Enter at several doors Benvolio, Frederick, and Martino,
their heads and faces bloody and besmeared with
mud and dirt, all having horns on
What ho, Benvolio.
1495Here, what Frederick, ho.
O help me, gentle friend; where is Martino? Mart.
Dear Frederick, here,
Half smothered in a lake of mud and dirt,
Through which the Furies dragged me by the heels.
Benvolio's horns again.
O misery! How now, Benvolio?
Defend me, heaven. Shall I be haunted still?
Nay, fear not, man; we have no power to kill.
1505My friends transformed thus. O hellish spite! Your
heads are all set with horns.
You hit it right;
It is your own you mean. Feel on your head.
'Zounds, horns again!
1510Nay, chafe not man; we all are sped.
What devil attends this damned magician,
That, spite of spite, our wrongs are doubled?
What may we do, that we may hide our shames?
If we should follow him to work revenge,
1515He'd join long asses' ears to these huge horns,
And make us laughing stocks to all the world.
What shall we then do, dear Benvolio?
I have a castle joining near these woods,
And thither we'll repair and live obscure,
1520Till time shall alter this our brutish shapes.
Since black disgrace hath thus eclipsed our fame,
We'll rather die with grief, than live with shame.