Benvolio. Part, fools!
Put up your swords; you know not what you do. [Beats down their swords.
Enter Tybalt
Tybalt. What, [art thou drawn] among these heartless hinds?
Turn thee, [Benvolio,] look upon thy death.
Benvolio. I do but keep the peace; put up thy sword,
Or manage it to part these men with me.
Tybalt. What, drawn and talk of peace! I hate the word,
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee;
[Have at thee,] coward! [They fight.