Chapter 1

Executive Director's Notes:

In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they are presented herein:

Barnardo. Who's there? Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold your selfe

Bar. Long liue the King

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As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u, above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .

The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day, as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.

You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available . . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes, that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous for signing his name with several different spellings.

So, please take this into account when reading the comments below made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors that are "not" errors. . . .

So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors, here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of Henry the Sixt.

Michael S. Hart Project Gutenberg Executive Director

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Scanner's Notes:

What this is and isn't. This was taken from a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can come in ASCII to the printed text.

The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don't like that you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer Shakespeare.

Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the printer's habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn't thrown away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different First Folio editions' best pages.

David Reed

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The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Sampson and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers, of the House of Capulet.

Sampson. Gregory: A my word wee'l not carry coales

Greg. No, for then we should be Colliars

Samp. I mean, if we be in choller, wee'l draw

Greg. I, While you liue, draw your necke out o'th Collar

Samp. I strike quickly, being mou'd

Greg. But thou art not quickly mou'd to strike

Samp. A dog of the house of Mountague, moues me

Greg. To moue, is to stir: and to be valiant, is to stand: Therefore, if thou art mou'd, thou runst away

Samp. A dogge of that house shall moue me to stand. I will take the wall of any Man or Maid of Mountagues

Greg. That shewes thee a weake slaue, for the weakest goes to the wall

Samp. True, and therefore women being the weaker Vessels, are euer thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Mountagues men from the wall, and thrust his Maides to the wall

Greg. The Quarrell is betweene our Masters, and vs their men

Samp. 'Tis all one, I will shew my selfe a tyrant: when I haue fought with the men, I will bee ciuill with the Maids, and cut off their heads

Greg. The heads of the Maids? Sam. I, the heads of the Maids, or their Maiden-heads, Take it in what sence thou wilt

Greg. They must take it sence, that feele it

Samp. Me they shall feele while I am able to stand: And 'tis knowne I am a pretty peece of flesh

Greg. 'Tis well thou art not Fish: If thou had'st, thou had'st beene poore Iohn. Draw thy Toole, here comes of the House of the Mountagues. Enter two other Seruingmen.

Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I wil back thee Gre. How? Turne thy backe, and run

Sam. Feare me not

Gre. No marry: I feare thee

Sam. Let vs take the Law of our sides: let them begin

Gr. I wil frown as I passe by, & let the[m] take it as they list Sam. Nay, as they dare. I wil bite my Thumb at them, which is a disgrace to them, if they beare it

Abra. Do you bite your Thumbe at vs sir? Samp. I do bite my Thumbe, sir

Abra. Do you bite your Thumb at vs, sir? Sam. Is the Law of our side, if I say I? Gre. No

Sam. No sir, I do not bite my Thumbe at you sir: but I bite my Thumbe sir

Greg. Do you quarrell sir? Abra. Quarrell sir? no sir

Sam. If you do sir, I am for you, I serue as good a man as you Abra. No better? Samp. Well sir. Enter Benuolio.

Gr. Say better: here comes one of my masters kinsmen

Samp. Yes, better

Abra. You Lye

Samp. Draw if you be men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow.

They Fight.

Ben. Part Fooles, put vp your Swords, you know not what you do. Enter Tibalt.

Tyb. What art thou drawne, among these heartlesse Hindes? Turne thee Benuolio, looke vpon thy death

Ben. I do but keepe the peace, put vp thy Sword, Or manage it to part these men with me

Tyb. What draw, and talke of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell, all Mountagues, and thee: Haue at thee Coward.

Fight.

Enter three or foure Citizens with Clubs.

Offi. Clubs, Bils, and Partisons, strike, beat them down Downe with the Capulets, downe with the Mountagues. Enter old Capulet in his Gowne, and his wife.

Cap. What noise is this? Giue me my long Sword ho

Wife. A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword? Cap. My Sword I say: Old Mountague is come, And flourishes his Blade in spight of me. Enter old Mountague, & his wife.

Moun. Thou villaine Capulet. Hold me not, let me go 2.Wife. Thou shalt not stir a foote to seeke a Foe. Enter Prince Eskales, with his Traine.

Prince. Rebellious Subiects, Enemies to peace, Prophaners of this Neighbor-stained Steele, Will they not heare? What hoe, you Men, you Beasts, That quench the fire of your pernitious Rage, With purple Fountaines issuing from your Veines: On paine of Torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd Weapons to the ground, And heare the Sentence of your mooued Prince. Three ciuill Broyles, bred of an Ayery word, By thee old Capulet and Mountague, Haue thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient Citizens Cast by their Graue beseeming Ornaments, To wield old Partizans, in hands as old, Cankred with peace, to part your Cankred hate, If euer you disturbe our streets againe, Your liues shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the rest depart away: You Capulet shall goe along with me, And Mountague come you this afternoone, To know our Fathers pleasure in this case: To old Free-towne, our common iudgement place: Once more on paine of death, all men depart.

