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These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face,

The last true duties of thy noble son.

Marc. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips: O! were the sum of these that I should pay pay them. Countless and infinite, yet would Luc. Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us

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To melt in showers: thy grandsire lov'd thee
well:

Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee,
Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow;
Many a matter hath he told to thee,
Meet and agreeing with thine infancy;
In that respect, then, like a loving child,
Shed yet some small drops from thy tender
spring,

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

Would I were dead, so you did live again.
O Lord! I cannot speak to him for weeping;
My tears will choke me if I ope my mouth.

Re-enter Attendants, with AARON.

Give sentence on this execrable wretch,
That hath been breeder of these dire events.
Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish
him ;

There let him stand, and rave, and cry for food:
If any one relieves or pities him,

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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,
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.
Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity;
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:

First Rom. You sad Andronici, have done Then, afterwards, to order well the state,
with woes:

That like events may ne'er it ruinate.

Exeunt.

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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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Samp. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.

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

Samp. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my 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.

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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.

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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,
Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
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
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.

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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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Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
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,
Camemore and more, and fought on part and part,
Till the prince came, who parted either part.

Lady Mon. O! where is Romeo? saw you him
to-day?

Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

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Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'dsun
Peer'd 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 the city's 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,
That most are busied when they're most alone,
Pursu'd my humour not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

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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.

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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? Mon. Both by myself and many other friends: But he, his own affections' counsellor, 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 sun. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure as know.

Enter ROMEO.

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Rom. What shall I groan and tell thee?
Ben.
Groan! why, no;

But sadly tell me who.

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Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will; Ah! word ill urg'd to one that is so ill. In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. 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 not be hit

With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,
From love's weak childish bow she lives un-
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.

Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,

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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 any thing! of nothing first created.
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?

Ben.

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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 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 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.

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

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.

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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.

Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Same. A Street. 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.

suit!

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 Cap. But saying 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 1o Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made.

Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made.

The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
My will to her consent is but a part;

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At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:

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,

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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 none. 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. Serv. Find them out whose names are written 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 languish :

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

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Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry! Exit.

Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st, With all the admired beauties of Verona : Go thither; and with unattainted eye Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires!

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Lady Cap. A fortnight and odd days. 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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