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twg_000000025500 | meaner creatures kings. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Bosworth Field Enter King Richard in arms, with Norfolk, Ratcliffe and the Earl of Surrey with others. KING RICHARD. Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth field. My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad? SURREY. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. KING RICHARD. My lord of Norfolk. NORFOLK. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025501 | Here, most gracious liege. KING RICHARD. Norfolk, we must have knocks, ha, must we not? NORFOLK. We must both give and take, my loving lord. KING RICHARD. Up with my tent! Here will I lie tonight. But where tomorrow? Well, alls one for that. Who hath descried the number of the traitors? NORFOLK. Six or seven thousand is their utmost | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025502 | power. KING RICHARD. Why, our battalia trebles that account. Besides, the Kings name is a tower of strength Which they upon the adverse faction want. Up with the tent! Come, noble gentlemen, Let us survey the vantage of the ground. Call for some men of sound direction; Lets lack no discipline, make no delay, For, lords, tomorrow is a busy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025503 | day. [_The tent is now ready. Exeunt._] Enter Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, Herbert, Blunt, and others who pitch Richmonds tent. RICHMOND. The weary sun hath made a golden set, And by the bright track of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day tomorrow. Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. Give me some ink and paper | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025504 | in my tent; Ill draw the form and model of our battle, Limit each leader to his several charge, And part in just proportion our small power. My Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon, And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me. The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment. Good Captain Blunt, bear my goodnight to him, And by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025505 | the second hour in the morning Desire the Earl to see me in my tent. Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me. Where is Lord Stanley quartered, do you know? BLUNT. Unless I have mistaen his colours much, Which well I am assured I have not done, His regiment lies half a mile at least South from the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025506 | mighty power of the King. RICHMOND. If without peril it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him, And give him from me this most needful note. BLUNT. Upon my life, my lord, Ill undertake it; And so God give you quiet rest tonight. RICHMOND. Good night, good Captain Blunt. [_Exit Blunt._] Come, gentlemen, Let us | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025507 | consult upon tomorrows business; Into my tent. The dew is raw and cold. [_Richmond, Brandon Herbert, and Oxford withdraw into the tent. The others exeunt._] Enter to his tent, King Richard, Ratcliffe, Norfolk and Catesby with Soldiers. KING RICHARD. What ist oclock? CATESBY. Its supper time, my lord. Its nine oclock. KING RICHARD. I will not sup tonight. Give me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025508 | some ink and paper. What, is my beaver easier than it was? And all my armour laid into my tent? CATESBY. It is, my liege, and all things are in readiness. KING RICHARD. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge; Use careful watch; choose trusty sentinels. NORFOLK. I go, my lord. KING RICHARD. Stir with the lark tomorrow, gentle Norfolk. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025509 | NORFOLK. I warrant you, my lord. [_Exit._] KING RICHARD. Catesby! CATESBY. My lord? KING RICHARD. Send out a pursuivant-at-arms To Stanleys regiment. Bid him bring his power Before sunrising, lest his son George fall Into the blind cave of eternal night. [_Exit Catesby._] Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch. Saddle white Surrey for the field tomorrow. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025510 | Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy. Ratcliffe! RATCLIFFE. My lord? KING RICHARD. Sawst thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland? RATCLIFFE. Thomas the Earl of Surrey and himself, Much about cockshut time, from troop to troop Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. KING RICHARD. So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine. I have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025511 | not that alacrity of spirit Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have. Set it down. Is ink and paper ready? RATCLIFFE. It is, my lord. KING RICHARD. Bid my guard watch; leave me. Ratcliffe, about the mid of night come to my tent And help to arm me. Leave me, I say. [_Exit Ratcliffe. Richard withdraws into | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025512 | his tent; attendant soldiers guard it_.] Enter Stanley Earl of Derby to Richmond in his tent. STANLEY. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm! RICHMOND. All comfort that the dark night can afford Be to thy person, noble father-in-law. Tell me, how fares our loving mother? STANLEY. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother, Who prays continually for Richmonds | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025513 | good. So much for that. The silent hours steal on, And flaky darkness breaks within the east. In brief, for so the season bids us be, Prepare thy battle early in the morning, And put thy fortune to the arbitrement Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. I, as I maythat which I would I cannot With best advantage will deceive | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025514 | the time, And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms. But on thy side I may not be too forward, Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, Be executed in his fathers sight. Farewell; the leisure and the fearful time Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love And ample interchange of sweet discourse, Which so-long-sundered friends should dwell upon. