For all summer musicals: 5th grade and up please prepare any song of your choosing from the show you are auditioning for. If you are auditioning for more than one summer musical, only choose one show to sing from.
Please only use the tracks provided. Click on the link to get redirected to Youtube for the full list of tracks. You may also sing acapella. An accompanist will not be provided.
For Shakespeare: Choose one of the monologues below and be familiar with the scenes provided.
Sponge Bob the Musical
With Vocals
Without Vocals – Follow link and choose songs marked (Instrumental)
With Lyrics (we are doing the teen edition; for time limitations at auditions please prep from this)
Without Vocals – Please go to this YouTube channel and search the name of the song you are looking for, from the Rock of Ages soundtrack.
https://www.youtube.com/@karafun
9 to 5
With Vocals
Without Vocals
Romeo and Juliet Monologues
Monologue spoken by Romeo in Act 1, Scene 1:
Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love. Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh?… Why, such is love’s transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes; Being vex’d a sea nourish’d with lovers’ tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
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Monologue spoken by Lady Capulet in Act 1, Scene 3:
What say you? can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast; Read o’er the volume of young Paris’ face, And find delight writ there with beauty’s pen; Examine every married lineament, And see how one another lends content And what obscured in this fair volume lies Find written in the margent of his eyes. This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To beautify him, only lacks a cover: The fish lives in the sea, and ’tis much pride For fair without the fair within to hide: That book in many’s eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; So shall you share all that he doth possess, By having him, making yourself no less
Monologue spoken by Juliet in Act 2, Scene 2
‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What’s in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee Take all myself.
Monologue spoken by Mercutio in Act 2, Scene 4:
More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause: ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the hai! The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! ‘By Jesu, a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good whore!’ Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these perdona-mi’s, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their bones, their bones! Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gypsy; Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! there’s a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
Monologue spoken by Juliet in Act 3, Scene 2:
O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-feather’d raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of divinest show! Just opposite to what thou justly seem’st, A damned saint, an honourable villain! O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In moral paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever book containing such vile matter So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace!
Monologue spoken by Friar Laurence in Act 4, Scene 1:
Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow: To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: Take thou this vial, being then in bed, And this distilled liquor drink thou off; When presently through all thy veins shall run A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse Shall keep his native progress, but surcease: No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest; The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade To paly ashes, thy eyes’ windows fall, Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; Each part, deprived of supple government, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: And in this borrow’d likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: Then, as the manner of our country is, In thy best robes uncover’d on the bier Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. In the mean time, against thou shalt awake, Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, And hither shall he come: and he and I Will watch thy waking, and that very night Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. And this shall free thee from this present shame; If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear, Abate thy valour in the acting it.
Monologue spoken by The Nurse in Act 1, Scene 3:
Even or odd, of all days in the year,
Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she–God rest all Christian souls!– Were of an age: well, Susan is with God; She was too good for me: but, as I said, On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; That shall she, marry; I remember it well. ‘Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; And she was wean’d,–I never shall forget it,– Of all the days of the year, upon that day: For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall; My lord and you were then at Mantua:– Nay, I do bear a brain:–but, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! Shake quoth the dove-house: ’twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge: And since that time it is eleven years; For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, She could have run and waddled all about; For even the day before, she broke her brow: And then my husband–God be with his soul! A’ was a merry man–took up the child: ‘Yea,’ quoth he, ‘dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; Wilt thou not, Jule?’ and, by my holidame, The pretty wretch left crying and said ‘Ay.’ To see, now, how a jest shall come about! I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, I never should forget it: ‘Wilt thou not, Jule?’ quoth he; And, pretty fool, it stinted and said ‘Ay.’
Romeo and Juliet Scenes:
SCENE III. A room in Capulet’s house.
Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse
LADY CAPULET
Nurse, where’s my daughter? call her forth to me.
Nurse
Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old, I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird! God forbid! Where’s this girl? What, Juliet!
Enter JULIET
JULIET
How now! who calls?
Nurse
Your mother.
JULIET
Madam, I am here. What is your will?
LADY CAPULET
This is the matter:–Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in secret:–nurse, come back again; I have remember’d me, thou’s hear our counsel. Thou know’st my daughter’s of a pretty age.
Nurse
Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
LADY CAPULET
She’s not fourteen.
Nurse
I’ll lay fourteen of my teeth,– And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four– She is not fourteen. How long is it now To Lammas-tide?
LADY CAPULET
A fortnight and odd days.