Exeunt.

Moun. Who set this auncient quarrell new abroach? Speake Nephew, were you by, when it began: Ben. Heere were the seruants of your aduersarie, And yours close fighting ere I did approach, I drew to part them, in the instant came The fiery Tibalt, with his sword prepar'd, Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares, He swong about his head, and cut the windes, Who nothing hurt withall, hist him in scorne. While we were enterchanging thrusts and blowes, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part

Wife. O where is Romeo, saw you him to day? Right glad am I, he was not at this fray

Ben. Madam, an houre before the worshipt Sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the East, A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad, Where vnderneath the groue of Sycamour, That West-ward rooteth from this City side: So earely walking did I see your Sonne: Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, And stole into the couert of the wood, I measuring his affections by my owne, Which then most sought, wher most might not be found: Being one too many by my weary selfe, Pursued my Honour, not pursuing his And gladly shunn'd, who gladly fled from me

Mount. Many a morning hath he there beene seene, With teares augmenting the fresh mornings deaw, Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepe sighes, But all so soone as the all-cheering Sunne, Should in the farthest East begin to draw The shadie Curtaines from Auroras bed, Away from light steales home my heauy Sonne, And priuate in his Chamber pennes himselfe, Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day-light out, And makes himselfe an artificiall night: Blacke and portendous must this humour proue, Vnlesse good counsell may the cause remoue

Ben. My Noble Vncle doe you know the cause? Moun. I neither know it, nor can learne of him

Ben. Haue you importun'd him by any meanes? Moun. Both by my selfe and many other Friends, But he his owne affections counseller, Is to himselfe (I will not say how true) But to himselfe so secret and so close, So farre from sounding and discouery, As is the bud bit with an enuious worme, Ere he can spread his sweete leaues to the ayre, Or dedicate his beauty to the same. Could we but learne from whence his sorrowes grow, We would as willingly giue cure, as know. Enter Romeo.

Ben. See where he comes, so please you step aside, Ile know his greeuance, or be much denide

Moun. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To heare true shrift. Come Madam let's away.

Exeunt.

Ben. Good morrow Cousin

Rom. Is the day so young? Ben. But new strooke nine

Rom. Aye me, sad houres seeme long: Was that my Father that went hence so fast? Ben. It was: what sadnes lengthens Romeo's houres? Ro. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them short Ben. In loue

Romeo. Out

Ben. Of loue

Rom. Out of her fauour where I am in loue

Ben. Alas that loue so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proofe

Rom. Alas that loue, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes, see path-wayes to his will: Where shall we dine? O me: what fray was heere? Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all: Heere's much to do with hate, but more with loue: Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate, O any thing, of nothing first created: O heauie lightnesse, serious vanity, Mishapen Chaos of welseeming formes, Feather of lead, bright smoake, cold fire, sicke health, Still waking sleepe, that is not what it is: This loue feele I, that feele no loue in this. Doest thou not laugh? Ben. No Coze, I rather weepe

Rom. Good heart, at what? Ben. At thy good hearts oppression

Rom. Why such is loues transgression. Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preast With more of thine, this loue that thou hast showne, Doth adde more griefe, to too much of mine owne. Loue, is a smoake made with the fume of sighes, Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in Louers eyes, Being vext, a Sea nourisht with louing teares, What is it else? a madnesse, most discreet, A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet: Farewell my Coze

Ben. Soft I will goe along. And if you leaue me so, you do me wrong

Rom. Tut I haue lost my selfe, I am not here, This is not Romeo, hee's some other where

Ben. Tell me in sadnesse, who is that you loue? Rom. What shall I grone and tell thee? Ben. Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who

Rom. A sicke man in sadnesse makes his will: A word ill vrg'd to one that is so ill: In sadnesse Cozin, I do loue a woman

Ben. I aym'd so neare, when I suppos'd you lou'd

Rom. A right good marke man, and shee's faire I loue Ben. A right faire marke, faire Coze, is soonest hit

Rom. Well in that hit you misse, sheel not be hit With Cupids arrow, she hath Dians wit: And in strong proofe of chastity well arm'd: From loues weake childish Bow, she liues vncharm'd. Shee will not stay the siege of louing tearmes, Nor bid th' encounter of assailing eyes. Nor open her lap to Sainct-seducing Gold: O she is rich in beautie, onely poore, That when she dies, with beautie dies her store

