The Complete Tragedies of William Shakespeare - All 12 Books in One Edition. William ShakespeareЧитать онлайн книгу.
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 two of the house of 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 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.
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?
Abraham.
Quarrel, sir! no, sir.
Sampson. But if you do, sir, 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.
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
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
Have at thee, coward!
[They fight.]
[Enter several of both Houses, who join the fray; then enter
Citizens with clubs.]
1 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.
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, with Attendants.]
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 mistemper’d weapons to the ground
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:
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.
[Exeunt Prince and Attendants; Capulet, Lady Capulet, Tybalt,
Citizens, and Servants.]
Montague.
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 prepar’d;
Which, as he breath’d defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head, and cut the winds,
Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss’d 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 to-day?—
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.