_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, 110 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 cousin!--O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate, And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!
_Benvolio._ O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, 120 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 gav'st me! for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, 130 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 amaz'd; the prince will doom thee death If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away!
_Benvolio._ Why dost thou stay? [_Exit Romeo._
_1 Citizen._ Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? 140 Tybalt, that murtherer, which way ran he?
_1 Citizen._ Up, sir, go with me; I charge thee in the prince's 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 150 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?