Romeo and Juliet Act 3 Scene 1
A public place. A hot afternoon.
The Original
Plain Modern English
Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, a Page, and Servants.
Benvolio
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.
Benvolio
Please, Mercutio, let's go inside.
It's a hot day, the Capulets are out,
and if we run into them there'll be a fight —
hot weather like this gets the blood boiling.
Mercutio
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.
Mercutio
You're like one of those men who walks
into a tavern, slaps his sword
on the table and says 'God grant I don't
need you tonight!' — and by his second drink he's
drawing it on the waiter for no reason at all.
Benvolio
Am I like such a fellow?
Benvolio
Am I like that?
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.
Mercutio
Oh, come on. You've got as hot a temper as
anyone in Italy — as quick to turn moody as you are
to turn moody about being moody.
Benvolio
And what to?
Benvolio
Moody about what?
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 fun of quarrels as an egg is full of
meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as
an egg for quarrelling: thou hast 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!
Mercutio
If there were two of you, we'd soon have none —
you'd kill each other. You! Why,
you'd pick a fight with a man for having one hair more
or less in his beard than you. You'd
pick a fight with someone for cracking nuts, for no
reason except that you have hazel eyes. What kind of
eye but yours would spot a quarrel in that?
Your head's as full of fights as an egg is full of
yolk — and it's been beaten as scrambled as
an egg from all the fighting. You've picked a fight with a
man for coughing in the street because he
woke up your dog that was sleeping in the sun.
Didn't you fall out with a tailor for wearing
his new jacket before Easter? And another for
tying new shoes with old laces? And YOU'RE
going to lecture me about fighting?
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.
Benvolio
If I picked fights as readily as you do, anyone
could buy my life outright for an hour and a quarter.
Mercutio
The fee-simple! O simple!
Mercutio
Buy it outright! Oh, that's rich.
Benvolio
By my head, here come the Capulets.
Benvolio
Look — here come the Capulets.
Mercutio
By my heel, I care not.
Mercutio
And I couldn't care less.
Enter Tybalt and others.
Tybalt
Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.
Tybalt
Stay close — I'm going to speak to them.
Gentlemen, good afternoon. 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.
Mercutio
Just one word with one of us? Pair it with
something — make it a word and a punch.
Tybalt
You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you
will give me occasion.
Tybalt
You'll find me happy to oblige, sir, if you
give me a reason.
Mercutio
Could you not take some occasion without giving?
Mercutio
Couldn't you find a reason without being handed one?
Tybalt
Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,—
Tybalt
Mercutio, you keep company 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!
Mercutio
'Consort'? What, are we a band of musicians? If you're
making musicians of us, expect nothing but
bad notes. Here's my fiddle-bow — and it'll
make you dance. God's wounds — 'consort'!
Benvolio
We talk here in the public haunt of men:
Either withdraw unto some private place,
And reason coldly of your grievances,
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
Benvolio
We're arguing in a public place.
Either go somewhere private
and discuss your complaints calmly,
or leave. Everyone's staring at us.
Mercutio
Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
Mercutio
Eyes were made for looking — let them stare.
I'm not moving to suit anybody.
Enter Romeo.
Tybalt
Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.
Tybalt
Well, peace be with you, sir — here comes the man I want.
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.'
Mercutio
I'll be hanged, sir, if he's wearing your uniform.
But go ahead to a duelling field and he'll follow you —
in that sense, Your Honour may call him your man.
Tybalt
Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford
No better term than this,—thou art a villain.
Tybalt
Romeo, the hatred I feel for you allows
no better word than this: you're 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 know'st me not.
Romeo
Tybalt, I have a reason to love you
that lets me excuse the rage
a greeting like that deserves. I'm no villain.
So goodbye. Clearly you don't know me at all.
Tybalt
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.
Tybalt
Boy, that doesn't excuse the insults
you've done me. Turn around and draw your sword.
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 my own,—be satisfied.
Romeo
I swear I never insulted you.
I love you more than you could possibly imagine,
until you learn the reason why.
