and others.]
Tybalt. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.—Gentlemen, good-den: a word with one of you.
Mercutio. And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow.
Tybalt. You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion.
Mercutio.
Could you not take some occasion without giving?
Tybalt.
Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo,—
Mercutio. 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!
Benvolio.
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.
Mercutio.
Men’s eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
I will not budge for no man’s pleasure, I.
Tybalt.
Well, peace be with you, sir.—Here comes my man.
[Enter Romeo.]
Mercutio.
But I’ll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery:
Marry, go before to field, he’ll be your follower;
Your worship in that sense may call him man.
Tybalt.
Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford
No better term than this,—Thou art a villain.
Romeo.
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.
Tybalt.
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.
Romeo.
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 mine own,—be satisfied.
Mercutio.
O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
Alla stoccata carries it away. [Draws.]
Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?
Tybalt.
What wouldst thou have with me?
Mercutio. 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 pitcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.
Tybalt.
I am for you. [Drawing.]
Romeo.
Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
Mercutio.
Come, sir, your passado.
[They fight.]
Romeo.
Draw, Benvolio; 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 with his Partizans.]
Mercutio.
I am hurt;—
A plague o’ both your houses!—I am sped.—
Is he gone, and hath nothing?
Benvolio.
What, art thou hurt?
Mercutio.
Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, ‘tis enough.—
Where is my page?—go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
[Exit Page.]
Romeo.
Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
Mercutio. No, ‘tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but ‘tis enough, ‘twill serve: ask for me tomorrow, 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.
Romeo.
I thought all for the best.
Mercutio.
Help me into some house, Benvolio,
Or I shall faint.—A plague o’ both your houses!
They have made worms’ meat of me:
I have it, and soundly too.—Your houses!
[Exit Mercutio and Benvolio.]
Romeo.
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
Hath been my kinsman.—O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
And in my temper soften’d valour’s steel.
[Re-enter Benvolio.]
Benvolio.
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead!
That gallant spirit hath aspir’d the clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Romeo.
This day’s black fate on more days doth depend;
This but begins the woe others must end.
Benvolio.
Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Romeo.
Alive in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven respective lenity,
And fire-ey’d fury be my conduct now!—
[Re-enter Tybalt.]
Now, Tybalt, take the ‘villain’ back again
That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio’s soul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company.
Either thou or I, or both, must go with him.
Tybalt.
Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
Shalt with him hence.
Romeo.
This shall determine that.
[They fight; Tybalt falls.]
Benvolio.
Romeo, away, be gone!
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.—