SCENE VI. Friar Laurence's Cell.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO.

Fri. So smile the heavens upon this holy act, That after-hours with sorrow chide us not!

Rom. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine.

Fri. These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumph die! like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume: The sweetest
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, [honey
And in the taste confounds the appetite:
Therefore, love moderately: long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
Enter JULIET.

Here comes the lady :-O, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
A lover may bestride the gossomers
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.
Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor.
Fri. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for
us both.
[much.
Jul. As much to him, else are his thanks too
Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine, aud that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich musick's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,

Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to such excess,
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make
short work;

For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
Till holy church incorporate two in one.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. A public Place.

Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants. Ben. 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.

Mer. 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.

Ben. Am I like such a fellow?

Mer. 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. Ben. And what to?

Mer. 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 bast 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!

Ben. 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.

Mer. The fee simple? O simple!

Enter TYBALT, and Others.

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.

Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to

them.

Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, if you will give me occasion.

Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving?

Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo,Mer. 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!

Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw into some private place, Or reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;

I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Enter ROMEO.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir! here comes

my man.

Mer. 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.
Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bare thee can afford
No better term than this-Thou art a villain.
Rom. 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.
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and
draw.

Rom. 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.

[Draws.

Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! A la stoccata carries it away. Tybalt, you rat catcher, will you walk? Tyb. What would'st thou have with me?

Mer. 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, drybeat 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. Tyb. I am for you. [Drawing. Rom, Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, sir, your passado. [They fight. Rom. 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 Mer-
cutio. [Exeunt TYBALT and his Partisans.
Mer. I am hurt;-

A plague o' both the houses!-I am sped :-
Is he gone, and hath nothing?

Ben.
What, art-thou hurt?
Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis

enough.Where is my page?-go, villain, fetch a surgeon. [Exit Page.

Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mer. 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.

Rom. I thought all for the best.

Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint.-A plague o' both your houses! They have made worm's meat of me :

I have it, and soundly too :-Your houses! [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO. Rom. 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.
Re-enter BENVOLIO.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead;

That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. Rom. This day's black fate on more days doth depend;

This but begins the woe, others must end.

Re-enter TYBALT.

Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

Rom, Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio slain ! Away to heaven, respective lenity,

And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now!-
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'st 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.
Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort
him here,

Shalt with him hence.

Rom.

This shall determine that. [They fight; TYBALT falls.

Ben. Romeo, away, be gone!

The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain :

Stand not amaz'd:-the prince will doom thee

death,

If thou art taken :-hence!-be gone!-away! Rom. O! I am fortune's fool!

Ben.

Why dost thou stay? [Exit ROMEO.

Enter Citizens, &c.

1 Cit. Which way ran he, that kill'd Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? Ben. There lies that Tybalt.

1 Cit.

Up, sir, go with me; I charge thee in the prince's name, obey.