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Mer. But one word with one of vs ? You had best couple it with somewhat, and make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. I am apt enough to that if I haue occasion.
Mer. Could you not take occasion ?
Tyb. Mercutio thou consorts with Romeo ?

Mer. Confort, zwounes confort ? the Naue wil make fidlers of vs. If you doe sirra, look for nothing but discord : For heeres my fiddle-sticke.

Enter Romeo.

Tyb. Well peace be with you, heere comes my man.

Mer. But Ile be hanged if he weare your lyuery: mary go before into the field, and he may be your follower, fo in that sence your worship may call him man.

Tyb. Romeo the hate I beare to the can affoord no better words then these, thou art a villaine.

Rom. Tybalt the loue I beare to thee, doth excuse the appertaining rage to such a word : villaine am I none, therfore I well perceive thou knowst me not.

Tyb. Bace boy this cannot serue thy turne, and therefore drawe.

Ro. I doe protest I neuer iniured thee, but loue thee better than thou canst deuise, till thou shalt know the reason of

my loue.

Mer. O dishonorable vile submission. · Allafockado caries it away. You ratcatcher, come backe, come backe.

Tyb. What wouldest with me?

Mer. Nothing king of cates, but borrow one of your nine lives, therefore come drawe your rapier out of your fcabard, least mine be about your eares ere you be aware.

Rom. Stay Tibalt, hould Mercutio : Benuolio beate downe

their weapons.



Tibalt vnder Romeos arme thrusts Mercutio, in and Ayes. Mer. Is he gone, hath hee nothing? A poxe on your houses. Rom. What art thou hurt man, the wound is not deepe.

Mer. Noe not so deepe as a well, nor so wide as a barne doore, but it will serue I warrant. What meant you to come betweene vs ? I was hurt vnder your arme.

Rom. I did all for the best.

Mer. A poxe of your houses, I am fairely drest. Sirra goe fetch me a surgeon.

Boy. I goe my lord,

Mer, I am pepperd for this world, I am sped yfaith, he hath made wormes meate of me, and ye aske for me to morrow you shall find me a graue-man. A poxe of your houses, I Mall be fairely mounted vpon foure-mens shoulders : For your house of the Mountegues and the Capolets : and then some peasantly rogue, some sexton, some base Naue shall write my epitapth, that Tybalt came and broke the princes lawes, and Mercutio was Naine for the first and second cause. Wher's the surgeon ?

Boy. Hee's come fir.

Mler. Now heele keepe a mumbling in my guts on the other side, come Benuolio, lend me thy hand : a poxe of your houses.

Exeunt. Rom. This gentleman the princes neere alie. My very friend hath tane this mortall wound In my behalfe, my reputation staind With Tibalts flaunder, Tybalt that an houre Hath beene my kinsman. Ah Iuliet Thy beautie makes me thus effeminate, And in my temper foftens valors steele.

Enter Enter Benuolio.

Ben. Ah Romeo Romeo braue Mercutio is dead, That gallant spirit hath aspir’d the cloudes, Which too vntimely scornd the lowly earth.

Rom. This daies black fate, on more daies doth depend This but begins what other dayes must end.

Enter Tibalt.

Ben. Heere comes the furious Tibalt backe againe.

Rom. A liue in tryumph and Mercutio Naine ?
Away to heauen respective lenity :
And fier eyed fury be my conduct now.
Now Tiba!t take the villaine backe againe,
Which late thou gau'st me: for Mercutios foule,
Is but a little way aboue the cloudes,
And staies for thine to beare him

company. Or thou, or I, or both shall follow him.

Fight, Tibalt falles.
Ben. Romeo away, thou seest that Tibalt's Naine,
The citizens approach, away, begone
Thou wilt be taken.
Rom. Ah I am fortunes llaue.


Enter Citizens.

Watch. Wher's he that alue Mercutio, Tybalt that villaine?
Ben. There is that Tybalt.
Watch. Vp firra goe with vs.

Enter Prince, Capolets wife.
Pry. Where be the vile beginners of this fray?

Ben. Ah noble prince I can discouer all
The most vnlucky mannage of this brawle.


Heere lyes the man slaine by yong Romeo,
That New thy kinsman braue Mercutio,

M. Tibalt, Tybalt, O my brothers child,
Vnhappie sight? Ah the blood is spilt
Of my deare kinsman, prince as thou art true :
For blood of ours, shed bloud of Mountagew.

Pry. Speake Benuolio who began this fray ?

Ben. Tibalt heere Naine whom Romeos hand did Nay.
Romeo who spake him fayre bid him bethinke
How nice the quarrell was.
But Tibalt still persisting in his wrong,
The stout Mercutio drewe to calme the storme,
Which Romeo feeing cald stay gentlemen,
And on me cry'd, who drew to part their strife,
And with his agill arme young Romeo,
As fast as tung cryde peace, fought peace to make.
While they were enterchanging thrusts and blows,
Vnder yong Romeos laboring arme to part,
The furious Tybalt cast an enuious thrust,
That rid the life of stout Mercutio.
With that he fled, but presently return'd,
And with his rapier braued Romeo :
That had but newly entertain'd reuenge.
And ere I could draw forth my rapyer
To part their furie, downe did Tybalt fall,
And this way Romco fled.

Mo. He is a Mountagew and speakes partiall,
Some twentie of them fought in this blacke strife :
And all those twenty could but kill one life.
I doo intreate sweete prince thoult iustice giue,
Romeo New Tybalt, Romeo may not liue.

Prin. And for that offence
Immediately we doo exile him hence.

I hade an interest in your hates proceeding,
My blood for your rude braules doth lye a bleeding.
But Ile amerce you with so large a fine,
That you shall all repent the losse of mine.
I will be deafe to pleading and excuses,
Nor teares nor prayers shall purchase for abuses.
Pittie shall dwell and gouerne with vs still :
Mercie to all but murdrers, pardoning none that kill.

Excunt omnes.

Enter Iuliet.

Iul. Gallop apace you fierie footed steedes
To Phæbus manfion, such a waggoner
As Phaeton, would quickly bring you thether,
And send in cloudie night immediately.

Enter Nurse wringing her hands, with the ladder of cordes in

her lap.

But how now nurse : O Lord, why lookst thou sad ?
What halt thou there, the cordes ?

Nur. I, I, the cordes : alacke we are vndone,
We are vndone, ladie we are vndone.

Iul. What diuell art thou that torments me thus ?
Nurs. Alack the day, hees dead, hees dead, hees dead,

Jul. This torture Mould be roard in dismall hell.
Can heauens be so enuious ?

Nur. Romeo can if heauens cannot.
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes.
God faue the sample, on his manly breast :
A bloodie coarse, a piteous bloodie coarse,
All pale as alhes, I swounded at the sight.

Iul. Ah Romeo, Romeo, what disaster hap
Hath feuerd thee from thy true Juliet ?
Ah why should heauen so much conspire with woe.


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