Nurse
Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she–God rest all Christian souls!– Were of an age: well, Susan is with God; She was too good for me: but, as I said, On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; That shall she, marry; I remember it well. ‘Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; And she was wean’d,–I never shall forget it,– Of all the days of the year, upon that day: For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall; My lord and you were then at Mantua:– Nay, I do bear a brain:–but, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! Shake quoth the dove-house: ’twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge: And since that time it is eleven years; For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, She could have run and waddled all about; For even the day before, she broke her brow: And then my husband–God be with his soul! A’ was a merry man–took up the child: ‘Yea,’ quoth he, ‘dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; Wilt thou not, Jule?’ and, by my holidame, The pretty wretch left crying and said ‘Ay.’ To see, now, how a jest shall come about! I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, I never should forget it: ‘Wilt thou not, Jule?’ quoth he; And, pretty fool, it stinted and said ‘Ay.’
LADY CAPULET
Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.
Nurse
Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh, To think it should leave crying and say ‘Ay.’ And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow A bump as big as a young cockerel’s stone; A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly: ‘Yea,’ quoth my husband,’fall’st upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; Wilt thou not, Jule?’ it stinted and said ‘Ay.’
JULIET
And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
Nurse
Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! Thou wast the prettiest babe that e’er I nursed: An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish.
LADY CAPULET
Marry, that ‘marry’ is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married?
JULIET
It is an honour that I dream not of.
Nurse
An honour! were not I thine only nurse, I would say thou hadst suck’d wisdom from thy teat.
LADY CAPULET
Well, think of marriage now; younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers: by my count, I was your mother much upon these years That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief: The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
Nurse
A man, young lady! lady, such a man As all the world–why, he’s a man of wax.
LADY CAPULET
Verona’s summer hath not such a flower.
Nurse
Nay, he’s a flower; in faith, a very flower.
LADY CAPULET
What say you? can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast; Read o’er the volume of young Paris’ face, And find delight writ there with beauty’s pen; Examine every married lineament, And see how one another lends content And what obscured in this fair volume lies Find written in the margent of his eyes. This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To beautify him, only lacks a cover: The fish lives in the sea, and ’tis much pride For fair without the fair within to hide: That book in many’s eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; So shall you share all that he doth possess, By having him, making yourself no less.
Nurse
No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.
LADY CAPULET
Speak briefly, can you like of Paris’ love?
JULIET
I’ll look to like, if looking liking move: But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
Enter a Servant
Servant
Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.
LADY CAPULET
We follow thee.
Exit Servant
Juliet, the county stays.
Nurse
Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
Exeunt
SCENE III. Friar Laurence’s cell.
Enter FRIAR LAURENCE
FRIAR LAURENCE
Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man: Affliction is enamour’d of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.
Enter ROMEO
ROMEO
Father, what news? what is the prince’s doom? What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not?
FRIAR LAURENCE
Too familiar Is my dear son with such sour company: I bring thee tidings of the prince’s doom.
ROMEO
What less than dooms-day is the prince’s doom?
FRIAR LAURENCE
A gentler judgment vanish’d from his lips, Not body’s death, but body’s banishment.
ROMEO
Ha, banishment! be merciful, say ‘death;’ For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death: do not say ‘banishment.’
FRIAR LAURENCE
Hence from Verona art thou banished: Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
ROMEO
There is no world without Verona walls, But purgatory, torture, hell itself. Hence-banished is banish’d from the world, And world’s exile is death: then banished, Is death mis-term’d: calling death banishment, Thou cutt’st my head off with a golden axe, And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.
FRIAR LAURENCE
O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince, Taking thy part, hath rush’d aside the law, And turn’d that black word death to banishment: This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.
ROMEO
‘Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her; But Romeo may not: more validity, More honourable state, more courtship lives In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; But Romeo may not; he is banished: Flies may do this, but I from this must fly: They are free men, but I am banished. And say’st thou yet that exile is not death? Hadst thou no poison mix’d, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne’er so mean, But ‘banished’ to kill me?–‘banished’? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend profess’d, To mangle me with that word ‘banished’?
FRIAR LAURENCE
Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.
ROMEO
O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
FRIAR LAURENCE
I’ll give thee armour to keep off that word: Adversity’s sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
ROMEO
Yet ‘banished’? Hang up philosophy! Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, Displant a town, reverse a prince’s doom, It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more.
FRIAR LAURENCE
O, then I see that madmen have no ears.
ROMEO
How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?
FRIAR LAURENCE
Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
ROMEO
Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel: Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
Knocking within
FRIAR LAURENCE
Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.
ROMEO
Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans, Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.
