Act 3

Scene I

A public place.

	Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, Page, and Servants.
Benvolio	I pray thee, good Mercutio, let’s retire: The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl; For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
Mercutio	Thou art like one of those fellows that when he enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword upon the table and says “God send me no need of thee!” and by the operation of the second cup draws it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.
Benvolio	Am I like such a fellow?
Mercutio	Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.
Benvolio	And what to?
Mercutio	Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!
Benvolio	An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.
Mercutio	The fee-simple! O simple!
Benvolio	By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mercutio	By my heel, I care not.
	Enter Tybalt* and others.*
Tybalt	Follow me close, for I will speak to them. Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.
Mercutio	And but one word with one of us? couple it with something; make it a word and a blow.
Tybalt	You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion.
Mercutio	Could you not take some occasion without giving?
Tybalt	Mercutio, thou consort’st with Romeo⁠—
Mercutio	Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here’s my fiddlestick; here’s that shall make you dance. ’Zounds, consort!
Benvolio	We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw unto some private place, And reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
Mercutio	Men’s eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man’s pleasure, I.
	Enter Romeo.
Tybalt	Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.
Mercutio	But I’ll be hang’d, sir, if he wear your livery: Marry, go before to field, he’ll be your follower; Your worship in that sense may call him “man.”
Tybalt	Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford No better term than this⁠—thou art a villain.
Romeo	Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting: villain am I none; Therefore farewell; I see thou know’st me not.
Tybalt	Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.
Romeo	I do protest, I never injured thee, But love thee better than thou canst devise, Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: And so, good Capulet⁠—which name I tender As dearly as my own⁠—be satisfied.
Mercutio	O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! Alla stoccata carries it away. Draws. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?
Tybalt	What wouldst thou have with me?
Mercutio	Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.
Tybalt	I am for you. Drawing.
Romeo	Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mercutio	Come, sir, your passado. They fight.
Romeo	Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streets: Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio! Tybalt under Romeo’s arm stabs Mercutio, and flies with his followers.
Mercutio	I am hurt. A plague o’ both your houses! I am sped. Is he gone, and hath nothing?
Benvolio	What, art thou hurt?
Mercutio	Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, ’tis enough. Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. Exit Page.
Romeo	Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
Mercutio	No, ’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but ’tis enough, ’twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o’ both your houses! ’Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.
Romeo	I thought all for the best.
Mercutio	Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint. A plague o’ both your houses! They have made worms’ meat of me: I have it, And soundly too: your houses! Exeunt Mercutio* and Benvolio.*
Romeo	This gentleman, the prince’s near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain’d With Tybalt’s slander⁠—Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper soften’d valour’s steel!
	Reenter Benvolio.
Benvolio	O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead! That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Romeo	This day’s black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe others must end.
Benvolio	Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Romeo	Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!
	Reenter Tybalt.
	Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio’s soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
Tybalt	Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence.
Romeo	This shall determine that. They fight; Tybalt* falls.*
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? Exit Romeo.
	Enter Citizens, etc.
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.
	Enter Prince, attended; Montague, Capulet, their Wives, and others.
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 Of 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. Exeunt.