what, art thou drawn amoung these heartless hinds? turn thee benvolio.
peace? i hate the word as i hate hell, all montagues, and.
look upon thy death, benvolio.
what, dares the slave come hither to fleer and scorn at our solemnity? now by the stock and honor of my
uncle, this is that villain romeo. a montague, our foe.
'tis he.
i'll not endure him.
i will withdraw. but this intrusion shall, now seeming sweet, convert to bitterest gall.
gentlemen, good day. a word with one of you.
mercutio, thou consortest with romeo.
well sir, here comes my man.
romeo, the love i bear thee can
thou art a villain!
boy, this shall not excuse the
what wouldst thou have with me?
i am for you.
thou, wretched boy, shalt with him hence.
deaf to peace!