O Romeo , Romeo , braue Mercutio 's is dead , That Gallant spirit hath aspir 'd the Cloudes , Which too vntimely here did scorne the earth Here comes the Furious Tybalt backe againe Romeo , away be gone : The Citizens are vp , and Tybalt slaine , Stand not amaz 'd , the Prince will Doome thee death If thou art taken : hence , be gone , away Why dost thou stay ? There lies that Tybalt O Noble Prince , I can discouer all The vnluckie Mannage of this fatall brall : There lies the man slaine by young Romeo , That slew thy kinsman braue Mercutio Tybalt here slaine , whom Romeo 's hand did slay , Romeo that spoke him faire , bid him bethinke How nice the Quarrell was , and vrg 'd withall Your high displeasure : all this vttered , With gentle breath , calme looke , knees humbly bow 'd Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene Of Tybalts deafe to peace , but that he Tilts With Peircing steele at bold Mercutio 's breast , Who all as hot , turnes deadly point to point , And with a Martiall scorne , with one hand beates Cold death aside , and with the other sends It back to Tybalt , whose dexterity