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

Tyb. I am apt enough to that if I haue occafion.

Mer. Could you not take occafion?

Tyb. Mercutio thou conforts with Romeo?

Mer. Confort, zwounes confort? the flaue wil make fidlers of vs. If you doe firra, look for nothing but difcord: 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 fence your worship may call him man.

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

Rom. Tybalt the loue I beare to thee, doth excufe the appertaining rage to fuch a word: villaine am I none, therfore I well perceiue thou knowft me not.

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

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

Mer. O difhonorable vile fubmiffion.

Allaftockado caries it

away. You ratcatcher, come backe, come backe.

Tyb. What wouldeft with me?

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

Rom. Stay Tibalt, hould Mercutio: Benuolio beate downe their weapons.

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Tibalt under Romeos arme thrusts Mercutio, in and flyes.

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 fo deepe as a well, nor fo wide as a barne doore, but it will ferue 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 dreft. Sirra goe fetch me a furgeon.

Boy. I goe my lord.

Mer, I am pepperd for this world, I am fped yfaith, he hath made wormes meate of me, and ye aske for me to morrow you fhall find me a graue-man. A poxe of your houses, I fhall be fairely mounted vpon foure-mens fhoulders: For your houfe of the Mountegues and the Capelets: and then fome peafantly rogue, fome fexton, fome base flaue shall write my epitapth, that Tybalt came and broke the princes lawes, and Mercutio was flaine for the first and fecond caufe. Wher's the furgeon?

Boy. Hee's come fir.

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


Rom. This gentleman the princes neere alie.
My very friend hath tane this mortall wound
In my behalfe, my reputation ftaind

With Tibalts flaunder, Tybalt that an houre
Hath beene my kinfman. Ah Iuliet
Thy beautie makes me thus effeminate,

And in my temper foftens valors steele.



Enter Benuolio.

Ben. Ah Romeo Romeo braue Mercutio is dead, That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the cloudes,

Which too vntimely fcornd 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 flaine?

Away to heauen refpectiue lenity :

And fier eyed fury be my conduct now.

Now Tibalt take the villaine backe againe,

Which late thou gau'ft me: for Mercutios foule,
Is but a little way aboue the cloudes,

And ftaies for thine to beare him company.

Or thou, or I, or both fhall follow him.

Fight, Tibalt falles.

Ben. Romeo away, thou feeft that Tibalt's flaine,

The citizens approach, away, begone

Thou wilt be taken.

Rom. Ah I am fortunes flaue.


Enter Citizens.

Watch. Wher's he that flue 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 flaine by yong Romeo,
That flew thy kinfman braue Mercutio,

M. Tibalt, Tybalt, O my brothers child,
Vnhappie fight? Ah the blood is fpilt
Of my deare kinfman, prince as thou art true:
For blood of ours, fhed bloud of Mountagew.

Pry. Speake Benuolio who began this fray?
Ben. Tibalt heere flaine whom Romeos hand did slay.
Romeo who fpake him fayre bid him bethinke
How nice the quarrell was.

But Tibalt still perfifting in his wrong,

The ftout Mercutio drewe to calme the storme,
Which Romeo feeing cal'd 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 ftout Mercutio.
With that he fled, but prefently 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 Romeo fled.

Mo. He is a Mountagew and speakes partiall, Some twentie of them fought in this blacke ftrife: And all thofe twenty could but kill one life.

I doo intreate sweete prince thoult iuftice giue,
Romeo flew Tybalt, Romeo may not liue.

Prin. And for that offence

Immediately we doo exile him hence.

I have 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 fhall all repent the loffe 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.

Enter Iuliet.

Exeunt omnes.

Iul. Gallop apace you fierie footed steedes

To Phœbus manfion, fuch a waggoner

As Phaeton, would quickly bring you thether,

And fend in cloudie night immediately.

Enter Nurfe wringing her hands, with the ladder of cordes in her lap.

But how now nurfe: O Lord, why lookft thou fad ?

What haft 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 ?
Nurf. Alack the day, hees dead, hees dead, hees dead,
Jul. This torture should be roard in dismall hell.
Can heauens be fo enuious?

Nur. Romeo can if heauens cannot.

I saw the wound, I faw it with mine eyes.
God faue the fample, on his manly breast :
A bloodie coarfe, a piteous bloodie coarse,
All pale as afhes, I fwounded at the fight.

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


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