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025515 | God give us leisure for these rites of love! Once more, adieu. Be valiant, and speed well. RICHMOND. Good lords, conduct him to his regiment. Ill strive with troubled thoughts to take a nap, Lest leaden slumber peise me down tomorrow When I should mount with wings of victory. Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. [_All but Richmond | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025516 | leave his tent._] [_Kneels_.] O Thou, whose captain I account myself, Look on my forces with a gracious eye; Put in their hands Thy bruising irons of wrath, That they may crush down with a heavy fall Th usurping helmets of our adversaries; Make us Thy ministers of chastisement, That we may praise Thee in the victory. To Thee I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025517 | do commend my watchful soul Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes. Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still! [_Sleeps._] Enter the Ghost of young Prince Edward, son to Harry the Sixth. GHOST OF EDWARD. [_To King Richard._] Let me sit heavy on thy soul tomorrow. Think how thou stabbedst me in my prime of youth At Tewksbury; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025518 | despair therefore, and die! [_To Richmond._] Be cheerful, Richmond, for the wronged souls Of butchered princes fight in thy behalf. King Henrys issue, Richmond, comforts thee. [_Exit._] Enter the Ghost of Henry the Sixth. GHOST OF HENRY. [_To King Richard._] When I was mortal, my anointed body By thee was punched full of deadly holes. Think on the Tower and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025519 | me. Despair, and die; Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die. [_To Richmond._] Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror. Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be King, Doth comfort thee in thy sleep. Live, and flourish! [_Exit._] Enter the Ghost of Clarence. GHOST OF CLARENCE. [_To King Richard._] Let me sit heavy in thy soul tomorrow, I, that was washed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025520 | to death with fulsome wine, Poor Clarence, by thy guile betrayed to death. Tomorrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword. Despair, and die! [_To Richmond._] Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster, The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee. Good angels guard thy battle; live, and flourish. [_Exit._] Enter the Ghosts of Rivers, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025521 | Grey and Vaughan. GHOST OF RIVERS. [_To King Richard._] Let me sit heavy in thy soul tomorrow, Rivers that died at Pomfret. Despair and die! GHOST OF GREY. [_To King Richard._] Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair! GHOST OF VAUGHAN. [_To King Richard._] Think upon Vaughan, and with guilty fear Let fall thy lance. Despair and die! ALL | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025522 | THREE. [_To Richmond._] Awake, and think our wrongs in Richards bosom Will conquer him. Awake, and win the day. [_Exeunt._] Enter the Ghost of Hastings. GHOST OF HASTINGS. [_To King Richard._] Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake, And in a bloody battle end thy days. Think on Lord Hastings. Despair and die! [_To Richmond._] Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake. Arm, fight, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025523 | and conquer for fair Englands sake. [_Exit._] Enter the Ghosts of the two young Princes. GHOSTS OF PRINCES. [_To King Richard._] Dream on thy cousins smothered in the Tower. Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard, And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death; Thy nephews souls bid thee despair and die. [_To Richmond._] Sleep, Richmond, sleep in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025524 | peace, and wake in joy; Good angels guard thee from the boars annoy. Live, and beget a happy race of kings; Edwards unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. [_Exeunt._] Enter the Ghost of Lady Anne, his wife. GHOST OF ANNE. [_To King Richard._] Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife, That never slept a quiet hour with thee, Now | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025525 | fills thy sleep with perturbations. Tomorrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword. Despair and die! [_To Richmond._] Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep; Dream of success and happy victory. Thy adversarys wife doth pray for thee. [_Exit._] Enter the Ghost of Buckingham. GHOST OF BUCKINGHAM. [_To King Richard._] The first was I that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025526 | helped thee to the crown; The last was I that felt thy tyranny. O, in the battle think on Buckingham, And die in terror of thy guiltiness. Dream on, dream on of bloody deeds and death. Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath. [_To Richmond._] I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid, But cheer thy heart, and be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025527 | thou not dismayed. God and good angels fight on Richmonds side; And Richard fall in height of all his pride. [_Exit._] [_King Richard starts up out of his dream._] KING RICHARD. Give me another horse! Bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Jesu!Soft! I did but dream. O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! The lights burn blue; it is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025528 | now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? Myself? Theres none else by. Richard loves Richard, that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am. Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why, Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? For any good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025529 | That I myself have done unto myself? O, no, alas, I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself. I am a villain. Yet I lie, I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well. Fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025530 | a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the highest degree; Murder, stern murder, in the direst degree; All several sins, all used in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all Guilty, guilty! I shall despair. There is no creature loves me, And if I die no soul will pity me. And wherefore should they, since that I myself Find in myself | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025531 | no pity to myself? Methought the souls of all that I had murdered Came to my tent, and everyone did threat Tomorrows vengeance on the head of Richard. Enter Ratcliffe. RATCLIFFE. My lord! KING RICHARD. Zounds! Whos there? RATCLIFFE. Ratcliffe, my lord; tis I. The early village cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn; Your friends are up and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025532 | buckle on their armour. KING RICHARD. O Ratcliffe, I have dreamed a fearful dream! What thinkst thou, will our friends prove all true? RATCLIFFE. No doubt, my lord. KING RICHARD. O Ratcliffe, I fear, I fear! RATCLIFFE. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows. KING RICHARD. By the apostle Paul, shadows tonight Have struck more terror to the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025533 | soul of Richard Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers Armed in proof and led by shallow Richmond. Tis not yet near day. Come, go with me. Under our tents Ill play the eavesdropper, To see if any mean to shrink from me. [_Exeunt Richard and Ratcliffe._] Enter the Lords to Richmond in his tent. LORDS. Good morrow, Richmond. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025534 | RICHMOND. Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, That you have taen a tardy sluggard here. LORDS. How have you slept, my lord? RICHMOND. The sweetest sleep and fairest-boding dreams That ever entered in a drowsy head Have I since your departure had, my lords. Methought their souls whose bodies Richard murdered Came to my tent and cried on victory. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025535 | promise you, my heart is very jocund In the remembrance of so fair a dream. How far into the morning is it, lords? LORDS. Upon the stroke of four. RICHMOND. Why, then tis time to arm and give direction. His oration to his soldiers. More than I have said, loving countrymen, The leisure and enforcement of the time Forbids to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025536 | dwell upon. Yet remember this: God, and our good cause, fight upon our side; The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, Like high-reared bulwarks, stand before our faces. Richard except, those whom we fight against Had rather have us win than him they follow. For what is he they follow? Truly, gentlemen, A bloody tyrant and a homicide; One | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025537 | raised in blood, and one in blood established; One that made means to come by what he hath, And slaughtered those that were the means to help him; A base foul stone, made precious by the foil Of Englands chair, where he is falsely set; One that hath ever been Gods enemy. Then, if you fight against Gods enemy, God | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025538 | will, in justice, ward you as his soldiers; If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; If you do fight against your countrys foes, Your countrys fat shall pay your pains the hire; If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; If you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025539 | do free your children from the sword, Your childrens children quits it in your age. Then, in the name of God and all these rights, Advance your standards, draw your willing swords. For me, the ransom of my bold attempt Shall be this cold corpse on the earths cold face; But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025540 | least of you shall share his part thereof. Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully! God, and Saint George! Richmond and victory! [_Exeunt._] Enter King Richard, Ratcliffe and Soldiers. KING RICHARD. What said Northumberland as touching Richmond? RATCLIFFE. That he was never trained up in arms. KING RICHARD. He said the truth. And what said Surrey then? RATCLIFFE. He smiled, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025541 | and said, The better for our purpose. KING RICHARD. He was in the right, and so indeed it is. [_The clock striketh._] Tell the clock there. Give me a calendar. Who saw the sun today? RATCLIFFE. Not I, my lord. KING RICHARD. Then he disdains to shine, for by the book He should have braved the east an hour ago. