hath lain asleep in the fun. Didft thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Eafter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old ribband? 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-fimple of my life for an hour and a quarter. Mer. The fee-fimple? O fimple! Enter TYBALT, and Others. Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets. Tyb. Follow me close, for I will fpeak to them.Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it with fomething; make it a word and a blow. Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, fir, if you will give me occafion. Mer. Could you not take fome occafion without giving? Tyb. Mercutio, thou confort'ft with Romeo,Mer. Confort! what, doft thou make us minftrels an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but difcords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. 'Zounds, confort! Ben. We talk here in the publick haunt of men: Either withdraw into fome private place, Or reafon coldly of your grievances, Or elfe 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, fir! here comes my man. Mer. But I'll be hang'd, fir, if he wear your livery: Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile fubmiffion! A laftoccata carries it away. [Draws. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? Mer. Good king of cats, nothing, but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you fhall use me hereafter, dry-beat the reft of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? make hafte, left mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you. [Drawing. Beat down their weapons ;-Gentlemen, for fhame Mer. I am hurt ; A plague o' both the houfes!-I am sped:- Ben. What, art thou hurt? Mer. Ay, ay, a feratch, a feratch; marry, 'tis enough.Where is my page?-go, villain, fetch a furgeon. [Exit Page. Rom. Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not fo deep as a well, nor fo wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: afk for me to-morrow, and you fhall find me a grave man. I am pepper'd, I warrant, for this world:-A plague o' both your houfes!-'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 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 fome houfe, Benvolio, Or I shall faint.-A plague o' both your houses! They have made worm's meat of me: I have it, and foundly too:- -Your houses! [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO. With Tybalt's flander, Tybalt, that an hour Re-enter BENVOLIO. Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead; That gallant fpirit hath afpir'd the clouds, Rom. This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end. Re-enter TYBALT. Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. Rom. Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio flain! Away to heaven, refpective lenity, And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now!— Shalt with him hence. Rom. This fhall 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 doft thou stay? [Exit ROMEO. Enter Citizens, &c. 1 Cit. Which way ran he, that kill'd Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? Ben. There lies that Tybalt. 1 Cit. Up, fir, go with me; I charge thee in the prince's name, obey. Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their Wives, and Others. Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all La. Cap. Tybalt, my coufin!-O my brother's child! Unhappy fight! ah me, the blood is spill'd Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? Ben. Tybalt, here flain, whom Romeo's hand did flay; Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink Could not take truce with the unruly fpleen Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, |