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Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir! here comes
my man. Mer. But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your Marry, go before 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 am I none; Therefore farewell ; 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,—which name I tender As dearly as mine own,—be satisfied.
Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission ! A la stoccata” carries it away.
(Draws. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? Tyb. 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, 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.
? A la stoccata-) Stoccata is the Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier.
3 Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears?] We should read pilche, which signifies a cloke or coat of skins, meaning the scabbard.
Tyb. I am for
Rom. Draw, Benvolio; Beat down their weapons :-Gentlemen, for shame Forbear this outrage ;--Tybalt--MercutioThe prince expressly hath forbid this bandying In Verona streets :-hold, Tybalt;—good Mercutio.
[Exeunt Tybalt and his Partizans. Mer. I am hurt; A plague o' 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.
[Erit Page. 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
I am peppered, I warrant, for this world :A plague o’both your houses !—'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 some house, Benvolio,
[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO.
Hath been my kinsman:- sweet Juliet,
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 doth
depend ;* This but begins the woe, others must end.
Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
Rom. Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, 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; Either 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 ; T'ylalt 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!
4 This day's black fate on more days doth depend ;] This day's unhappy destiny hangs over the days yet to come. There will yet be more mischief.
-- respective lenity,] Cool, considerate gentleness. o be my conduct now !] Conduct for conductor.
Rom. O! I am fortune's fool !
Why dost thou stay?
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. i Cit.
Up, sir, 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 The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl : There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin !-0 my brother's
child! Unhappy sight! ah me, the blood is spill’d Of my dear kinsman — Prince, as thou art true? For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.O cousin, cousin !
Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did
slay ; Romeo that spoke him fair, bade bim bethink How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal Your high displeasure --All this—uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly
bow'd, Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
as thou art true,] As thou art just and upright.
Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague, Affection makes him false,' he speaks not true : Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life: I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give; Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio ; Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? Mon. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's
friend; His fault concludes but, what the law should end, The life of Tybalt.
' Affection makes him false,] The charge of falsehood on Benvolio, though produced at hazard, is very just. The author, who seems to intend the character of Benvolio as good, meant perhaps to show, how the best minds, in a state of faction and discord, are detorted to criminal partiality. JOHNSON.