Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

Mer. 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 full 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 ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

Ben. 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.

Mer. The fee-simple? O simple!

Enter TYBALT, and others.

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.
Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple
it with something; make it a word and a blow.
Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, if
you will give me occasion."
[giving
Mer. Could you not take some occasion without
Tyb. Mercutio, thon consort'st with Romeo,-
Mer. Consort! what, dost thou make us min-
strels? 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!

Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men:
Either withdraw into some private place,
Or reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of
the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his
pilcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about
your ears ere it be out.
Tyb. I am for you.
(Drawing.)
Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mer. Come, sir, your passado. (They fight.)
Rom. Draw, Benvolio;

Beat down their weapons:-Gentlemen, for shame,
Forbear this outrage;-Tybalt-Mercutio-
The prince expressly hath forbid this bandying
In Verona streets:-hold, Tybalt ;-good Mercutio.
[Exeunt Tybalt and his Partizans,

Mer. I am hurt;

:

A plague o' both the 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.-

Where is my page?-Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
[Exit Page.

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: 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 burt 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!
[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 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.

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;

Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let This but begins the woe, others must end.

them gaze;

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

my man.

Enter ROMEO.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir! here comes [livery: Mer. But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; Your worship, in that sense, may call him-man.

Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford
No better term than this-Thou art a villain.

Rom. 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.
Tyb. 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,
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:
And so, good Capulet,-which name I tender
As dearly as mine own,-be satisfied.

Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
A la stoccata carries it away.-
Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

(Draws.)

Tyb. 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, and,

Re-enter TYBALT.

Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Rom. Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven, respective lenity,
And fire-eyed 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.
[here,
Rom.
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? [Exit Romeo.

Enter Citizens, &c.

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, CAPULET, |
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
child!

Unhappy sight! ah me, the blood is spill'd
Of my dear kinsman!-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
slay;

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
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
[tongue,
Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,
Hold, friends! friends, part! 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
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.

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
friend;

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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Room in Capulet's House.
Enter JULIET.

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 strangelove, 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.-
Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd
night,

Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die,
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.-
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possess'd it; and, though I am sold,
Not yet enjoy'd: So tedious is this day,
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child, that hath new robes,
And may not wear them. O, here comes my surR,
Enter Nurse, with cords.

And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks
But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence-
Now, nurse,
what news? What hast thou there! the
That Romeo bade thee fetch?
Nurse.

[cards, Ay, ay, the cords. (Throws them down.}

Jul. Ah me! what news? why dost thou wing

thy hands?

[dead!

Nurse. Ah well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's
We are undone, lady, we are undone !—
Alack the day!-he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!
Jul. Can heaven be so envious?
Nurse.

Romeo cas,

Though heaven cannot :-O Romeo, Romeo!-
Who ever would have thought it?-Romeo!
Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment ma

Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,-
God save the mark!-here on his manly breast:
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood,
All in gore blood;-I swooned at the sight.
Jul. O break, my heart!-poor bankrupt, break
To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty!

at once!

Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;
And thou, and Romeo, press one heavy bier!
Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
That ever I should live to see thee dead!

Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary!
Is Romeo slaughter'd; and is Tybalt dead?
My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord?-
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!
For who is living, if those two are gone?

Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banish'd;
Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.
Jul. O God!-did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's

blood?

Nurse. It did, it did; alas the day! it did.
Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
Beautiful tyrant, fiend angelical!
Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!
Despised substance of divinest shew!
Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,

A damned saint, an honourable villain!—

When I, thy three-hours' wife, have mangled it?
But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband:
" Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;
Your tributary drops belong to woe,
Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.

My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my hus-
band:

All this is comfort; Wherefore weep I then?
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
That murder'd me: I would forget it fain;
But, O! it presses to my memory,
Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo-banished;
That-banished, that one word-banished,
Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
Was woe enough, if it had ended there:
Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship,
And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,-
Why follow'd not, when she said-Tybalt's dead,
Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
Which modern lamentation might have mov'd?
But, with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
Romeo is banished,-to speak that word,
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All slain, all dead:-Romeo is banished,-
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,

In that word's death; no words can that woe
sound.-

Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?

Nurse. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse:
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? mine
shall be spent,

When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Take up those cords:-Poor ropes, you are beguil'd,
Both you and I; for Romeo is exil'd:
He made you for a highway to my bed:
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
Come, cords; come, nurse; I'll to my wedding bed;
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!

Nurse. Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo
To comfort you:-I wot well where he is.
Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night;
I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.

Jul. O find him! give this ring to my true knight,
And bid him come to take his last farewell. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Friar Laurence's Cell.
Enter Friar LAURENCE and ROMEO.
Fri. Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful

Too familiar

Is my dear son with such sour company:
I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
Rom. What less than dooms-day is the prince's
doom?

Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
Not body's death, but body's banishment.

Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say-death:
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death: do not say-banishment.
Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished:
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Rom. There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
And world's exile is death :-then banishment
Is death mis-term'd calling death-banishment,
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.

Fri. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

Rom. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is
here,

Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog,
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven, and may look on her,
But Romeo may not.-More validity,
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies, than Romeo: they may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal blessing from her lips;
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty,
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
But Romeo may not; he is banished:
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly:
They are free men, but I am banished.
And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death?
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
But-banished-to kill me; banished?

O friar, the damned use that word in hell;
Howlings attend it: How hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,

A sin-absolver, and a friend profess'd,
To mangle me with that word-banishment?
Fri. Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a

word.

Rom. O thou wilt speak again of banishment.
Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

Rom. Yet banished?-hang up philosophy!
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom;
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more.

Fri. O, then I see, that madmen have no ears.
Rom. How should they, when that wise men
have no eyes?

Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost
not feel:

Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me banished,
Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear
thy hair,

And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
Fri. Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thy-
self.
(Knocking within.)
Rom. Not I; unless the breath of heart-sick
groans,
Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.
(Knocking.)