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The reason that I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that thou hast done to me; therefore turn and draw.
Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons gentlemen, for shame ! forbear this outrage !
I'm hurt a plague o' both your houses I sped is he gone and hath nothing
This day black fate on more days doth depend; this but begins the woe others must end.
Either thou or I, or both, must go with him.
Thou wrentched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence.
This shall determine that.
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