Romeo and Juliet Lines

SAMPSON: Draw if you be men — Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. They fight.

BENVOLIO: Part, fools! Drawing his sword. Put up your swords. You know not what you do. Enter Tybalt, drawing his sword.

What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? 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.

What, drawn and talk of peace? I hate the word as I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee. Have at thee, coward! They fight.

ROMEO: O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand and, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight, for I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.

This, by his voice, should be a Montague. — Fetch me my rapier, boy. Page exits. What, dares the slave come hither covered with an antic face To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honor of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.

CAPULET: Why, how now, kinsman? Wherefore storm you so?

Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, A villain that is hither come in spite To scorn at our solemnity this night.

CAPULET: Young Romeo is it?

‘Tis he, that villain Romeo.

CAPULET: Content thee, gentle coz. Let him alone. I would not for the wealth of all this town Here in my house do him disparagement. Therefore be patient. Take no note of him. It is my will, the which if thou respect, show a fair presence and put off these frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

It fits when such a villain is a guest. I’ll not endure him.

CAPULET: He shall be endured. What, goodman boy? I say he shall. Go to. Am I the master here or you? Go to. You’ll not endure him! God shall mend my soul, You’ll make a mutiny among my guests, You will set cock-a-hoop, you’ll be the man!

Why, uncle, ‘tis a shame.

CAPULET: Go to, go to. You are a saucy boy. Is’t so indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you. I know what. You must contrary me. Marry, ‘tis time — Well said, my hearts. — You are a princox, go. Be quiet, or — More light, more light! — for shame, I’ll make you quiet. — What, cheerly, my hearts!

Patience perforce with willful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitt’rest gall.

BENVOLIO: By my head, here comes the Capulets.

MERCUTIO: By my heel, I care not.

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.

You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion.

MERCUTIO: Could you not take some occasion without giving?

Mercutio, thou consort’st with Romeo.

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.

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

Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me. Therefore turn and draw.

MERCUTIO: O calm, dihonorable, vile submission! Alla stoccato carries it away. He draws. Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk?

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.

I am for you. He draws.

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.

Thou wretched boy that didst consort him here Shalt with him hence.