Part, fools! put up your swords, you know not what you do.
[Beats down their swords.]
Enter Tybalt.
Tybalt
What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy death.
Benvolio
I do but keep the peace, put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.
Tybalt
What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
Have at thee, coward.
[They fight.]
Enter three or four Citizens with clubs.
First citizen
Clubs, bills and partisans! Strike! Beat them down!
Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues!
Enter Capulet in his gown, and Lady Capulet.
Capulet
What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!
Lady Capulet
A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword?
Capulet
My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,
And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
Enter Montague and his Lady Montague.
Montague
Thou villain Capulet! Hold me not, let me go.
Lady Montague
Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.
Enter Prince Escalus, with Attendants.
Prince
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 rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw 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 citizens
Cast 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.