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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, if you will give me occasion.

Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving?

Tyb. Mercutio, thou confort'st with Romeo

Mer. Confort! what dost thou make us minstrels! if thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here's my fiddlestick; here's that, shall make you dance. Come! consort !

[Laying his hand on his sword. Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men: Either withdraw into some private place, Or 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. I

Enter Romeo.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, Sir! here comes

my man. Mer. But I'll be hang’d, Sir, if he wear your li

very. Marry, go first to field, he'll be

your follower: Your Worship in that sense may call him man.

Tyb. Romeo, the love, 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 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, whose name I tender
As dearly as my own, be satisfied.

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

Tyb. What wouldīt 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, left mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you.

[Drawing Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, Sir, your passado.

(Mercurio and Tybalt fight. Rom. Draw, Benvolio,-beat down their weaponsGentlemen--for shame, forbear this outrageTybalt - Mercutio--the Prince exprefly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streets. Hold, Tybalt,

-good Mercutie. [Exit Tybalt.
Mer. I am hurt-
A plague on 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

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

9. Will you pluck your sword out fignifies a cloke or coat of skins, of his Pilcher toy the ears?] meaning the scabbard. We should read Pilche, which



me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man: I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world. A plague on 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 on both your

houses! They have made worm's meat of me. I have it, and soundly too. Plague o'your houses !

[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio.

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Rom. This Gentleman, the Prince's near allie,
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
With Tybalt's Nander; 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

This but begins the woe, others must end.

· This da's black fate on more days yet to come. There will

days does aepend;] This day's yet be more mischief. unhappy deitiny bangs over the


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

Rom. Alive? in Triumph? and Mercutio Nain ?
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 ), or both, must go with him.
Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didft confort him

Shalt with him hence.
Rom. This shall determine that.

(They fight, Tybalt falls.
Ben. Romeo, away. Begone :
The citizens are up, and Tybalt Nain-
Stand not amaz’d." The Prince will doom thee death,
If thou art taken. Hence. Begone. Away.

Rom. ? Oh! I am fortune's fool.
Ben. Why dost thou stay? [Exit Romeo

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Cit. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio ?
Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he ?

Ben. There lies that Tybalt.

2 Ob! I am fortune's fool.] I play. Thou art death's fool: in am always running in the way Measure for Measure. See Dr. of evil fortune, like the fool in a Warburton's Nore. VOL. VIII, F


Cit. Up, Sir. Go with me.
I charge thee in the Prince's name, obey.

Enter Prince, Montague, Capulet, ibeir Wives, &c.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray?

Ben. O noble Prince, I can discover all
Th' unlucky manage of this fatal brawl.
There lies the man, flain by young Romeo,
That New thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's

Prince, 0-cousin-husband--the blood is spill'd
Of my

dear kinsman. Prince, 3 as thou art true,
For blood of qurs, shed blood of Montague.
O! cousin, cousin.

Prin. Benvolio, who began this fray ?
Ben. Tybalt, here fain, whom Romeo's hand did

Romea, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink
* How nice the quarrel was, and arg'd withal
Your high displeasure; all this uttered
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowid
Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
Of Tybalt, 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 fends
It back to Tybalt, whose dexter
Retorts it. Romeo he cries aloud,


as 1 Dzu are true,] As thou petty. So in the last A&. art just and upright.

Í he letter was not nice, but 4 How nice the quarrel - ] How full of charge fight, how un mortant, how of diar import. 6



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