So, good Capulet — a name I now hold
as dear as my own — let it go. (He's just married Tybalt's cousin. Tybalt has no idea.)
Mercutio
O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
Alla stoccata carries it away.
Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?
Mercutio
Oh, what calm, dishonourable, disgusting surrender!
A fencing thrust will settle this.
Tybalt, you rat-catcher — shall we step aside?
Tybalt
What wouldst thou have with me?
Tybalt
What do you want 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, drybeat the rest of the
eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher
by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your
ears ere it be out.
Mercutio
Good King of Cats — nothing but one of your nine
lives. I'll help myself to that one, and depending on how you
treat me afterwards, I'll thrash the other
eight out of you. Will you pull your sword out of its
scabbard? Hurry up, or mine will be about your
ears before yours is even drawn.
Tybalt
I am for you.
Tybalt
I'm ready for you.
Romeo
Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Romeo
Mercutio, please — put your sword away.
Mercutio
Come, sir, your passado.
Mercutio
Come on, sir — let's see your lunge.
They fight.
Romeo
Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath
Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:
Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!
Romeo
Draw your sword, Benvolio — knock their weapons down!
Gentlemen, for shame — stop this!
Tybalt! Mercutio! The Prince has expressly
forbidden fighting in the streets of Verona!
Stop, Tybalt! Mercutio, please!
Tybalt stabs Mercutio under Romeo's arm, then flees with his followers.
Mercutio
I am hurt.
A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
Is he gone, and hath nothing?
Mercutio
I'm hurt.
A plague on both your families! I'm finished.
Has he gone — without a scratch?
Benvolio
What, art thou hurt?
Benvolio
What — you're hurt?
Mercutio
Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.
Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
Mercutio
Yes, yes — a scratch, just a scratch. But it's enough.
Where's my page? Go on, boy — fetch a doctor.
Romeo
Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
Romeo
Take heart, man — the wound can't be that bad.
Mercutio
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.
Mercutio
No, it's not as deep as a well, or as wide as a
church door — but it's enough. It'll do. Ask for
me tomorrow and you'll find me a grave man. (Even dying, he can't resist a pun.) I'm
done for in this world, I promise you. A plague on
both your houses! God's wounds — a dog, a rat, a mouse, a
cat, scratching a man to death! A show-off, a
crook, a villain who fights by the numbers
in a textbook! — Why the devil did you step between us? I
was stabbed under your arm.
Romeo
I thought all for the best.
Romeo
I meant it 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!
Mercutio
Help me inside somewhere, Benvolio,
or I'll faint. A plague on both your houses!
They've turned me into food for worms. I've got it,
and got it properly. 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 kinsman! O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!
Romeo
This gentleman, the Prince's close relative,
my own dear friend, has taken a fatal wound
on my behalf. My name is stained
by Tybalt's insults — Tybalt, who for an hour
has been my own relative! Oh, sweet Juliet,
your beauty has made me soft
and blunted the steel of my courage!
Re-enter Benvolio.
Benvolio
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!
That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Benvolio
Romeo, Romeo — brave Mercutio is dead!
That gallant spirit has risen to the clouds,
far too soon turning its back on the earth.
Romeo
This day's black fate on more days doth depend;
This but begins the woe, others must end.
Romeo
This day's dark fate will hang over days to come.
This only begins the misery — others must finish it.
Benvolio
Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Benvolio
Here comes furious Tybalt again.
Romeo
Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven, respective lenity,
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!
Romeo
Alive and triumphant — and Mercutio dead!
Get back to heaven, thoughtful mercy —
fire-eyed fury is my guide now!
Re-enter Tybalt.
Romeo
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.
Romeo
Now, Tybalt, take back that word 'villain'
you gave me just now. Mercutio's soul
is only a little way above our heads,
waiting for yours to keep him company.
Either you, or I, or both of us must go with him.
Tybalt
Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
Shalt with him hence.
Tybalt
You, wretched boy, who kept him company here,
will go with him.
Romeo
This shall determine that.
Romeo
This will settle that.
They fight. Tybalt falls.
