We’ll block this little game, that’s very plain;
Conscience, avaunt! Mercuth’s himself again.
Turns and meets Capulet, who has entered from door, C., with revolver.
Cap. So, so, my early bird you’ve caught a worm;
Keep still, you stupid, don’t begin to squirm;
Explain this early visit if you can.
Mer. “Pity the sorrows of a poor old man.”
Cap. Oh! that won’t do, shut up, you silly elf:
I do the old man’s business here myself.
Your business here? My name is Cap—