Rom.
This Gentleman, the Prince's near allie,
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 softned valour's steel. 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 does depend;
This but begins the woe, others must end. Enter Tybalt.

Ben.
Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

Rom.
Alive? in Triumph? and Mercutio slain?
Away to heav'n, 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:
Or 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, begone:
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.

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