« PreviousContinue »
a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetick!— Why, the devil, came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.
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 worm's meat of me:
I have it, and soundly too:—Your houses 1
[Ereunt Mercutio and Benvolio.
Rom. 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.
Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead; That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. Rom. This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.
Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. Rom. Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity,
And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now !—
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'st 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.
Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him
Shalt with him hence.
Itom. This shall determine that.
- - [They fight; Tybalt falls.
Ben. Romeo, away, be gone
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain:—
Stand not amaz'd:—the prince will doom thee death,
If thou art taken:—hence!—be gone !—away!
Rom. O' I am fortune's fool |
Ben. Why dost thou stay?
1 Cit. Which way ran he, that kill'd Mercutio Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?
Ben. There lies that Tybalt.
1 Cit. Up, sir, go with me; I charge thee in the prince's name, obey.
Enter Prince, attended; MonTAGue, CAPU LET, their Wives, and Others.
Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? Ben. 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.
La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin!—O my brother's
Unhappy sight! ah me, the blood is spill'd
Of my dear kinsman l—Prince, as thou art true,
For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.—
O cousin, cousin .
Prin, Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did
Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal
Your high displeasure:—All this—uttered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly
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 1 and, swifter than his
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
Couki 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.
La. Cap. 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.
Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe:
Mon. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio’s
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 hates' proceeding,
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding;
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine,
That 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 haste,
Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body, and attend our will:
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. [Ereunt.
A Room in Capulet's House.
Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus' 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-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen!– Lovers can see to do their amorous 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, Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks, With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, Think true love acted, simple modesty. Come, night!—Come, Romeo! come, thou day in night! For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.