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That idles in the wanton summer air,
Enter Rom Eo and JULIET.
Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor. Fri, Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it; then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagin'd happiness, that both Receive in either, by this dear encounter. Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars, that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up one half of my wealth. Fri. Come, come with me; For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, Till holy church incorporate two in one. [Ereunt.
ACT THE THIRD.
Enter MERCUTio and BEN vol.Io.
Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire:
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; 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 head than thou hast: thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason, but because thou hast hazel eyes; 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 taylor, 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.
Enter TIBALT and Two SERVANTs.
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. Consort? what, dost thou make us minstrels if thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords: here's my fiddle stick, here's that shall make you dance, zounds ! consort! [Iaying his Hand on his Sword. Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men; Either withdraw into some private place, Or reason coolly of your grievances, Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them aze, I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
Enter Rom Eo. Tib. Well, peace be with you, sir, here comes my Inan. Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery. Tib. Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford No better term than this; thou art a villain. Rom. Tibalt, the reason, that I have to love thee, Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting: villain I am none ; Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not. 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. [Erit TIBALt. Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!— Ha la stoccata carries it away—Tibalt—you ratcatcher. Enter TIRALt.
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 sword out of his pilcher by the ears; make haste, lest mine be about your cars 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, Tibalt, good Mercutio [Erit TIBALt. Mer. I am hurt A 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 peppered, 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 arithmetic. 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 ; plague o' both your. houses 1 [Ereunt MERCUTIo and BEN volio Rom. This gentleman, the Prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation's stain'd With Tibalt's slander: O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate, And in my temper softened valour's steel.
Enter BEN vol.Io.
Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio’s dead; That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. Here comes the furious Tibalt back again,
Rom. Alive in triumph and Mercutio slain
Now, Tibalt, take the villain back again,
Enter PRINCE, Mont AGUE, 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 : There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
Cap. Unhappy sight ! Alas, the blood is spill'd Of my dearkinsman Now, as thou art a Prince, For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.
Prince. Benvolio, who began this fray :
Ben. Tibalt, here slain ; 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 looks, 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