PRINCE

Rebellious Subjects, Enemies to peace, Profaners of this Neighbor-stained Steel, Will they not hear? What hoe, 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 Broils, bred of and Ayery word, By thee old Capulet and Montague, Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets, And made Verona is ancient Citizens Cast by their Grave beseeming Ornaments, To wield old Partisans, in hands as old, Cankered with peace, to partly your Cankered 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 Father's pleasure in this case: To old Free-town, our common judgement place: Once more on pain of death, all men depart. Where are the vile beginners of this Fray? Benuolio, who began this Fray? Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio, Who now the price of his deer blood does owe. And for that offence, Immediately we do exile him hence: I have and interest in your hearts proceeding: My blood for your rude brawls does lie a bleeding. But I'll Amerce you with so strong a fine, That you shall all repent the lose of mine. It will be deaf to pleading and excuses, Nor tears, nor prayers shall purchase our abuses. Therefore use none, let Romeo hence in hast, Else when he is found, that hour is his last. Bear hence this body, and attend our will: Mercy not Murders, pardoning those that kill. What misadventure is so early up, That calls our person from our morning's rest? Search, Seek, and know how, this foul murder comes. Look: and thou shalt see. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, Till we can clear these ambiguities, And know their spring, their head, their true descent, And then will I be general of your woes, And led you even to death? mean time forbear, And let mischance be slave to patience, Bring forth the parties of suspicion. Then say at once, what thou dost know in this? We still have known thee for a Holy man. Where's Romeo's man? What can he say to this? Give me the Letter, I will look on it. Where is the Counties Page that raised the Watch? Sirrah, what made your Master in this place? This Letter does make good the Friars words, Their course of Love, the tidings of her death: And here he writes, that he did buy a poison Of a poor Pothecary, and therewithal Came to this Vault to die, and lie with Juliet. Where be these Enemies? Capulet, Montague, See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That Heaven finds means to kill your joys with Love; And I, for winking at your discords too, Have lost a brace of Kinsmen: All are punished. A glooming peace this morning with it brings, The Sun for sorrow will not show his head; Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things, Some shall be pardoned, and some punished. For never was a Story of more Woe, Then this of Juliet, and her Romeo. What fear is this which startles in your ears? Come Montague, for thou art early up To see thy Son and Heir, now early down.