1 Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks, They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
2 I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding.
3 A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, All in gore-blood.
4 Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, With thy black mantle, till strange love, grow bold, Think true love acted simple modesty.
5 Had she affections and warm youthful blood, She'd be as swift in motion as a ball; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me.
6 Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
7 I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl, For now these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.