Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy death.


BENVOLIO.

I do but keep the peace, put up thy sword,

Or manage it to part these men with me.


TYBALT.

What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word

As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:

Have at thee, coward.


 [They fight.]
 Enter three or four Citizens

with clubs.
FIRST CITIZEN.

Clubs, bills and partisans! Strike! Beat them down!

Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues!


 Enter Capulet in his gown,

and Lady Capulet.
CAPULET.

What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!


LADY CAPULET.

A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword?


CAPULET.

My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,

And flourishes his blade in spite of me.


 Enter Montague and his

Lady Montague.
MONTAGUE.

Thou villain Capulet! Hold me not, let me go.


LADY MONTAGUE.

Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.


 Enter Prince Escalus, with

Attendants.
PRINCE.

Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,

Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,—

Will they not hear? What, ho! You men, you beasts,

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage

With purple fountains issuing from your veins,

On pain of torture, from those bloody hands

Throw your mistemper’d weapons to the ground

And hear the sentence of your moved prince.

Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,

By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,

Have thrice disturb’d the quiet of our streets,

And made Verona’s ancient citizens

Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,

To wield old partisans, in hands as old,

Canker’d with peace, to part your canker’d hate.

If ever you disturb our streets again,

Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

For this time all the rest depart away:

You, Capulet, shall go along with me,

And Montague, come you this afternoon,

To know our farther pleasure in this case,

To old Free-town, our common judgement-place.

Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.