Enter ROMEO.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir! here comes

my man.

Mer. 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.
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. [Draws. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk ? 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, 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.

Mer. Come, sir, your passado.

[They fight.

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

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. [Erit 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 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!

[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

4

depend; *

This but begins the woe, others must end.

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-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

here,

Shalt with him hence.

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!

4 This day's black fate on more days doth depend;] This day's unhappy destiny hangs over the days yet to come. There will yet be more mischief.

5

- respective lenity,] Cool, considerate gentleness.

6 be my conduct now!] Conduct for conductor.

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

7

- as thou art true,] As thou art just and upright.

8 How nice-] How slight, how unimportant, how petty.

:

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 light'ning; 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.

• Affection makes him false,] The charge of falsehood on Benvolio, though produced at hazard, is very just. The author, who seems to intend the character of Benvolio as good, meant perhaps to show, how the best minds, in a state of faction and discord, are detorted to criminal partiality. JOHNSON.