Your worship, in that sense, may call him—man. Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee, can afford No better term than this-Thou art a villain. 61 Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting:-Villain I am none; Therefore, farewel; I see, thou know'st me not. Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and draw. Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee; But love thee better than thou canst devise, 'Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender As dearly as my own,-be satisfied. Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! A la stoccata carries it away. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me? 70 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 by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you. 82 [Drawing. [They fight. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, sir, your passado. Rom. Draw, Benvolio ; Beat down their weapons :-Gentlemen, for shame Forbear this outrage ;-Tybalt-Mercutio The The prince expressly hath forbid this bandying In Verona streets :-hold, Tybalt ;-good Mercutio. [Exit TYBALT. Mer. I am hurt ; A plague o' both the houses!—I am sped :— Ben. What, art thou hurt? 91 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!-What! 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! I have it, and soundly too :-Your houses! 106 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. 120 Rom. This day's black fate on more days doth de pend; This but begins the woe, others must end. Re-enter TYBALT. 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 !— Or thou, or I, or both, shall follow him. 130 Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him The citizens are-up, and Tybalt slain : Stand Stand not amaz'd :—the prince will doon thee death, If thou art taken :-hence !-be gone!-away! Rom. O! I am fortune's fool! Ben. Why dost thou stay? Enter Citizens, &c. 140 Exit ROMEO. Cit. Which way ran he, that kill'd Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? Ben. There lies that Tybalt. Cit. Up, sir, go with me; I charge thee in the prince's name, obey. Enter Prince, MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their Wives, &c. Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray ? Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl : There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin! child! 150 O my brother's O prince!-O husband!-O, the blood is spill'd Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; Romeo that spoke him fair, bid him bethink 160 Your Your high displeasure: all this-uttered. With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, Could not take truce with the unruly spleen. It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, 170 Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague, Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; 180 Who |