1 I have forgot why I did call thee back.
2 I'll call them back again to comfort me.
3 Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
4 My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.
5 Nurse, come back again, I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
6 If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your back than to your face.
7 Romeo is banished; and all the world to nothing That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you.
8 But he which bore my letter, Friar John, Was stay'd by accident; and yesternight Return'd my letter back.
9 Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring, Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you mistaking offer up to joy.
10 Come, night, come Romeo; come, thou day in night; For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.
11 A pack of blessings light upon thy back; Happiness courts thee in her best array; But like a misshaped and sullen wench, Thou putt'st up thy Fortune and thy love.
12 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.
13 Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glides than the sun's beams, Driving back shadows over lowering hills: Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
14 Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone, And yet no farther than a wanton's bird, That lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.
15 O speak again bright angel, for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.
16 But look thou stay not till the watch be set, For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; Where thou shalt live till we can find a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back With twenty hundred thousand times more joy Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.
17 All this uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd 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.
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