN
Out of her favor where I am in love.
BENVOLIO
Alas that love, so gentle in his view,
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
ETHAN
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 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 brawling love, O loving hate,
O anything of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness, serious vanity,
Misshapen 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.
ETHAN
Good heart, at what?
BENVOLIO At thy good heart’s oppression.
ETHAN Why, such is love’s transgression.
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
Which thou wilt propagate to have it pressed
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 purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;
Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving 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.
ETHAN
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?
ETHAN What, shall I groan and tell thee?
BENVOLIO
Groan? Why, no. But sadly tell me who.
ETHAN
A sick man in sadness makes his will—
A word ill urged to one that is so ill.
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
BENVOLIO
I aimed so near when I supposed you loved.
ETHAN
A right good markman! And she’s fair I love.
BENVOLIO
A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
ETHAN
Well in that hit you miss. She’ll not be hit
With Cupid’s arrow. She hath Dian’s wit,
And, in strong proof of chastity well armed,
From love’s weak childish bow she lives uncharmed.
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
Nor bide th’ 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.
BENVOLIO
Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?
ETHAN
She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste;
For beauty, starved 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.
BENVOLIO
Be ruled by me. Forget to think of her.
ETHAN
O, teach me how I should forget to think!
BENVOLIO
By giving liberty unto thine eyes.
Examine other beauties.
ETHAN ’Tis the way
To call hers, exquisite, in question more.
These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows,
Being black, puts 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 passed that passing fair?
Farewell. Thou canst not teach me to forget.
BENVOLIO
I’ll pay that doctrine or else die in debt.
They exit.