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A plaza in Verona. The heat of the day has intensified and there are ever fewer people out than before. |
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Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants |
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Benvolio |
I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: |
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The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, |
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And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl; |
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For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. |
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Mercutio |
Thou art like one of those fellows that when he |
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enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword |
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upon the table and says 'God send me no need of |
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thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws |
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it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. |
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Benvolio |
Am I like such a fellow? |
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Mercutio |
Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as |
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any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as |
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Mercutio |
Nay, an there were two such, we should have none |
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shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, |
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thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, |
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or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou |
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wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no |
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other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what |
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eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? |
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Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of |
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meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as |
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an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a |
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man for coughing in the street, because he hath |
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wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: |
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didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing |
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his new doublet before Easter? with another, for |
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tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou |
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wilt tutor me from quarrelling! |
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Benvolio |
An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man |
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should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. |
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Mercutio |
The fee-simple! O simple! |
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Benvolio |
By my head, here come the Capulets. |
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Mercutio |
By my heel, I care not. |
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Tybalt |
Follow me close, for I will speak to them. |
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Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. |
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Mercutio |
And but one word with one of us? couple it with |
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something; make it a word and a blow. |
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Tybalt |
You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you |
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Mercutio |
Could you not take some occasion without giving? |
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Tybalt |
Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,-- |
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Mercutio |
Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an |
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thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but |
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discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall |
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make you dance. 'Zounds, consort! |
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Benvolio |
We talk here in the public haunt of men: |
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Either withdraw unto some private place, |
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And reason coldly of your grievances, |
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Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. |
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Mercutio |
Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; |
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I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. |
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Tybalt |
Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man. |
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Mercutio |
But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery: |
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Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; |
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Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.' |
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Tybalt |
Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford |
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No better term than this,--thou art a villain. |
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Romeo |
Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee |
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Doth much excuse the appertaining rage |
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To such a greeting: villain am I none; |
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Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not. |
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Tybalt |
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries |
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That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw. |
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Romeo |
I do protest, I never injured thee, |
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But love thee better than thou canst devise, |
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Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: |
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And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender |
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As dearly as my own,--be satisfied. |
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Mercutio |
O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! |
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Alla stoccata carries it away. |
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Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? |
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Tybalt |
What wouldst thou have with me? |
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Mercutio |
Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine |
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lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you |
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shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the |
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eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher |
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by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your |
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Romeo |
Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. |
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Mercutio |
Come, sir, your passado. |
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Romeo |
Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. |
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Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! |
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Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath |
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Forbidden bandying in Verona streets: |
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Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio! |
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TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies with his followers |
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A plague o' both your houses! I am sped. |
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Is he gone, and hath nothing? |
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Benvolio |
What, art thou hurt? |
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Mercutio |
Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough. |
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Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. |
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Romeo |
Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. |
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Mercutio |
No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a |
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church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for |
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me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I |
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am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' |
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both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a |
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cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a |
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rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of |
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arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I |
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Romeo |
I thought all for the best. |
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Mercutio |
Help me into some house, Benvolio, |
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Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! |
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They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, |
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And soundly too: your houses! |
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Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO |
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Romeo |
This gentleman, the prince's near ally, |
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My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt |
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In my behalf; my reputation stain'd |
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With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour |
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Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, |
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Thy beauty hath made me effeminate |
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And in my temper soften'd valour's steel! |
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Benvolio |
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! |
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That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, |
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Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. |
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Romeo |
This day's black fate on more days doth depend; |
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This but begins the woe, others must end. |
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Benvolio |
Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. |
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Romeo |
Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! |
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Away to heaven, respective lenity, |
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And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! |
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Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, |
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That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul |
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Is but a little way above our heads, |
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Staying for thine to keep him company: |
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Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. |
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Tybalt |
Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, |
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Romeo |
This shall determine that. |
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Benvolio |
Romeo, away, be gone! |
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The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. |
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Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death, |
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If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away! |
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Romeo |
O, I am fortune's fool! |
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Benvolio |
Why dost thou stay? |
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FIRST CITIZEN |
Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? |
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Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? |
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Benvolio |
There lies that Tybalt. |
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FIRST CITIZEN |
Up, sir, go with me; |
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I charge thee in the princes name, obey. |
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Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their Wives, and others |
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Prince |
Where are the vile beginners of this fray? |
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Benvolio |
O noble prince, I can discover all |
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The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: |
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There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, |
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That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. |
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Lady Capulet |
Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child! |
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O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt |
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O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, |
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For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague. |
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Prince |
Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? |
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Benvolio |
Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; |
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Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink |
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How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal |
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Your high displeasure: all this uttered |
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With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, |
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Could not take truce with the unruly spleen |
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Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts |
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With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast, |
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Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point, |
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And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats |
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Cold death aside, and with the other sends |
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It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity, |
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Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, |
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'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than |
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His agile arm beats down their fatal points, |
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And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm |
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An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life |
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Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled; |
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But by and by comes back to Romeo, |
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Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, |
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And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I |
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Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain. |
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And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. |
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This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. |
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Lady Capulet |
He is a kinsman to the Montague; |
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Affection makes him false; he speaks not true: |
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Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, |
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And all those twenty could but kill one life. |
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I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give; |
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Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. |
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Prince |
Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; |
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Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? |
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Montague |
Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend; |
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His fault concludes but what the law should end, |
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Prince |
And for that offence |
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Immediately we do exile him hence: |
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I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, |
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My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; |
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But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine |
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That you shall all repent the loss of mine: |
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I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; |
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Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses: |
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Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, |
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Else, when he's found, that hour is his last. |
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Bear hence this body and attend our will: |
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Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. |
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