Act 3

Benvolio

I pray thee, good Mercutio, let’s retire.

The day is hot, the Capels are 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 these 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 him 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 quarreling. Thou hast

quarreled 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 ribbon?

And yet thou wilt tutor me from quarreling?

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 comes the Capulets.

Mercutio By my heel, I care not.

Tybalt [to his companions]

Follow me close, for I will speak to them.–

Gentlemen, good e’en. 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 consortest 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,

Or 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.

Tybalt

Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man.

Mercutio

But I’ll be hanged, 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 love 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 knowest 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 mine own, be satisfied.

Mercutio

O calm, dishonorable, vile submission!

Alla stoccato carries it away. [He draws.]

Tybalt, you ratcatcher, 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. [He draws.]

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

Forbid this bandying in Verona streets.

Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio!

Petruchio Away, Tybalt!

Mercutio I am hurt.

A plague o’ both 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.

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 tomorrow, 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!

Romeo

This gentleman, the Prince’s near ally,

My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt

In my behalf. My reputation stained

With Tybalt’s slander–Tybalt, that an hour

Hath been my cousin! O sweet Juliet,

Thy beauty hath made me effeminate

And in my temper softened valor’s steel.

Benvolio

O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio is 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.–

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.

Benvolio

Romeo, away, begone!

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?

Citizen

Which way ran he that killed Mercutio?

Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?

Benvolio

There lies that Tybalt.

Citizen [to Tybalt] Up, sir, go with me.

I charge thee in the Prince’s name, obey.

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 spilled

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, bid him bethink

How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal

Your high displeasure. All this uttered

With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowed

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 entertained 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 offense

Immediately we do exile him hence.

I have an interest in your hearts’ 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 is found, that hour is his last.

Bear hence this body and attend our will.

Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.