| ACT IIISCENE I | A public place. | |
| | Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants | |
| BENVOLIO | I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: | |
| | The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, | |
| | And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl; | |
| | For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. | 5 |
| MERCUTIO | Thou art like one of those fellows that when he | |
| | enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword | |
| | upon the table and says 'God send me no need of | |
| | thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws | |
| | it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. | 10 |
| BENVOLIO | Am I like such a fellow? | |
| MERCUTIO | Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as | |
| | any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as | |
| | soon moody to be moved. | |
| BENVOLIO | And what to? | 15 |
| 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 | 20 |
| | 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 | 25 |
| | 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 | 30 |
| | 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. | 35 |
| 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. | 40 |
| 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 | 45 |
| | 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, | 50 |
| | 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. | 55 |
| 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. | 60 |
| 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 | 65 |
| | 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 | 70 |
| | 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? | 75 |
| 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 | 80 |
| | 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. | 85 |
| | 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 flieswith his followers | |
| MERCUTIO | I am hurt. | 90 |
| | 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. | 95 |
| | 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' | 100 |
| | 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. | 105 |
| 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! | 110 |
| | 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, | 115 |
| | 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. | 120 |
| 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, | 125 |
| | 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: | 130 |
| | 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! | 135 |
| | 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? | 140 |
| | 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. | 145 |
| | Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, theirWives, 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. | 150 |
| 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! | 155 |
| 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 | 160 |
| | 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, | 165 |
| | 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 | 170 |
| | 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; | 175 |
| | 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. | 180 |
| | 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. | 185 |
| | 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; | 190 |
| | 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, | 195 |
| | 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: | 200 |
| | 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. | |
| | Exeunt | |
