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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
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.
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.
(MERCUTIO and TIBALT fight.
Mer. I am hurt-
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 oʻ both your;
houses ! [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BenVOLIO
Rom. Alive ? in triumph ? and Mercutio slain? Away to Heav'n respective lenity, And fire ey'd fury be my conduct now!
(They fight, and TIBALT falls.
Rom. Oh! I am fortune's fool. [Exit Romeo.
Enter Prince, MONTAGUE, CAPULET, CITIZENS, &c.
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
Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montagues,
Prince. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio ; Who now the price of his dear blood doch owe?
Mon. Romeo but took the forfeit life of Tibalt.
Prince. And we, for that offence, do banish him.
you shall all repent my loss in him,
An Apartment in CAPULET'S House.
Enter JULIET alone. Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery footed steeds, To Phæbus' 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 tine, 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