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The Street,

Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and servants.

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 a 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 mov'd to be moody, and as soon moody to be mov’d.

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, « hair less in his beard than thou haft: thou wilt quarrel with a ( man for cracking nutts, having no other reason, but because

thou hast basel 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 quarrelld with a man for coughing in

Vol. VI.

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• the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath · lain afleep 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 ' for quarrelling!

Ben. If 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 Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.
Ben. By my head here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel I care not.

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.

Tob. You shall find me apt enough to that, Sir, if you will give me occasion.

Mer. Could you not take fome occafion without giving?
Tyb. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo-

Mer. Confort! what, dost thou make us ministrels! 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 unto some private place,
Or reason coldly of your grievances,
Or elfe depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
Mer. Mens eyes were made to look, and let them

1 will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Enter Romeo.
Tyb. Well, peace be with you, Sir, here comes my man.


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Mer. But I'll be bang’d, Sir, if he wear your livery:
Marry go first to field, he'll be your follower,
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.

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 proteft 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 (wbich name I tender
As dearly as my own,) be satisfied.

Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
Alla ftucatho carries it away.
Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

Tyb. What wouldst 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 by the ears ? Make haste, lest 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. Mer. and Tyb. fight.

Rom. Draw, Benvolio ---- beat down their weapons
Gentlemen ----- for shame forbear this outrage
Tybalt ----- Mercutio -

the prince exprefly hath
Forbidden bandying in Verona streets.
Hold Tybalt ----- good Mercutio.

[Exit Tybalt. 002


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Mer. I am hurt -----
A plague of both the 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. Where is my page? go, villain, 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: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave-man. I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world: a plague of 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! They have made worms meat of me, I have it, and soundly too

[Exe. Mer. Ben. SC EN E


your houses.

Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near allie,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stain’d
With Tybaltos slander ; Tybalt, that an hour
Hath been my cousin: O sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper softned valour's steel.

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 does depend,
This but begins the woe, others must end.

Enter Tybalt.
Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

Rom. · Alive? in triumph ? and Mercutio slain ?
Away to heav'n respective lenity,
And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now!
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
That late thou gav'st me; for Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company:
Or 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. SCENE III.

Enter Citizens.

Cit. Which way ran he that killid Mercutio ? Tybalt that murtherer, which way ran he?

Ben. There lyes that Tybalt.

Cit. Up Sir, go with me:
I charge thee in the prince's name obey.

Enter Prince, Mountague, Capulet, their wives, &c.
Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray ?


· He gone in triumph.

b fire and fury.

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