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PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource
PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource
PlayShakespeare.com: The Ultimate Free Shakespeare Resource

Monologues for Men

BEN.

Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo’s hand did slay!

Romeo that spoke him fair, bid him bethink

How nice the quarrel was, and urg’d withal

Your high displeasure; all this, uttered

With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowed,

Could not take truce with the unruly spleen

Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts

With piercing steel at bold Mercutio’s breast,

Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point,

And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats

Cold death aside, and with the other sends

It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity

Retorts it. Romeo he cries aloud,

“Hold, friends! friends, part!” and swifter than his tongue,

His agile arm beats down their fatal points,

And ’twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm

An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life

Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled;

But by and by comes back to Romeo,

Who had but newly entertain’d revenge,

And to’t they go like lightning, for, ere I

Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain;

And as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.

This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

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