Ben. Then she hath sworne, that she will still liue chast? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing make huge wast? For beauty steru'd with her seuerity, Cuts beauty off from all posteritie. She is too faire, too wise: wisely too faire, To merit blisse by making me dispaire: She hath forsworne to loue, and in that vow Do I liue dead, that liue to tell it now

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to thinke of her

Rom. O teach me how I should forget to thinke

Ben. By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes, Examine other beauties, Ro. 'Tis the way to cal hers (exquisit) in question more, These happy maskes that kisse faire Ladies browes, Being blacke, puts vs in mind they hide the faire: He that is strooken blind, cannot forget The precious treasure of his eye-sight lost: Shew me a Mistresse that is passing faire, What doth her beauty serue but as a note, Where I may read who past that passing faire. Farewell thou can'st not teach me to forget, Ben. Ile pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

Exeunt.

Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.

Capu. Mountague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I thinke, For men so old as wee, to keepe the peace

Par. Of Honourable reckoning are you both, And pittie 'tis you liu'd at ods so long: But now my Lord, what say you to my sute? Capu. But saying ore what I haue said before, My Child is yet a stranger in the world, Shee hath not seene the change of fourteene yeares, Let two more Summers wither in their pride, Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a Bride

Pari. Younger then she, are happy mothers made

Capu. And too soone mar'd are those so early made: Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, Shee's the hopefull Lady of my earth: But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent, is but a part, And shee agree, within her scope of choise, Lyes my consent, and faire according voice: This night I hold an old accustom'd Feast, Whereto I haue inuited many a Guest, Such as I loue, and you among the store, One more, most welcome makes my number more: At my poore house, looke to behold this night, Earth-treading starres, that make darke heauen light, Such comfort as do lusty young men feele, When well apparrel'd Aprill on the heele Of limping Winter treads, euen such delight Among fresh Fennell buds shall you this night Inherit at my house: heare all, all see: And like her most, whose merit most shall be: Which one more veiw, of many, mine being one, May stand in number, though in reckning none. Come, goe with me: goe sirrah trudge about, Through faire Verona, find those persons out, Whose names are written there, and to them say, My house and welcome, on their pleasure stay. Enter.

Ser. Find them out whose names are written. Heere it is written, that the Shoo-maker should meddle with his Yard, and the Tayler with his Last, the Fisher with his Pensill, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am sent to find those persons whose names are writ, & can neuer find what names the writing person hath here writ (I must to the learned) in good time. Enter Benuolio, and Romeo.

Ben. Tut man, one fire burnes out anothers burning, One paine is lesned by anothers anguish: Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning: One desparate greefe, cures with anothers languish: Take thou some new infection to the eye, And the rank poyson of the old wil die

Rom. Your Plantan leafe 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 then a mad man is: Shut vp in prison, kept without my foode, Whipt and tormented: and Godden good fellow, Ser. Godgigoden, I pray sir can you read? Rom. I mine owne fortune in my miserie

Ser. Perhaps you haue learn'd it without booke: But I pray can you read any thing you see? Rom. I, if I know the Letters and the Language

Ser. Ye say honestly, rest you merry

Rom. Stay fellow, I can read.

He reades the Letter.

Seigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County Anselme and his beautious sisters: the Lady widdow of Vtruuio, Seigneur Placentio, and his louely Neeces: Mercutio and his brother Valentine: mine vncle Capulet his wife and daughters: my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia, Seigneur Valentio, & his Cosen Tybalt: Lucio and the liuely Helena. A faire assembly, whither should they come? Ser. Vp

Rom. Whither? to supper? Ser. To our house

Rom. Whose house? Ser. My Maisters

Rom. Indeed I should haue askt you that before

Ser. Now Ile tell you without asking. My maister is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Mountagues I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry. Enter.

Ben. At this same auncient Feast of Capulets Sups the faire Rosaline, whom thou so loues: With all the admired Beauties of Verona, Go thither and with vnattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee thinke thy Swan a Crow

Rom. When the deuout religion of mine eye Maintaines such falshood, then turne teares to fire: And these who often drown'd could neuer die, Transparent Heretiques be burnt for liers. One fairer then my loue: the all-seeing Sun Nere saw her match, since first the world begun

Ben. Tut, you saw her faire, none else being by, Herselfe poys'd with herselfe in either eye: But in that Christall scales, let there be waid, Your Ladies loue against some other Maid That I will show you, shining at this Feast, And she shew scant shell, well, that now shewes best

Rom. Ile goe along, no such sight to be showne, But to reioyce in splendor of mine owne. Enter Capulets Wife and Nurse.

