Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it with fomething, make it a word and a blow. Tyb, You fhall find me apt enough to that, Sir, 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 minstrels! if thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but difcords. Here's my fiddlestick; here's that, shall make you dance. Come! confort! [Laying his hand on his fword. Ben. We talk here in the public 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, 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: Tyb. Romeo, the love, I bear thee, can afford Tyb. Boy, this fhall not excufe the Injuries Rom. Rom. I do proteft, I never injur'd thee, But love thee better than thou canft devife; 'Till thou shalt know the reason of my love. And fo, good Capulet, whofe name I tender As dearly as my own, be fatisfied. Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile fubmiffion! Ah! la Stoccata 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. 9 Will you pluck your fword 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. Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, Sir, your paffado. [Mercutio and Tybalt fight. Rom. Draw, Benvolio,-beat down their weapons Gentlemen-for fhame, forbear this outrage Tybalt-Mercutio-the Prince exprefly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona ftreets. Mer. I am hurt [Exit Tybalt. A plague on both the houses! I am sped. Is he gone, and hath nothing? Ben. What, art thou hurt? Mer. Ay, ay, a fcratch, a fcratch; marry, 'tis enough. Where is my page? go, villain, fetch a furgeon. 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 ferve. Afk for 9 Will you pluck your fword out of his PILCHER by the ears] We should read PILCHE, which 4 fignifies a cloke or coat of skins, meaning the fcabbard. WARBURTON. me me to-morrow, and you fhall 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 fome house, Benvolio, I have it, and foundly too. Plague o' your houses! [Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. SCENE II. Rom. This Gentleman, the Prince's near allie, Enter Benvolio. Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead: That gallant fpirit hath afpir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did fcorn the earth. 1 Rom. This day's black fate on more days does depend; This but begins the woe, others must end. This da's black fate on more days does aepend;] This day's unhappy deltiny hangs over the days yet to come. There will yet be more mischief. Enter Enter Tybalt. Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. Rom. Alive? in Triumph? and Mercutio flain? Away to heav'n, respective lenity, And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now! Or thou or 1, or both, must go with him. Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didft confort him here, Shalt with him hence. Rom. This fhall determine that. [They fight, Tybalt falls. Ben. Romeo, away. Begone: The citizens are up, and Tybalt flain Stand not amaz'd. The Prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken. Hence. Begone. 2 Rom. Oh! I am fortune's fool. Ben. Why doft thou stay? SCENE III. Enter Citizens. Away. [Exit Romeo: Cit. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio ? 2 Ob! I am fortune's fool.] I am always running in the way of evil fortune, like the fool in a Warburton's Note. play. Thou art death's fool: in Meafure for Meafure. See Dr. VOL. VIII. F Cit. Cit. Up, Sir. Go with me. I charge thee in the Prince's name, obey. Enter Prince, Montague, Capulet, their 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 flew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. La. Cap. Tybalt, my coufin! O my brother's child!. Prince, Of my O-coufin-husband-O-the blood is fpill❜d dear kinfman. Prince, 3 as thou art true, For blood of ours, fhed blood of Montague. O! coufin, coufin. Prin. Benvolio, who began this fray? Ben. Tybalt, here flain, whom Romeo's hand did Romeo, that spoke him fair, bid him bethink With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, 3 ་་ thou art true,] As thou art just and upright. 4 How nice the quarrel-] How fight, how unimportant, how 6 petty. So in the laft A&. Hold, |