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025542 | A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliffe! RATCLIFFE. My lord? KING RICHARD. The sun will not be seen today! The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. I would these dewy tears were from the ground. Not shine today? Why, what is that to me More than to Richmond? For the selfsame heaven That frowns on me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025543 | looks sadly upon him. Enter Norfolk. NORFOLK. Arm, arm, my lord. The foe vaunts in the field. KING RICHARD. Come, bustle, bustle! Caparison my horse. Call up Lord Stanley; bid him bring his power. I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, And thus my battle shall be ordered: My foreward shall be drawn out all in length, Consisting | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025544 | equally of horse and foot; Our archers shall be placed in the midst. John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. They thus directed, we will follow In the main battle, whose puissance on either side Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. This, and Saint George to boot! What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025545 | thinkst thou, Norfolk? NORFOLK. A good direction, warlike sovereign. [_He sheweth him a paper._] This found I on my tent this morning. KING RICHARD. [_Reads_.] Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold. For Dickon thy master is bought and sold. A thing devised by the enemy. Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge. Let not our babbling dreams affright our | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025546 | souls; Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Devised at first to keep the strong in awe. Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. March on. Join bravely. Let us to it pell-mell, If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. His oration to his army. What shall I say more than I have inferred? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025547 | Remember whom you are to cope withal, A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, A scum of Bretons and base lackey peasants, Whom their oer-cloyed country vomits forth To desperate adventures and assured destruction. You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest; You having lands, and blessed with beauteous wives, They would restrain the one, distain the other. And who | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025548 | doth lead them but a paltry fellow, Long kept in Brittany at our mothers cost? A milksop, one that never in his life Felt so much cold as over-shoes in snow? Lets whip these stragglers oer the seas again, Lash hence these overweening rags of France, These famished beggars, weary of their lives, Who, but for dreaming on this fond | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025549 | exploit, For want of means, poor rats, had hanged themselves. If we be conquered, let men conquer us, And not these bastard Bretons, whom our fathers Have in their own land beaten, bobbed, and thumped, And in record left them the heirs of shame. Shall these enjoy our lands? Lie with our wives, Ravish our daughters? [_Drum afar off._] Hark, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025550 | I hear their drum. Fight, gentlemen of England! Fight, bold yeomen! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood! Amaze the welkin with your broken staves! Enter a Messenger. What says Lord Stanley? Will he bring his power? MESSENGER. My lord, he doth deny to come. KING RICHARD. Off with his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025551 | son Georges head! NORFOLK. My lord, the enemy is past the marsh. After the battle let George Stanley die. KING RICHARD. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom. Advance our standards! Set upon our foes! Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! Upon them! Victory sits on our helms. [_Exeunt._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025552 | SCENE IV. Another part of the Field Alarum. Excursions. Enter Norfolk and Soldiers; to him Catesby. CATESBY. Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue! The King enacts more wonders than a man, Daring an opposite to every danger. His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death. Rescue, fair lord, or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025553 | else the day is lost! [_Exeunt Norfolk and Soldiers._] Alarum. Enter King Richard. KING RICHARD. A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse! CATESBY. Withdraw, my lord; Ill help you to a horse. KING RICHARD. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die. I think there be six Richmonds | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025554 | in the field; Five have I slain today instead of him. A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse! [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. Another part of the Field Alarum. Enter King Richard and Richmond. They fight. Richard is slain. Then retreat being sounded. Richmond exits, and Richards body is carried off. Flourish. Enter Richmond, Stanley Earl of Derby, bearing the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025555 | crown, with other Lords and Soldiers. RICHMOND. God and your arms be praised, victorious friends! The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. STANLEY. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee! Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty From the dead temples of this bloody wretch Have I plucked off, to grace thy brows withal. Wear it, enjoy it, and make | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025556 | much of it. RICHMOND. Great God of heaven, say Amen to all! But tell me, is young George Stanley living? STANLEY. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town, Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. RICHMOND. What men of name are slain on either side? STANLEY. John, Duke of Norfolk, Walter, Lord Ferrers, Sir Robert | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025557 | Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon. RICHMOND. Inter their bodies as becomes their births. Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled That in submission will return to us. And then, as we have taen the sacrament, We will unite the white rose and the red. Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, That long have frowned upon their enmity. What traitor hears | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025558 | me and says not Amen? England hath long been mad, and scarred herself: The brother blindly shed the brothers blood; The father rashly slaughtered his own son; The son, compelled, been butcher to the sire. All this divided York and Lancaster, Divided in their dire division. O, now let Richmond and Elizabeth, The true succeeders of each royal house, By | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025559 | Gods fair ordinance conjoin together, And let their heirs, God, if Thy will be so, Enrich the time to come with smoothed-faced peace, With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days. Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again, And make poor England weep in streams of blood. Let them not live to taste this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025560 | lands increase, That would with treason wound this fair lands peace. Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again. That she may long live here, God say Amen. [_Exeunt._] THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIET Contents THE PROLOGUE. ACT I Scene I. A public place. Scene II. A Street. Scene III. Room in Capulets House. Scene IV. A Street. Scene | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025561 | V. A Hall in Capulets House. ACT II CHORUS. Scene I. An open place adjoining Capulets Garden. Scene II. Capulets Garden. Scene III. Friar Lawrences Cell. Scene IV. A Street. Scene V. Capulets Garden. Scene VI. Friar Lawrences Cell. ACT III Scene I. A public Place. Scene II. A Room in Capulets House. Scene III. Friar Lawrences cell. Scene IV. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025562 | A Room in Capulets House. Scene V. An open Gallery to Juliets Chamber, overlooking the Garden. ACT IV Scene I. Friar Lawrences Cell. Scene II. Hall in Capulets House. Scene III. Juliets Chamber. Scene IV. Hall in Capulets House. Scene V. Juliets Chamber; Juliet on the bed. ACT V Scene I. Mantua. A Street. Scene II. Friar Lawrences Cell. Scene | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025563 | III. A churchyard; in it a Monument belonging to the Capulets. Dramatis Person ESCALUS, Prince of Verona. MERCUTIO, kinsman to the Prince, and friend to Romeo. PARIS, a young Nobleman, kinsman to the Prince. Page to Paris. MONTAGUE, head of a Veronese family at feud with the Capulets. LADY MONTAGUE, wife to Montague. ROMEO, son to Montague. BENVOLIO, nephew to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025564 | Montague, and friend to Romeo. ABRAM, servant to Montague. BALTHASAR, servant to Romeo. CAPULET, head of a Veronese family at feud with the Montagues. LADY CAPULET, wife to Capulet. JULIET, daughter to Capulet. TYBALT, nephew to Lady Capulet. CAPULETS COUSIN, an old man. NURSE to Juliet. PETER, servant to Juliets Nurse. SAMPSON, servant to Capulet. GREGORY, servant to Capulet. Servants. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025565 | FRIAR LAWRENCE, a Franciscan. FRIAR JOHN, of the same Order. An Apothecary. CHORUS. Three Musicians. An Officer. Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, relations to both houses; Maskers, Guards, Watchmen and Attendants. SCENE. During the greater part of the Play in Verona; once, in the Fifth Act, at Mantua. THE PROLOGUE Enter Chorus. CHORUS. Two households, both alike in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025566 | 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-crossd lovers take their life; Whose misadventurd piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents strife. The fearful passage of their death-markd love, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025567 | the continuance of their parents rage, Which, but their childrens 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. [_Exit._] ACT I SCENE I. A public place. Enter Sampson and Gregory armed with swords and bucklers. SAMPSON. Gregory, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025568 | on my word, well not carry coals. GREGORY. No, for then we should be colliers. SAMPSON. I mean, if we be in choler, well draw. GREGORY. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025569 | 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 Montagues. GREGORY. That shows thee a weak slave, for the weakest goes to the wall. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025570 | SAMPSON. True, and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montagues 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025571 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025572 | 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 and Balthasar. 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; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025573 | 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. ABRAM. Do you bite your thumb at us, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025574 | sir? SAMPSON. I do bite my thumb, sir. ABRAM. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? SAMPSON. Is the law of our side if I say ay? 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? ABRAM. Quarrel, sir? No, sir. SAMPSON. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025575 | 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. Say better; here comes one of my masters kinsmen. SAMPSON. Yes, better, sir. ABRAM. You lie. SAMPSON. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow. [_They fight._] BENVOLIO. Part, fools! put up your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025576 | swords, you know not what you do. [_Beats down their swords._] Enter Tybalt. TYBALT. 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. TYBALT. What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025577 | As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: Have at thee, coward. [_They fight._] Enter three or four 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. What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! LADY CAPULET. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025578 | A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword? CAPULET. My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me. Enter Montague and his 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 Escalus, with Attendants. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025579 | PRINCE. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained 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 mistemperd weapons to the ground And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Three | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025580 | civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturbd the quiet of our streets, And made Veronas ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Cankerd with peace, to part your cankerd hate. If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025581 | 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 judgement-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. [_Exeunt Prince and Attendants; Capulet, Lady Capulet, Tybalt, Citizens and Servants._] MONTAGUE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025582 | 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 prepard, Which, as he breathd defiance to my ears, He swung about his head, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025583 | and cut the winds, Who nothing hurt withal, hissd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025584 | hour before the worshippd sun Peerd 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 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025585 | 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, Pursud my humour, not pursuing his, And gladly shunnd who gladly fled from me. MONTAGUE. Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh mornings dew, Adding to clouds more clouds | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025586 | 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 Auroras 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025587 | 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 importund him by any means? MONTAGUE. Both by myself and many other friends; But he, his own affections counsellor, Is to himselfI will not say how true But to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025588 | 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. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure as know. Enter Romeo. BENVOLIO. See, where | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025589 | he comes. So please you step aside; Ill know his grievance or be much denied. MONTAGUE. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true shrift. Come, madam, lets away, [_Exeunt Montague and Lady Montague._] BENVOLIO. Good morrow, cousin. ROMEO. Is the day so young? BENVOLIO. But new struck nine. ROMEO. Ay me, sad hours seem long. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025590 | Was that my father that went hence so fast? BENVOLIO. It was. What sadness lengthens Romeos hours? ROMEO. Not having that which, having, makes them short. BENVOLIO. In love? ROMEO. Out. BENVOLIO. Of love? ROMEO. Out of her favour where I am in love. BENVOLIO. Alas that love so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025591 | 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 here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Heres much to do with hate, but more with love: Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O anything, of nothing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025592 | 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. ROMEO. Good heart, at what? BENVOLIO. At thy good hearts oppression. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025593 | ROMEO. Why such is loves transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate 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 made with the fume of sighs; Being purgd, a fire sparkling in lovers | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025594 | eyes; Being vexd, a sea nourishd with lovers tears: What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz. [_Going._] BENVOLIO. 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. This is not Romeo, hes some | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025595 | other where. BENVOLIO. Tell me in sadness who is that you love? ROMEO. What, shall I groan and tell thee? BENVOLIO. Groan! Why, no; but sadly tell me who. ROMEO. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will, A word ill urgd to one that is so ill. In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. BENVOLIO. I aimd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025596 | so near when I supposd you lovd. ROMEO. A right good markman, and shes fair I love. BENVOLIO. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. ROMEO. Well, in that hit you miss: shell not be hit With Cupids arrow, she hath Dians wit; And in strong proof of chastity well armd, From loves weak childish bow she lives | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025597 | uncharmd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms Nor bide thencounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O shes 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? ROMEO. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025598 | For beauty starvd 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 ruld by me, forget to think of her. ROMEO. O teach | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000025599 | me how I should forget to think. BENVOLIO. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties. ROMEO. 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
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