_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_  
_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._ 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_ LADY MONTAGUE  
_Montague._ Thou villain Capulet!--Hold me not, let me go.  
_Lady Montague._ Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.  
_Enter_ PRINCE, _with his train_  
_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,

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