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BENVOLIO:
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Romeo, away, be gone!
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The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.
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Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death,
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If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!
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ROMEO:
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O, I am fortune's fool!
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BENVOLIO:
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Why dost thou stay?
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First Citizen:
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Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio?
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Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?
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BENVOLIO:
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There lies that Tybalt.
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First Citizen:
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Up, sir, go with me;
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I charge thee in the princes name, obey.
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PRINCE:
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Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
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BENVOLIO:
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O noble prince, I can discover all
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The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:
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There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
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That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
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LADY CAPULET:
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Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child!
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O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt
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O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true,
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For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.
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O cousin, cousin!
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PRINCE:
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Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
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BENVOLIO:
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Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;
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Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
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How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal
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Your high displeasure: all this uttered
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With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,
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Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
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Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
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With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast,
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Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
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And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
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Cold death aside, and with the other sends
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It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity,
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Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,
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'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than
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his tongue,
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His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
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And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm
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An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
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Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled;
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But by and by comes back to Romeo,
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Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
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And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I
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Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain.
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And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.
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This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.
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LADY CAPULET:
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He is a kinsman to the Montague;
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Affection makes him false; he speaks not true:
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Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
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And all those twenty could but kill one life.
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I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
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Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
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PRINCE:
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Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
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Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
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MONTAGUE:
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Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend;
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His fault concludes but what the law should end,
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The life of Tybalt.
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PRINCE:
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And for that offence
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Immediately we do exile him hence:
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I have an interest in your hate's proceeding,
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My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding;
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But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine
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That you shall all repent the loss of mine:
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I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;
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Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses:
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Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste,
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Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
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Bear hence this body and attend our will:
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Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
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