Gre. [Aside to Sampson.] No.
Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you,
sir; but I bite my thumb, sir. 57
Gre. Do you quarrel, sir?
Abr. Quarrel, sir! no, sir.
Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as
good a man as you. 61
Abr. No better.
Sam. Well, sir.
Enter Benvolio.
Gre. [Aside to Sampson.] Say, 'better'; here
comes one of my master's kinsmen. 65
Sam. Yes, better, sir.
Abr. You lie.
Sam. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, re-
member thy swashing blow. [Fight.]
Ben. Part, fools!
Put up your swords; you know not what you do.
[Beats down their swords.]
Enter Tybalt.
Tyb. What! art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? 72
Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.
Ben. I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.
Tyb. What! drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word, 76
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.
Have at thee, coward! Fight.
65 kinsmen; cf. n.
72 drawn: with drawn sword
heartless: cowardly
hinds: menials
