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Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all
The unlucky manage of this fatal braul:
There lies the man slain by young Romeo,
That flew thy kinsman brave Mercutio.
La. Cap. Tybalt my cousin! O my brother's child,
Unhappy sight! alas the blood is spilld
Of my dear kinsman
Prince as thou art true,
For blood of ours, shed blood of Mountague.
Prin. Benvolio, who began this fray?
Ben. Tybalt here Nain, whom Romeo's hand did say:
Romeo that spoke him fair, bid bim bethink
How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal
Your high displeasure: all this uttered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees bumbly bowd,
Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
, deaf to peace, but that he tilts
With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast;
Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
And with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
Cold death aside, and with the other sends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity
Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,
Hold friends, friends part! and swifter than his tongue,
His agil arm bears down their fatal points,
And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled.
But by and by come back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
And to’t they go like lightning: for ere I
Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain;
And as he fell, did Romeo turn to fly:
This is the truth, or lec Benvolio die.
La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Mountague,
Affection makes him false, he speaks not true.
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
And all those twenty could but kill one life.
I beg for justice, which thou prince must give;
Romeo flew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
Prin. Romeo flew him, he flew Mercutio,
Who now the price of his dear blood doth ove.
La. Cap. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend,
His fault concludes but what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.
Prin. And for that offence,
Immediately we do exile him hence :
I have an interest in your hearts proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawls doch lye a bleeding,
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine,
you shall all repent the loss of mine.
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses,
Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses,
Therefore use none; let Romeo hence in halte,
Else when he is found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body, and attend our will:
Mercy but murthers, pardoning those that kill. [Exeunt.
An Apartment in Capulet's House.
Enter Juliet alone.
ALLOP apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
To Phabus' mansion; such a waggoner
As Phaeton, would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
That run-aways eyes may wink; and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalkt of and unseen.
Lovers can see to do their am'rous rites
By their own beauties: or if love be blind,
It best agrees with night. Come civil' night,
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
And learn me how to lose a winning match,
Plaid for a pair of stainless maidenheads.
Hood my unmann'd blood baiting in my cheeks,
With thy balck mantle ; 'till strange love, grown bold,
Thinks true love acted, simple modesty.
Come night, come Romeo, coine thou day in night,
For thou wilt lye upon the wings of night,
Whiter than new snow on a raven's back:
Come gentle night, come loving black-brow'd night,
Give me my Romeo, and when he shall die
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heav'n so fine,
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possess’d it; and though I am sold,
Not yet enjoy’d; so tedious is this day,
As is the night before some festival,
To an impacient child that hath new robes,
And may not wear them. O here comes my nurse!
Enter Nurse with cords.
And she brings news, and every tongue that speaks
But Romeo's name, speaks heav’nly eloquence;
Now nurse, what news? what halt thou there?
The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch ?
Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords.
Jul. Ay me, what news ?
Why dost thou wring thy hands ?
Nurse. Ah welladay be's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
We are undone, lady, we are undone ----
Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead.
Jul. Can heaven be so envious ?
Nurse. Romeo can,
Though heav'n cannot. O Romeo! Romeo!
Who ever would have thought it, Romeo?
Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus ?
This torture should be roard in dismal hell.
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but ay;
And that bare vowel ay, shall poison more
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice.
Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,
God save the mark, here on his manly breast.
A piteous coarse, a bloody piteous coarse;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb’d in blood,
All in gore blood, I swooned at the sight.
Jul. O break, my heart poor bankrupt break at once!
To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty;
Vile earth to earth refign, end motion here,
And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier !
Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had:
O courteous Tybalt, honest gentleman,
That ever I should live to see thee dead.
Jul. What form is this that blows so contrary?
Is Romeo Naughter'd? and is Tybalt dead?
My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord:
Then let the trumpet sound the general doom,
* The strange lines that follow here in the common books are not in the old edition.
c deareft. Vol. VI.
For who is living, if those two are gone?
Nurse. Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished,
Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.
Jul. O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalts blood?
Nurse. It did, it did, alas the day! it did.
Jul. O ferpent heart, hid with a flowring face,
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical!
O nature! what hadst thou to do in hell,
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
lo mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?
Was ever book containing such vile matter
So fairly bound: O that deceit should dwell
. In such a gorgeous palace!
Nurse. There's no trust,
No faith, no honesty in men; all perjurid;
All, all forsworn; all naught; and all diffemblers.
Ah, where's my man? give me some Aqua vite
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old!
Shame come to Romeo!
Jul. Blister'd be thy tongue
For such a wish, he was not born to shame,
Upon his brow shame is alham'd to fit:
For ’tis a throne where honour may be crown'd,
Sole monarch of the universal earth.
O what a beast was I to chide him fo?
Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your coufin?
Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is
busband? Ah poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
fiend angelical, + Ravenous dove, feather'd raven, Wolvilh-ravening lamby Despised substance of divinest show: Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st. À damned saint, an honourable villain: O nature! &c. + These lines not in the first edition, as well as some others which I have omitted.