Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as

soon moody to be moved.

BENVOLIO And what to?

MERCUTIO Nay, an there were two such, we should have none

shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why,

thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more,

or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou

wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no

other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what

eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel?

Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of

meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as

an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a

man for coughing in the street, because he hath

wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun:

didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing

his new doublet before Easter? with another, for

tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou

wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

BENVOLIO An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man

should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

MERCUTIO The fee-simple! O simple!

BENVOLIO By my head, here come the Capulets.

MERCUTIO By my heel, I care not.

Enter TYBALT and others

TYBALT Follow me close, for I will speak to them.

Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.

MERCUTIO And but one word with one of us? couple it with

something; make it a word and a blow.

TYBALT You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you

will give me occasion.

MERCUTIO Could you not take some occasion without giving?

TYBALT Mercutio, thou consort’st with Romeo,–

MERCUTIO Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an

thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but

discords: here’s my fiddlestick; here’s that shall

make you dance. ’Zounds, consort!

BENVOLIO We talk here in the public haunt of men:

Either withdraw unto some private place,

And reason coldly of your grievances,

Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

MERCUTIO Men’s eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;

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

Enter ROMEO

TYBALT Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.

MERCUTIO But I’ll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery:

Marry, go before to field, he’ll be your follower;

Your worship in that sense may call him ’man.’

TYBALT Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford

No better term than this,–thou art a villain.

ROMEO Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee

Doth much excuse the appertaining rage

To such a greeting: villain am I none;

Therefore farewell; I see thou know’st me not.

TYBALT Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries

That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.

ROMEO I do protest, I never injured thee,

But love thee better than thou canst devise,

Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:

And so, good Capulet,–which name I tender

As dearly as my own,–be satisfied.

MERCUTIO O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!

Alla stoccata carries it away.

Draws

Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

TYBALT What wouldst thou have with me?

MERCUTIO Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine

lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you

shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the

eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher

by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your

ears ere it be out.

TYBALT I am for you.

Drawing

ROMEO Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

MERCUTIO Come, sir, your passado.

They fight

ROMEO Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.

Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!

Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath

Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:

Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!

TYBALT under ROMEO’s arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies with his followers

MERCUTIO I am hurt.

A plague o’ both your houses! I am sped.

Is he gone, and hath nothing?

BENVOLIO What, art thou hurt?

MERCUTIO Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, ’tis enough.

Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.

Exit Page

ROMEO Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

MERCUTIO No, ’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a

church-door; but ’tis enough, ’twill serve: ask for

me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I

am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o’

both your houses! ’Zounds, 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 arm.

ROMEO I thought all for the best.

MERCUTIO 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: your houses!

Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO

ROMEO This gentleman, the prince’s near ally,

My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt

In my behalf; my reputation stain’d

With Tybalt’s slander,–Tybalt, that an hour

Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet,

Thy beauty hath made me effeminate

And in my temper soften’d valour’s steel!

Re-enter BENVOLIO

BENVOLIO O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead!

That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,

Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.

ROMEO This day’s black fate on more days doth depend;

This but begins the woe, others must end.

BENVOLIO Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

ROMEO Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!

Away to heaven, respective lenity,

And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!

Re-enter TYBALT

Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,

That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio’s soul

Is but a little way above our heads,

Staying for thine to keep him company:

Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.

TYBALT Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,

Shalt with him hence.

ROMEO This shall determine that.

They fight; TYBALT falls

BENVOLIO Romeo, away, be gone!

The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.

Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death,

If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!

ROMEO O, I am fortune’s fool!

BENVOLIO Why dost thou stay?

Exit ROMEO

Enter Citizens, &c

First Citizen Which way ran he that kill’d Mercutio?

Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?

BENVOLIO There lies that Tybalt.

First Citizen Up, sir, go with me;

I charge thee in the princes name, obey.

Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their Wives, and others

PRINCE Where are the vile beginners of this fray?

BENVOLIO O noble prince, I can discover all

The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:

There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,

That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

LADY CAPULET Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother’s child!

O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt

O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true,

For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.

O cousin, cousin!

PRINCE Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?

BENVOLIO Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo’s hand did slay;

Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink

How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal

Your high displeasure: all this uttered

With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow’d,

Could not take truce with the unruly spleen

Of Tybalt 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 agile arm beats 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 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 Tybalt slain.

And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.

This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

LADY CAPULET He is a kinsman to the Montague;

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 slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.

PRINCE Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;

Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?

MONTAGUE Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio’s friend;

His fault concludes but what the law should end,

The life of Tybalt.

PRINCE And for that offence

Immediately we do exile him hence:

I have an interest in your hate’s proceeding,

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