ACT I PROLOGUE Two households, both alike in dignity,
In colorado springs, 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-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's 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.
SCENE I. Colorado springs. A public place. Enter John and Jake, of the house of Quinn, armed with swords and bucklers.
John Jake, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.
Jake No, for then we should be colliers.
John I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.
Jake Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.
John I strike quickly, being moved.
Jake But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
John A dog of the house of Sully moves me.
Jake To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:
therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.
John A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will
take the wall of any man or maid of sully's.
Jake That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes
to the wall.
John True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,
are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
Sullys's men from the wall, and thrust his maids
to the wall.
Jake The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.
John 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I
have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the
maids, and cut off their heads.
Jake The heads of the maids?
John Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;
take it in what sense thou wilt.
Jake They must take it in sense that feel it.
John Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and
'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.
Jake 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou
hadst been poor Timothy. Draw thy tool! here comes
two of the house of the Sullys.
John My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.
Jake How! turn thy back and run?
John Fear me not.
Jake No, marry; I fear thee!
John Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.
Jake I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as
they list.
John Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;
which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.
Enter Horace and Lewis
Horace Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
John I do bite my thumb, sir.
Horace Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
John [Aside to Jake] Is the law of our side, if I say
ay?
Jake No.
John No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I
bite my thumb, sir.
Jake Do you quarrel, sir?
Horace Quarrel sir! no, sir.
John If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.
Horace No better.
John Well, sir.
Jake Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.
John Yes, better, sir.
Horace You lie.
John Draw, if you be men. Jake, remember thy swashing blow.
They fight ,Enter Daniel .
Daniel Part, fools!
Put up your swords; you know not what you do.
Beats down their swords, Enter David
David What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
Turn thee, Daniel, look upon thy death.
Daniel I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.
David What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,
As I hate hell, all Sully, and thee:
Have at thee, coward!
They fight Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs.
First Citizen Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!
Down with the Quinns! down with the Sullys!
Enter Josef Quinn in his gown, and Elizabeth Quinn
Josef Quinn What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!
Elizabeth Quinn A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword? J
osef Quinn My sword, I say! Old Sully is come,
And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
Enter Mr Sully and Mrs Sully.
Mr Sully Thou villain Josef Quinn,-Hold me not, let me go.
Mrs Sully Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.
Enter Preston the banker, with Attendants.
Preston what is here, throw your weapons down and listen to what i say, you fools all playing with bloody weapons. Mr Quinn and Mr sully this has gone too far now, once more pain or death all men depart, you Quinn will come with me and you Sully will met me afternoon.
Exeunt all but Mr sully, Mrs sully and Daniel.
Mr Sully Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
Speak, Beloved friend of Byron, were you by when it began?
Daniel 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 David, 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 hiss'd him in scorn:
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more and fought on part and part,
Till the Banker came, who parted either part.
Mrs Sully O, where is Byron? saw you him to-day?
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
Daniel Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
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,
Pursued my humour not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
Mr Sully Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning 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 the light steals home my heavy son,
And private in his chamber pens himself,
Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out
And makes himself an artificial night:
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
Daniel My noble master, do you know the cause?
Mr Sully dont call me master, thee are me son best friend. I neither know it nor can learn of him.
Daniel Have you importuned him by any means?
Mr Sully 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 Byron
Daniel
See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
Mr sully
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.
Exeunt Mr Sully and Mrs Sully
Daniel
Good-morrow, friend.
Byron
Is the day so young?
Daniel
But new struck nine.
Byron
Ay me! sad hours seem long.
Was that my father that went hence so fast?
Daniel
It was. What sadness lengthens Byron's hours?
Byron
Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
Daniel
In love?
Byron
Out-
Daniel
Of love?
Byron
Out of her favour, where I am in
Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
Byron
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 any thing, of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
Mis-shapen 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?
Daniel
No, coz, I rather weep.
Byron
Good heart, at what?
Daniel
At thy good heart's oppression.
Byron
Why, such is love's 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 raised with the fume of sighs;
Being purged, 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.
