Shakespeare's First Folio Part 505

Mer. Come sir, your Pa.s.sado

Rom. Draw Benuolio, beat downe their weapons: Gentlemen, for shame forbeare this outrage, Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince expresly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streetes.

Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio.

Exit Tybalt.

Mer. I am hurt.

A plague a both the Houses, I am sped: Is he gone and hath nothing?

Ben. What art thou hurt?

Mer. I, I, a scratch, a scratch, marry 'tis inough, Where is my Page? go Villaine fetch a Surgeon

Rom. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much

Mer. No: 'tis not so deepe as a well, nor so wide as a Church doore, but 'tis inough, 'twill serue: aske for me to morrow, and you shall find me a graue man. I am pepper'd I warrant, for this world: a plague a both your houses.

What, a Dog, a Rat, a Mouse, a Cat to scratch a man to death: a Braggart, a Rogue, a Villaine, that fights by the booke of Arithmeticke, why the deu'le came you betweene vs? I was hurt vnder your arme

Rom. I thought all for the best

Mer. Helpe me into some house Benuolio, Or I shall faint: a plague a both your houses.

They haue made wormesmeat of me, I haue it, and soundly to your Houses.

Enter.

Rom. This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie, My very Friend hath got his mortall hurt In my behalfe, my reputation stain'd With Tibalts slaunder, Tybalt that an houre Hath beene my Cozin: O Sweet Iuliet, Thy Beauty hath made me Effeminate, And in my temper softned Valours steele.

Enter Benuolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, braue Mercutio's is dead, That Gallant spirit hath aspir'd the Cloudes, Which too vntimely here did scorne the earth

Rom. This daies blacke Fate, on mo daies depend, This but begins, the wo others must end.

Enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the Furious Tybalt backe againe

Rom. He gon in triumph, and Mercutio slaine?

Away to heauen respectiue Lenitie, And fire and Fury, be my conduct now.

Now Tybalt take the Villaine backe againe That late thou gau'st me, for Mercutios soule Is but a little way aboue our heads, Staying for thine to keepe him companie: Either thou or I, or both, must goe with him

Tib. Thou wretched Boy that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence

Rom. This shall determine that.

They fight. Tybalt falles.

Ben. Romeo, away be gone: The Citizens are vp, and Tybalt slaine, Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will Doome thee death If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away

Rom. O! I am Fortunes foole

Ben. Why dost thou stay?

Exit Romeo.

Enter Citizens.

Citi. Which way ran he that kild Mercutio?

Tibalt that Murtherer, which way ran he?

Ben. There lies that Tybalt

Citi. Vp sir go with me: I charge thee in the Princes names obey.

Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their Wiues and all.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this Fray?

Ben. O n.o.ble Prince, I can discouer all The vnluckie Mannage of this fatall brall: There lies the man slaine by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman braue Mercutio

Cap. Wi. Tybalt, my Cozin? O my Brothers Child, O Prince, O Cozin, Husband, O the blood is spild Of my deare kinsman. Prince as thou art true, For bloud of ours, shed bloud of Mountague.

O Cozin, Cozin

Prin. Benuolio, who began this Fray?

Ben. Tybalt here slaine, whom Romeo's hand did slay, Romeo that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke How nice the Quarrell was, and vrg'd withall Your high displeasure: all this vttered, With gentle breath, calme looke, knees humbly bow'd Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene Of Tybalts deafe to peace, but that he Tilts With Peircing steele at bold Mercutio's breast, Who all as hot, turnes deadly point to point, And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand beates 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 then his tongue, His aged arme, beats downe their fatall points, And twixt them rushes, vnderneath whose arme, An enuious thrust from Tybalt, hit the life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled.

But by and by comes backe to Romeo, Who had but newly entertained Reuenge, And too't they goe like lightning, for ere I Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slaine: And as he fell, did Romeo turne and flie: This is the truth, or let Benuolio die

Cap. Wi. He is a kinsman to the Mountague, Affection makes him false, he speakes not true: Some twenty of them fought in this blacke strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life.

I beg for Iustice, which thou Prince must giue: Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not liue

Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio, Who now the price of his deare blood doth owe

Cap. Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutios Friend, His fault concludes, but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt

Prin. And for that offence, Immediately we doe exile him hence: I haue an interest in your hearts proceeding: My bloud for your rude brawles doth lie a bleeding.

But Ile Amerce you with so strong a fine, That you shall all repent the losse of mine.

It will be deafe to pleading and excuses, Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase our abuses.

Therefore vse none, let Romeo hence in hast, Else when he is found, that houre is his last.

Beare hence his body, and attend our will: Mercy not Murders, pardoning those that kill.

Exeunt.

Enter Iuliet alone.

Iul. Gallop apace, you fiery footed steedes, Towards Phoebus lodging, such a Wagoner As Phaeton would whip you to the west, And bring in Cloudie night immediately.

Spred thy close Curtaine Loue-performing night, That run-awayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo Leape to these armes, vntalkt of and vnseene, Louers can see to doe their Amorous rights, And by their owne Beauties: or if Loue be blind, It best agrees with night: come ciuill night, Thou sober suted Matron all in blacke, And learne me how to loose a winning match, Plaid for a paire of stainlesse Maidenhoods, Hood my vnman'd blood bayting in my Cheekes, With thy Blacke mantle, till strange Loue grow bold, Thinke true Loue acted simple modestie: Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night, For thou wilt lie vpon the wings of night Whiter then new Snow vpon a Rauens backe: Come gentle night, come louing blackebrow'd night.

Giue me my Romeo, and when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little starres, And he will make the Face of heauen so fine, That all the world will be in Loue with night, And pay no worship to the Garish Sun.

O I haue bought the Mansion of a Loue, But not possest it, and though I am sold, Not yet enioy'd, so tedious is this day, As is the night before some Festiuall, To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not weare them, O here comes my Nurse: Enter Nurse with cords.

And she brings newes and euery tongue that speaks But Romeos name, speakes heauenly eloquence: Now Nurse, what newes? what hast thou there?

The Cords that Romeo bid thee fetch?

Nur. I, I, the Cords

Iuli. Ay me, what newes?

Why dost thou wring thy hands

Nur. A weladay, hee's dead, hee's dead, We are vndone Lady, we are vndone.