quarrell'd with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath waken'd thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling! Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. Mer. The fee-simple? O simple! Enter TY BALT, and Others. Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets. Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow. Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, if you will give me occasion. Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving? Tyb. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo, Mer. Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, consort! Ben. We talk here in the publick haunt of men: Either withdraw into some private place, Or reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. Enter ROMEO. Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir! here comes my man. Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery: Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; [Draws. Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! 44 A la stoccata carries it away.— Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? Tyb. What would'st thou have with me? Mer. Good king of cats, nothing, but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher 45 by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Rom. Draw, Benvolio; [drawing. [They fight. Beat down their weapons:- Gentlemen, for shame Forbear this outrage;-Tybalt-Mercutio The prince expressly hath forbid this bandying In Verona streets :-hold, Tybalt;-good Mercutio. [Exeunt Tybalt and his partizans. Mer. I am hurt; A plague o'both the houses!—I am sped:- Ben. What, art thou hurt? Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough. Where is my page?-go, villain, fetch a surgeon. [Exit Page. Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world:-A plague o'both your houses!-'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetick!Why, the devil, came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. Rom. I thought all for the best. Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint.-A plague o'both your houses! They have made worm's meat of me: I have it, and soundly too:-Your houses! [Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally, With Tybalt's slander, Tybalt, that an hour Re-enter BENVOLIO. Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead; That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. Rom. This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end. Re-enter TY BALT. Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. Rom. Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now !- Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence. Rom. This shall determine that. [They fight; Tybalt falls. Ben. Romeo, away, be gone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain:— Stand not amaz'd:-the prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken:-hence!-be gone !-away! Rom. O! I am fortune's fool! Ben. Why dost thou stay? [Exit Romeo. Enter Citizens, &c. 1 Cit. Which way ran he, that kill'd Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? Ben. There lies that Tybalt. 1 Cit. Up, sir, go with me; I charge thee in the prince's name, obey. Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? |