« AnteriorContinua »
the sun. Didit thou not fall out with a Tailor for wear. ing his new doublet before Easter ? with another, for tying his new shoes with old ribband ? and yet thou wilt tutor me for quarrelling!
Ben: If I were fo apt to quarrel as thou art, any man hould buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.
Enter Tibalt, Petruchio, and others. Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets. Mer. By my heel, I care not.
Tib. Be near at hand, 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.
Tib. You shall find me apt enough to that, Sir, if you
will give me occasion. Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving? Tib. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo.
Mer Confort ? what, doft thou make us minítrels! if thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddlestick, here's that shall make you dance, zounds ! confort !
[Laying his hand on his Sword. Ben. We talk here in the publick haunt of men : Either withdraw into fome private plące, Or reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. Mir. Mens eyes were made to look, and let them
gaze, I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
Enter Romeo. Tib. Well, peace be with you, Sir, here comes my Mer. But I'll be hang'd, Sir, if he wear your livery.
Tib. Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford
Rom. Tibalt, the reason that I have to love thee,
Tib. 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; And so, good Capulet, (whose name I tender As dearly as my own) be satisfied.
Mer. O calm, dishonourable vile submission ! Ha! la stoccata carries it away -Tibalt
-you ratcatcher. Tib. 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; Will you pluck your
fword out of his pilcher by the ears ? Make hafte, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tib. I am for you, Sir.
[Drawing. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, Sir, your passado.
[Mercutio and Tibalt fight. Rom. Draw, Benvolio -- beat down their
weapons Gentlemen --for shame forbear this outrage Hold Tibait, good Mercutio
[Exit Tibalt. Mer. I am hurtA plague of both your houses! I am sped: Is he gone, and hath nothing?
Ben. What, art thou hurt ?
Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch ; marry, 'tis enough. Go, fetch a surgeon.
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 : I am pepper’d, I warrant, for this world –
--a plague of boch your
houses !-What ?---a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death a braggart, a rogue, a vil. lain, 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! The have made worms meat of me, lha e it, and soundly too; plague o' both your houses !
[Exeunt Mer. and Ben.
S CE N E II.
THIS gentleman, the prince's near ally,
In my behalf; my reputation's Hain'd
Rom. Alive in triumph ? and Mercutio lain?
above our heads, And thou or I, must keep him company:
Tib. Thou wretched boy, that didft consort him here, Shalt with him hence. Rom. This shall determine that.
[They fight, Tibalt falls. Ben. Romeo, away, begone : The citizens are up, and Tibalt ilainStand not amaz’d ; the prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken : hence, begone, away:
Rom, O! I am fortune's fool. [Exit Romeo.
S C Ε Ν Ε III. Enter Prince, Mountague, Capulet, Citizens, &c. Prince. WHERE are the vile beginners of this
fray? Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all
The unlucky manage of this fatal quarrel :
Cap. Unhappy fight! alas, the blood is spill'd Of my dear kinsman Now as thou art a Prince, For blood of ours, shed blood of Mountague.
Prin. Benvolio, who began this fray!
Ben. Tibalt here Nain ; Romeo bespake him fair, bid him bethink How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal Your high displeasure: all this uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, Could not make truce with the unruly spleen Of Tibalt, deaf to peace ; but that he tilts With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast ; Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point, And with a martial scorn, with one hand beats Cold death aside, and with the other fènds It back to Tibalt, whose dexterity Retorts it : Romeo, he cries aloud, Hold friends, friends part ! and swifter than his tongue, His agil arm beats down their fatal points, And 'twixt them rushes ; underneath whose arm An envious thruft from Tibalt hit the life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tibalt fled ; But by and by comes back to Romeo, Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, And to't they go like lightning: for ere I Could draw to part them, was stout Tibalt flair, And as he fell, did Romeo turn to fly : This is the Truth, or let Benvolio suffer.
Cap. He is a kinsman to the Mountague.
Prin. Romeo flew him, he flew Mercutio ;
Mount. Romeo but took the forfeit life of Tibalt.
Prin. And we for that offence do banish him.
you shall all repent my loss in him. I will be deaf to pleading and excuse, Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase our repeal : Therefore use none; let Romeo be gone, Else when he is found, that hour is his last. Bear hence this body, and attend our will : Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. [Exeunt.
Enter Juliet alone.
To Phæbus' mansion ; such a waggoner,
Nurse. Ah welladay he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!