Benvolio
Romeo, away, be gone!
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.
Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death,
If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!
Benvolio
Romeo — go! Run!
The citizens are coming, and Tybalt's dead.
Don't just stand there stunned — the Prince will sentence you to death
if you're caught. Go, go, get out!
Romeo
O, I am fortune's fool!
Romeo
Oh — I'm fate's plaything!
Benvolio
Why dost thou stay?
Benvolio
Why are you still here?
Exit Romeo. Enter Citizens.
First Citizen
Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio?
Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?
First Citizen
Which way did the man who killed Mercutio run?
Tybalt, the murderer — which way did he go?
Benvolio
There lies that Tybalt.
Benvolio
Tybalt is lying right there.
First Citizen
Up, sir, go with me;
I charge thee in the princes name, obey.
First Citizen
Get up, sir, and come with me.
I order you in the Prince's name — obey.
Enter the Prince, attended; Montague, Capulet, their wives, and others.
Prince Escalus
Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
Prince Escalus
Where are the wretches who started this fight?
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.
Benvolio
Noble prince, I can explain everything
about how this deadly brawl unfolded.
There lies the man, killed by young Romeo,
who himself killed your kinsman, brave Mercutio.
Lady Capulet
Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child!
O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt
O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true,
For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.
O cousin, cousin!
Lady Capulet
Tybalt, my nephew! Oh, my brother's child!
Prince! Nephew! Husband! Oh, the blood is spilled
of my dear kinsman! Prince, if you're just,
spill Montague blood for ours.
Oh, nephew, nephew!
Prince Escalus
Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
Prince Escalus
Benvolio, who started this bloody fight?
Benvolio
Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;
Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal
Your high displeasure: all this uttered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,
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 entertain'd 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.
Benvolio
Tybalt did — the man lying dead, killed by Romeo.
Romeo spoke to him politely, asked him to consider
how trivial the quarrel was, and reminded him of
your severe displeasure. All of this said
gently, calmly, with a humble bow —
yet none of it could make peace with the wild temper
of Tybalt, who was deaf to peace. He lunged
with his blade at brave Mercutio's chest,
and Mercutio, just as hot, met point with point,
and with a soldier's contempt beat death aside
with one hand while sending it
back at Tybalt with the other. Tybalt, quick as he is,
returned it. Romeo shouted out,
'Stop, friends! Friends, break it up!' — and faster than
he could speak,
his quick arm knocked down their deadly blades
and he rushed between them. And under his arm
a spiteful thrust from Tybalt struck the life
out of brave Mercutio — and then Tybalt ran.
But soon he came back to Romeo,
who had just then given in to thoughts of revenge,
and they went at each other like lightning. Before I
could draw to separate them, brave Tybalt was dead.
And as he fell, Romeo turned and ran.
That's the truth, or let me die for it.
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.
Lady Capulet
He's a relative of the Montagues.
Loyalty makes him lie — he isn't telling the truth.
About twenty of them fought in this wicked brawl,
and all twenty managed to kill just one man.
I beg for justice, which you, Prince, must give:
Romeo killed Tybalt — Romeo must not live.
Prince Escalus
Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
Prince Escalus
Romeo killed him; he killed Mercutio.
Who now owes the price of that precious blood?
Montague
Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend;
His fault concludes but what the law should end,
The life of Tybalt.
Montague
Not Romeo, Prince — he was Mercutio's friend.
His crime only finished what the law should have ended:
Tybalt's life.
Prince Escalus
And for that offence
Immediately we do exile him hence:
I have an interest in your hate's 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's found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body and attend our will:
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
Prince Escalus
And for that offence
we exile him immediately.
I have a personal stake in your feud now —
my own relative lies bleeding because of your brawling.
But I'll fine you both so heavily
that you'll all regret my loss.
I'll be deaf to pleas and excuses.
Neither tears nor prayers will buy off these crimes,
so don't try. Let Romeo leave at once —
otherwise, the hour he's found is his last.
Carry this body away and await my orders.
Mercy that pardons killers only kills more people.
Exeunt.