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BENVOLIO: |
Romeo, away, be gone! |
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? |
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. |
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. |
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! |
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 |
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, |
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 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. |
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. |
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; |
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, |
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. |
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