But my true love is grown to such excess, work; and we will make short For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. Verona. A public place. Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants. Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl; For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table, and says, "God send me no need of thee!" and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need. Ben. Am I like such a fellow? Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. Ben. And what to? Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes; what eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened 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 riband? 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! Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets. Enter TYBALT and others. 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 shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an 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 public haunt of men: Either withdraw unto some private place, And 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, İ. Enter ROMEO. here comes my man Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery: Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford -- Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting: villain am I none: Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not. But love thee better than thou canst devise, - which name I tender As dearly as my own, be satisfied. Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! Alla stoccata carries it away. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me? [Draws. 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, mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, sir, your passado. lest [Drawing. [They fight. Rom. Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath Hold, Tybalt! - good Mercutio, [Exeunt Tybalt and his Friends. - 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 churchdoor; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, 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 arithmetic! Why, the devil, came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. Rom. I thought all for the best. Or I shall faint. your Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, [Exit, led by Benvolio and Servants. Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain'd 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. Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. Away to heaven respective lenity, And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now! Re-enter TYBALT. Now, Tybalt, take the "villain" back again Staying for thine to keep him company: Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence. This shall determine that. [They fight; Tybalt falls. Rom. Ben. Romeo, away, be gone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain: Stand not amaz'd: the prince will doom thee death, Rom. O, I am fortune's fool! Ben. Why dost thou stay? [Exit Romeo. Enter Citizens and Officers. First Off. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? Ben. There lies that Tybalt. First Off. Up, sir, go with me; I charge thee in the prince's name, obey. Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, Capulet, Lady Montague, Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? Th' unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child! - Of my dear kinsman! - O, the blood is spilt Prince, as thou art true, For blood of ours shed blood of Montague. · O cousin, cousin! Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts |