Alas, that love, so gentle in his views, should be so tyrannical and rough in proof!
I pray thee, good Mercutio, let’s retire. The day is hot, the Capels are abroad. And if we meet we shall not ‘scape a brawl, for now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
I do but keep the peace. Put up thy sword, or manage it to part these men with me.
What sadness lengthens Romeo?s hours?
And if we meet we shall not scape a brawl, for now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
Here were the servants of your adversary and yours, close fighting ere I did approach.
O noble prince, I can discover all the unlucky manage of this fatal brawl. There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, that slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
I aim’d so near, when their stars that were my glory.
Compare her face with some that I shall show, and I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
Many a morning hath he been seen. With tears augmenting the morning?s dew, adding clouds more clouds with his deep sighs.
I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword, or manage it to part these men with me. – Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Scene 1
Blind is his love and best befits the dark. – Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 1
Here were the servants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting ere I did approach. – Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Scene 1
I pray thee, good Mercutio, let’s retire: The day is hot, the Capels are abroad, And, if we meet, we shall not escape a brawl. – Romeo and Juliet, Act 3, Scene 1
Marry, that ‘marry’ is the very theme, I came to talk of. – Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Scene 1
Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! – Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 1
Why, Romeo, art thou mad? – Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Scene 1
O noble prince, I can discover all, The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl. – Romeo and Juliet, Act 3, Scene 1
Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo’s hand did slay. – Romeo and Juliet, Act 3, Scene 1
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him, To be a virtuous and well-governed youth. – Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Scene 1
I pray thee, good Mercutio, let’s retire. The day is hot, the Capels are abroad, And, if we meet, we shall not ‘scape a brawl, For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
Here were the servants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting ere I did approach, I drew to part them: in the instant came the fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar’d.
O noble prince, I can discover all the unlucky manage of this fatal brawl. There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
Tut, man, one fire burns out another’s burning; One pain is lessened by another’s anguish; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another’s languish.
I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me.
Am I like such a fellow? Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.
And so, good Capulet, – which name I tender as dearly as my own, – be satisfied.
Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
The prince will doom thee death, if thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away!
Part, fools: put up your swords; you know not what you do.
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