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Fair Mercutio is slain by the hands of Tybalt, and Tybalt by Romeo.
I come bearing terrible news, our dearest Tybalt was slain by the hands of your lover. Will you speak well of him that killed your cousin?
Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? Romeo is to hence in hast, or that hour shall be his last.
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.
Indeed it may.
She's been sad ever since that Montague Romeo was banished. Maybe marrying you could take her mind off him.
Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day.
Yes, I must, farewell my dear maiden.
But I can't!
You will marry Paris or the Lord will send you to live in the streets!
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