Part, fools! Put up your swords. You know not what you do.
Draw if you be men.-Gregory, remember thy washing blow.
I do but keep the peace. Put up thy sword, or manage it to part these men with me.
What art thou drawn amoung these heartless hinds? Turn thee, Benvolio; look upon thy death.
A conflict begins between the houses of Capulet and Montague.
My sword, I say. Old Montague is come And flourishises his blade in spite of me.
Thou villian Capulet!-Hold me not; let me go.
A sword fight begins. People from both houses join the fray. Benvolio and Tybalt arrived quickly.
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,That quench the fire of your pernicious rageWith purple fountains issuing from your veins,On pain of torture, from those bloody handsThrow your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,And hear the sentence of your moved prince.Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,And made Verona's ancient citizensCast by their grave beseeming ornaments,To wield old partisans, in hands as old,Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:If ever you disturb our streets again,Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.For this time, all the rest depart away:You Capulet; shall go along with me:And, Montague, come you this afternoon,To know our further pleasure in this case,To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
Tybalt draws his sword and faces Benvolio. Benvolio tries to keep the peace.
See where he comes. So please you, step aside. I'll know his grivance or be much denied.
Capulet and Montague enter and see what is amiss. They begin yelling insults.
The Prince enters and makes quick work of stopping the fight.