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but discords: here's my fiddle stick, here's that shall make you dance, zounds! consort!

[Laying his Hand on his Sword. Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men; Either withdraw into some private place,

Or reason coolly of your grievances,
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them

I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Enter ROMEO.

Tib. Well, peace be with you, sir, here comes my


Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery. Tib. Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford No better term than this; thou art a villain.

Rom. Tibalt, the reason, that I have to love thee, Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting: villain I am none; Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not. Tib. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me, therefore turn and draw. Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee, But love thee better than thou canst devise: And so, good Capulet, (whose name I tender As dearly as my own) be satisfied. [Exit TIBALT, Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!— Ha! la stoccata carries it away-Tibalt-you ratcatcher.


Tib. What would'st thou have with me?

Mer. Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears; make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tib. I am for you, sir. [Drawing. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

... Mer. Come, sir, your passado.


Rom. Draw, Benvolio-beat down their weapons.— for shame, forbear this outrage


Hold, Tibalt, good Mercutio

Mer. I am hurt


A plague of both your houses! I am sped:

Is he gone, and hath nothing?

Ben. What, art thou hurt?

Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch, marry, 'tis enough. Go, fetch a surgeon,

Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: I am peppered, I warrant, for this world.-A plague of both your houses! -What? a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic. Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your


Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio,

Or I shall faint; a plague o' both your houses!
They have made worms' meat of me.

I have it, and soundly too; plague o' both your.

houses! [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO Rom. This gentleman, the Prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation's stain'd With Tibalt's slander: O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate, And in my temper softened valour's steel.


Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead; That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. Here comes the furious Tibalt back again.

Rom. Alive in triumph? and Mercutio slain? Away to Heav'n respective lenity,

And fire ey'd fury be my conduct now!


Now, Tibalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'st me: for Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads,

And thou or I must keep him company.

[They fight, and TIBALT falls.

Ben. Romeo, away, begone:

The citizens are up, and Tibalt slain

Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken: hence, begone, away!

Rom. Oh! I am fortune's fool.

[Exit ROMEO.


Prince. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? Ben. O noble Prince, I can discover all The unlucky manage of this fatal quarrel : There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

Cap. Unhappy sight! Alas, the blood is spill'd
Of my dear kinsman- -Now, as thou art a Prince,
For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.
Prince. Benvolio, who began this fray?
Ben. Tibalt, here slain;

Romeo, bespake him fair, bid him bethink
How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal
Your high displeasure: all this, uttered

With gentle breath, calm looks, knees humbly bow'd,
Could not make truce with the unruly spleen
Of Tibalt, 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 Tibalt, whose dexterity

Retorts it: Romeo, he cries aloud,

Hold, friends, friends, part! and, swifter than his tongue,

His agile arm beats down their fatal points,

And 'twixt them rushes, underneath whose arm
An envious thrust from Tibalt hit the life
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tibalt fled;
But by and by comes 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 Tibalt slain :
And, as he fell, did Romeo turn to fly :
This is the truth, or let Benvolio suffer.

Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montagues,
Affection makes him false; he speaks not true;
I beg for justice, justice, gracious Prince!
Romeo slew Tibalt: Romeo must not live.

Prince. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
Mon. Romeo but took the forfeit life of Tibalt.
Prince. And we, for that offence, do banish him.
I have an interest in your heady brawls;

My blood doth flow from brave Mercutio's wounds.
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine,
That you shall all repent my loss in him.
I will be deaf to pleading and excuse,
Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase our repeal:
Therefore use none, let Romeo begone,

Else, when he is found, that hour is his last.



An Apartment in CAPULET's House.

Enter JULIET alone.

Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery footed steeds, To Phœbus' 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 the run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen, Come night, come Romeo! Come thou day in night! For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night, Whiter than snow upon the raven's back: Give me my Romeo, night, and when he dies, Take him, and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of Heaven so fine, That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun. Oh, here comes my Nurse;

Enter NURSE.

And she brings news, and every tongue that speaks
But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence.
Now, Nurse, what news?

Why dost thou wring thy hands?


Nurse. Ah well-a-day, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!

We are undone, lady, we are undone

Jul. Can Heaven be so envious?

Nurse. Romeo can,

Though Heaven cannot. Oh! Romeo! Romeo !, Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus ?

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