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!
I am hurt. A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence.
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.
This shall determine that.
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
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!