Knocking
FRIAR LAURENCE
Hark, how they knock! Who’s there? Romeo, arise; Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up;
Knocking
Run to my study. By and by! God’s will, What simpleness is this! I come, I come!
Knocking
Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what’s your will?
Nurse
[Within] Let me come in, and you shall know my errand; I come from Lady Juliet.
SCENE IV. A street.
Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others
ROMEO
What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without a apology?
BENVOLIO
The date is out of such prolixity: We’ll have no Cupid hoodwink’d with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar’s painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance: But let them measure us by what they will; We’ll measure them a measure, and be gone.
ROMEO
Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
MERCUTIO
Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
ROMEO
Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
MERCUTIO
You are a lover; borrow Cupid’s wings, And soar with them above a common bound.
ROMEO
I am too sore enpierced with his shaft To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: Under love’s heavy burden do I sink.
MERCUTIO
And, to sink in it, should you burden love; Too great oppression for a tender thing.
ROMEO
Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
MERCUTIO
If love be rough with you, be rough with love; Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in: A visor for a visor! what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.
BENVOLIO
Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs.
ROMEO
A torch for me: let wantons light of heart Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels, For I am proverb’d with a grandsire phrase; I’ll be a candle-holder, and look on. The game was ne’er so fair, and I am done.
MERCUTIO
Tut, dun’s the mouse, the constable’s own word: If thou art dun, we’ll draw thee from the mire Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick’st Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!
ROMEO
Nay, that’s not so.
MERCUTIO
I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits.
ROMEO
And we mean well in going to this mask; But ’tis no wit to go.
MERCUTIO
Why, may one ask?
ROMEO
I dream’d a dream to-night.
MERCUTIO
And so did I.
ROMEO
Well, what was yours?
MERCUTIO
That dreamers often lie.
ROMEO
In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.
MERCUTIO
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders’ legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces of the smallest spider’s web, The collars of the moonshine’s watery beams, Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, Not so big as a round little worm Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love; O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on court’sies straight, O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees, O’er ladies ‘ lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail Tickling a parson’s nose as a’ lies asleep, Then dreams, he of another benefice: Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night, And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes: This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage: This is she–
ROMEO
Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk’st of nothing.
MERCUTIO
True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
BENVOLIO
This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
ROMEO
I fear, too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night’s revels and expire the term Of a despised life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death. But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.
BENVOLIO
Strike, drum.
Exeunt
SCENE I. A public place.
TYBALT
Follow me close, for I will speak to them. Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.
MERCUTIO
And but one word with one of us? couple it with something; make it a word and a blow.
TYBALT
You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion.
MERCUTIO
Could you not take some occasion without giving?
TYBALT
Mercutio, thou consort’st with Romeo,–
MERCUTIO
Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here’s my fiddlestick; here’s that shall make you dance. ‘Zounds, consort!
BENVOLIO
We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw unto some private place, And reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
MERCUTIO
Men’s eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man’s pleasure, I.
Enter ROMEO
TYBALT
Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.
MERCUTIO
But I’ll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery: Marry, go before to field, he’ll be your follower; Your worship in that sense may call him ‘man.’
TYBALT
Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford No better term than this,–thou art a villain.
ROMEO
Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting: villain am I none; Therefore farewell; I see thou know’st me not.
TYBALT
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.
ROMEO
I do protest, I never injured thee, But love thee better than thou canst devise, Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: And so, good Capulet,–which name I tender As dearly as my own,–be satisfied.
MERCUTIO
O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! Alla stoccata carries it away.
Draws
Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?
TYBALT
What wouldst thou have with me?
MERCUTIO
Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.
TYBALT
I am for you.
Drawing
ROMEO
Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
MERCUTIO
Come, sir, your passado.
They fight
ROMEO
Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streets: Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!
TYBALT under ROMEO’s arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies with his followers
MERCUTIO
I am hurt. A plague o’ both your houses! I am sped. Is he gone, and hath nothing?
BENVOLIO
What, art thou hurt?
MERCUTIO
Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, ’tis enough. Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
Exit Page
ROMEO
Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
MERCUTIO
No, ’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but ’tis enough,’twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o’ both your houses! ‘Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.
ROMEO
I thought all for the best.
MERCUTIO
Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint. A plague o’ both your houses! They have made worms’ meat of me: I have it, And soundly too: your houses!
Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO
ROMEO
This gentleman, the prince’s near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain’d With Tybalt’s slander,–Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper soften’d valour’s steel!
Re-enter BENVOLIO
BENVOLIO
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead! That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
ROMEO
This day’s black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.
BENVOLIO
Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
ROMEO
Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!
Re-enter TYBALT
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio’s soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
TYBALT
Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence.