Wife. Nurse wher's my daughter? call her forth to me

Nurse. Now by my Maidenhead, at twelue yeare old I bad her come, what Lamb: what Ladi-bird, God forbid, Where's this Girle? what Iuliet? Enter Iuliet

Iuliet. How now, who calls? Nur. Your Mother

Iuliet. Madam I am heere, what is your will? Wife. This is the matter: Nurse giue me leaue awhile, we must talke in secret. Nurse come backe againe, I haue remembred me, thou'se heare our counsell. Thou knowest my daughter's of a prety age

Nurse. Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre

Wife. Shee's not fourteene

Nurse. Ile lay fourteene of my teeth, And yet to my teene be it spoken, I haue but foure, shee's not fourteene. How long is it now to Lammas tide? Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes

Nurse. Euen or odde, of all daies in the yeare come Lammas Eue at night shall she be fourteene. Susan & she, God rest all Christian soules, were of an age. Well Susan is with God, she was too good for me. But as I said, on Lamas Eue at night shall she be fourteene, that shall she marie, I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earth-quake now eleuen yeares, and she was wean'd I neuer shall forget it, of all the daies of the yeare, vpon that day: for I had then laid Worme-wood to my Dug sitting in the Sunne vnder the Douehouse wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But as I said, when it did tast the Worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge, and felt it bitter, pretty foole, to see it teachie, and fall out with the Dugge, Shake quoth the Doue-house, 'twas no neede I trow to bid mee trudge, and since that time it is a eleuen yeares, for then she could stand alone, nay bi'th' roode she could haue runne, & wadled all about: for euen the day before she broke her brow, & then my Husband God be with his soule, a was a merrie man, tooke vp the Child, yea quoth hee, doest thou fall vpon thy face? thou wilt fall backeward when thou hast more wit, wilt thou not Iule? And by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch lefte crying, & said I: to see now how a Iest shall come about. I warrant, & I shall liue a thousand yeares, I neuer should forget it: wilt thou not Iule quoth he? and pretty foole it stinted, and said I

Old La. Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace

Nurse. Yes Madam, yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to thinke it should leaue crying, & say I: and yet I warrant it had vpon it brow, a bumpe as big as a young Cockrels stone? A perilous knock, and it cryed bitterly. Yea quoth my husband, fall'st vpon thy face, thou wilt fall backward when thou commest to age: wilt thou not Iule? It stinted: and said I

Iule. And stint thou too, I pray thee Nurse, say I

Nur. Peace I haue done: God marke thee too his grace thou wast the prettiest Babe that ere I nurst, and I might liue to see thee married once, I haue my wish

Old La. Marry that marry is the very theame I came to talke of, tell me daughter Iuliet, How stands your disposition to be Married? Iuli. It is an houre that I dreame not of

Nur. An houre, were I not thine onely Nurse, I would say thou had'st suckt wisedome from thy teat

Old La. Well thinke of marriage now, yonger then you Heere in Verona, Ladies of esteeme, Are made already Mothers. By my count I was your Mother, much vpon these yeares That you are now a Maide, thus then in briefe: The valiant Paris seekes you for his loue

Nurse. A man young Lady, Lady, such a man as all the world. Why hee's a man of waxe

Old La. Veronas Summer hath not such a flower

Nurse. Nay hee's a flower, infaith a very flower

Old La. What say you, can you loue the Gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our Feast, Read ore the volume of young Paris face, And find delight, writ there with Beauties pen: Examine euery seuerall liniament, And see how one another lends content: And what obscur'd in this faire volume lies, Find written in the Margent of his eyes. This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer, To Beautifie him, onely lacks a Couer. The fish liues in the Sea, and 'tis much pride For faire without, the faire within to hide: That Booke in manies eyes doth share the glorie, That in Gold claspes, Lockes in the Golden storie: So shall you share all that he doth possesse, By hauing him, making your selfe no lesse

Nurse. No lesse, nay bigger: women grow by men

Old La. Speake briefly, can you like of Paris loue? Iuli. Ile looke to like, if looking liking moue. But no more deepe will I endart mine eye, Then your consent giues strength to make flye. Enter a Seruing man.

Ser. Madam, the guests are come, supper seru'd vp, you cal'd, my young Lady askt for, the Nurse cur'st in the Pantery, and euery thing in extremitie: I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow straight. Enter.

Mo. We follow thee, Iuliet, the Countie staies

Nurse. Goe Gyrle, seeke happie nights to happy daies.

Exeunt.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with fiue or sixe other Maskers, Torch-bearers.