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  • Title: Romeo and Juliet (Romeo: Q2)
  • Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
  • ISBN: 1-55058-299-2

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Roger Apfelbaum
    Peer Reviewed

    Romeo and Juliet (Romeo: Q2)

    Enter Mercutio, Benuolio, and men.
    Ben. I pray thee good Mercutio lets retire,
    The day is hot, the Capels abroad:
    And if we meete we shall not scape a brawle, for now these hot
    1435daies, is the mad blood stirring.
    Mer. Thou art like one of these fellowes, that when he enters
    the confines of a Tauerne, claps me his sword vpon the table,
    and sayes, God send me no need of thee: and by the operation
    of the second cup, draws him on the drawer, when indeed there
    1440is no need.
    Ben. Am I like such a fellow?
    Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Iacke in thy moode as
    any in Italie: and assoone moued to be moodie, and assoone
    moodie to be moued.
    1445Ben. And what too?
    Mer. Nay and there were two such, we should haue none
    shortly, for one would kill the other: thou, why thou wilt
    quarell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire lesse in his
    beard, then thou hast: thou wilt quarell with a man for cracking
    1450Nuts, hauing no other reason, but because thou hast hasel eyes:
    what eye, but such an eye wold spie out such a quarrel? thy head
    is as full of quarelles, as an egge is full of meate, and yet thy
    head hath bene beaten as addle as an egge for quarelling: thou
    hast quareld with a man for coffing in the streete, because hee
    1455hath wakened thy dogge that hath laine asleep in the sun. Didst
    thou not fall out with a taylor for wearing his new doublet be-
    fore Easter, with an other for tying his new shooes with olde ri-
    band, and yet thou wilt tuter me from quarelling?
    Ben. And I were so apt to quarell as thou art, any man should
    buy the fee-simple of my life for an houre and a quarter.
    Mer. The fee-simple, ô simple.
    Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.
    Ben. By my head here comes the Capulets.
    Mer. By my heele I care not.
    Tybalt. Follow me close, for I will speake to them.
    Gentlemen, Good den, a word with one of you.
    1470 Mer. And but one word with one of vs, couple it with some-
    thing, make it a word and a blowe.
    Tib. You shall find me apt inough to that sir, and you wil giue
    me occasion.
    Mercu. Could you not take some occasion without gi-
    Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo.
    Mer. Consort, what doest thou make vs Minstrels? and thou
    make Minstrels of vs, looke to hear nothing but discords: heeres
    my fiddlesticke, heeres that shall make you daunce: zounds con-
    Ben. We talke here in the publike haunt of men:
    Either withdraw vnto some priuate place,
    Or reason coldly of your greeuances:
    Or else depart, here all eyes gaze on vs.
    1485Mer. Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze.
    I will not budge for no mans pleasure I.
    Enter Romeo.
    Tyb. Well peace be with you sir, here comes my man.
    Mer. But ile be hangd sir if he weare your liuerie:
    1490Marrie go before to field, heele be your follower,
    Your worship in that sense may call him man.
    Tyb. Romeo, the loue I beare thee, can affoord
    No better terme then this: thou art a villaine.
    Ro. Tybalt, the reason that I haue to loue thee,
    1495Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
    To such a greeting: villaine am I none.
    Therefore farewell, I see thou knowest me not.
    Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the iniuries
    That thou hast done me, therefore turne and draw.
    1500Ro. I do protest I neuer iniuried thee,
    But loue thee better then thon canst deuise:
    Till thou shalt know the reason of my loue,
    And so good Capulet, which name I tender
    As dearely as mine owne, be satisfied.
    1505Mer. O calme, dishonourable, vile submission:
    Alla stucatho carries it away,
    Tibalt, you ratcatcher, will you walke?
    Tib. What wouldst thou haue with me?
    M. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine liues,
    1510that I meane to make bold withall, and as you shall vse mee
    hereafter drie beate the rest of the eight. Will you plucke your
    sword out of his pilcher by the eares? Make haste, least mine be
    about your eares ere it be out.
    Tib. I am for you.
    1515Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier vp.
    Mer. Come sir, your Passado.
    Rom. Draw Benuolio, beate downe their weapons,
    Gentlemen, for shame forbeare this outrage,
    Tibalt,Mercutio, the Prince expresly hath
    1520Forbid this bandying in Verona streetes,
    Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio.
    Away Tybalt.
    Mer. I am hurt.
    A plague a both houses, I am sped,
    1525Is he gone and hath nothing.
    Ben. What art thou hurt?
    Mer. I, I, a scratch, a scratch, marrie tis inough,
    Where is my Page? go villaine, fetch a Surgion.
    Ro. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much.
    1530 Mer. No tis not so deepe as a well, nor so wide as a Church
    doore, but tis inough, twill serue: aske for me to morrow, and you
    shall finde me a graue man. I am peppered I warrant, for this
    world, a plague a both your houses, sounds a dog, a rat, a mouse,
    a cat, to scratch a man to death: a braggart, a rogue, a villaine,
    1535that fights by the booke of arithmatick, why the deule came you
    betweene vs? I was hurt vnder your arme.
    Ro. I thought all for the best.
    Mer. Helpe me into some house Benuolio,
    1540Or I shall faint, a plague a both your houses.
    They haue made wormes meate of me,
    I haue it, and soundly, to your houses.
    Ro. This Gentleman the Princes neare alie,
    My very friend hath got this mortall hurt
    1545In my behalfe, my reputation staind
    With Tybalts slaunder, Tybalt that an houre
    Hath bene my Cozen, O sweete Iuliet,
    Thy bewtie hath made me effeminate,
    And in my temper softned valours steele.
    Enter Benuolio.
    Ben. O Romeo,Romeo, braue Mercutio is dead,
    That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the Clowdes,
    Which too vntimely here did scorne the earth.
    Ro. This dayes blacke fate, on mo daies doth depēd,
    1555This but begins, the wo others must end.
    Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt backe againe.
    Ro. He gan in triumph and Mercutio slaine,
    Away to heauen, respectiue lenitie,
    1560And fier end furie, be my conduct now,
    Now Tybalt take the villaine backe againe,
    That late thou gauest me, for Mercutios soule
    Is but a little way aboue our heads,
    Staying for thine to keepe him companie:
    1565Either thou or I, or both, must go with him.
    Ty. Thou wretched boy that didst sort him here,
    Shalt with him hence.
    Ro. This shall determine that.
    They Fight. Tibalt falles.
    1570Ben. Romeo, away be gone:
    The Citizens are vp, and Tybalt slaine,
    Stand not amazed, the Prince wil doome thee death,
    If thou art taken, hence be gone away.
    Ro. O I am fortunes foole.
    1575Ben. Why dost thou stay?
    Exit Romeo.
    Enter Citizens.
    Citti. Which way ran he that kild Mercutio?
    Tybalt that mutherer, which way ran he?
    1580Ben. There lies that Tybalt.
    Citi. Vp sir, go with me:
    I charge thee in the Princes name obey.
    Enter Prince, olde Mountague, Capulet,
    their wiues and all.
    1585Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
    Ben. O Noble Prince, I can discouer all:
    The vnluckie mannage of this fatall brall,
    There lies the man slaine by young Romeo,
    That slew thy kisman, braue Mercutio.
    1590 Capu.Wi. Tybalt, my Cozin, O my brothers child,
    O Prince, O Cozen, husband, O the bloud is spild
    Of my deare kisman, Prince as thou art true,
    For bloud of ours, shead bloud of Mountague.
    O Cozin, Cozin.
    1595Prin. Benuolio, who began this bloudie fray?
    Ben. Tybalt here slain, whom Romeos hand did slay,
    Romeo that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke
    How nice the quarell was, and vrgd withall
    Your high displeasure all this vttered,
    1600With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowed
    Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene
    Of Tybalt deafe to peace, but that he tilts
    With piercing steele at bold Mercutios breast,
    Who all as hot, turnes deadly poynt to poynt,
    1605And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand beates
    Cold death aside, and with the other sends
    It backe to Tybalt, whose dexteritie
    Retorts it, Romeo he cries aloud,
    Hold friends, friends part, and swifter then his tongue,
    1610His aged arme beates downe their fatall poynts,
    And twixt them rushes, vnderneath whose arme,
    An enuious thrust from Tybalt, hit the life
    Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled,
    But by and by comes backe to Romeo,
    1615Who had but newly entertaind reuenge,
    And toote they go like lightning, for ere I
    Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slaine:
    And as he fell, did Romeo turne and flie,
    This is the truth, or let Benuolio die.
    1620Ca.Wi. He is a kisman to the Mountague,
    Affection makes him false, he speakes not true:
    Some twentie of them fought in this blacke strife,
    And all those twentie could but kill one life.
    I beg for Iustice which thou Prince must giue:
    1625Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not liue.
    Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio,
    Who now the price of his deare bloud doth owe.
    Capu. Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutios friend,
    His fault concludes, but what the law should end,
    1630The life of Tybalt.
    Prin. And for that offence,
    Immediately we do exile him hence:
    I haue an interest in your hearts proceeding:
    My bloud for your rude brawles doth lie a bleeding.
    1635But ile amerce you with so strong a fine,
    That you shall all repent the losse of mine.
    It will be deafe to pleading and excuses,
    Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase out abuses.
    Therefore vse none, let Romeo hence in hast,
    1640Else when he is found, that houre is his last.
    Beare hence this body, and attend our will,
    Mercie but murders, pardoning those that kill.