Daniel
Soft! I will go along;
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
Byron
Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
This is not Byron, he's some other where.
Daniel
Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.
Byron
What, shall I groan and tell thee?
Daniel
Groan! why, no.
But sadly tell me who.
Byron
Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:
Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
Daniel
I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.
Byron
A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love. 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 unharmed. 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.
Daniel
Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?
Byron
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.
Daniel
Be ruled by me, forget to think of her. By giving liberty unto thine eyes. Examine other beauties.
Byron
'Tis the way
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.
Daneil
I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
Exeunt
SCENE II. A street.
Enter Josef Quinn and William.
Josef Quinn
But Mr Sully 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.
William
Of honourable reckoning are you both;
And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
Josef Quinn
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,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
William: Younger than she are happy mothers made.
Josef Quinn: soon thee will marry my child and in good care will both of thee live. But get her heart before any man else. you can go now.
exeunt Josef Quinn and Wiliam.
SCENE III. A room in Quinn's house.
Enter Elizabeth Quinn and Martha
Elizabeth Quinn
Martha, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
Martha
Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,
I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
God forbid! Where's this girl? What,Micheala! Enter Micheala
Micheala
How now! who calls?
Martha
Your mother.
Micheala
Madam, I am here.
What is your will?
Elizabeth quinn
This is the matter:Martha, give leave awhile,
We must talk in secret:-Martha, come back again;
I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.
Martha
Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
Mrs Quinn
She's not fourteen.
Martha
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-
And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four-
She is not fourteen. How long is it now
To Lammas-tide?
Mrs Quinn
A fortnight and odd days.
Martha
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.
Mrs Quinn
Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.
Martha
Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,
To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:
'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;
Wilt thou not, Mike?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'
Micheala
And stint thou too, I pray thee, Martha, say I.
Martha
Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:
An I might live to see thee married once,
I have my wish.
Mrs Quinn
Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme
I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Micheala,
How stands your disposition to be married?
Micheala:It is an honour that I dream not of.
Martha
An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
Mrs Quinn
Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,
Here in Colorado, ladies of esteem,
Are made already mothers: by my count,
I was your mother much upon these years
That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:
The valiant William seeks you for his love.
Martha
A man, young lady! lady, such a man
As all the world-why, he's a man of wax.
Mrs Quinn
Colorado's summer hath not such a flower.
Martha
Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
Mrs Quinn
What say you? can you love the gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our feast;
Read o'er the volume of young Williams' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every married lineament,
And see how one another lends content
And what obscured in this fair volume lies
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride
For fair without the fair within to hide:
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less.
Martha
No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.
Mrs Quinn
Speak briefly, can you like of William' s love?
Micheala
I'll look to like, if looking liking move:
But no more deep will I endart mine eye
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. Enter a Servant
Servant
Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you
called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in
the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must
hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.
Mrs Quinn
We follow thee.
Exit Servant
Micheala, the county stays.
Martha
Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
Exeunt
SCENE IV. A street. Enter Byron, Hank,Daniel, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others
Byron
What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
Or shall we on without a apology?
Daniel
The date is out of such prolixity:
We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
After the prompter, for our entrance:
But let them measure us by what they will;
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.
Byron
Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
Hank
Nay, gentle Byron, we must have you dance.
Byron
Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes
With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead
So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
Hank
You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
And soar with them above a common bound.
Byron
I am too sore enpierced with his shaft
To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.
Hank
And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
Too great oppression for a tender thing.
Byron
Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
Hank
If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
Give me a case to put my visage in:
A visor for a visor! what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.
Hank
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
The traces of the smallest spider's web,
The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
Not so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
Then dreams, he of another benefice:
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night,
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage:
This is she-
Byron
Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
Thou talk'st of nothing.
Hank
True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
Daniel
This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
Byron
I fear, too early: for my mind misgives
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
With this night's revels and expire the term
Of a despised life closed in my breast
By some vile forfeit of untimely death.
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.
Daniel
Strike, drum.
Exeunt